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ohimsummer · 4 months

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IT'S TOO COLD ft. BULLY! SUGURU

— minors dni, anal, closet sex, bully! suguru x fem! reader, dubcon, fingering (anal), creampie, fem! reader, begging, pet names (puppy, darling), ending is a little rushed :'DD

An icy breeze creeps through the cracks of your clothes, any inch of fabric careless enough not to shield you from cool winds. Your body lay way more unprotected than you were comfortable with, considering you were dressed for a brisk 70 degrees and not 15 degrees colder.

It’s appalling how the forecast could possibly be this inaccurate, but you’ve braved the weather so far, having no time to stop by your room for a jacket. Sure, the wind sent your little sundress fluttering and raised goosebumps on any bare patch of skin, but at least you weren’t late for any classes?

“You’re gonna catch a cold like that.”

At the sound of his voice, your feet fix themselves to the ground. You hadn’t even spotted him, too caught up in rushing to your final lecture and the comforting thought of a nice, warm nap after a day of classes.

You turn to watch Geto approach, clad in a dark sweater beneath a darker hooded coat, one he unzips as he draws nearer. He holds the garment out for you to take, amused at the doubt clouded over your expression.

“Come on, darling, you want my arm to get tired?,” he rushes you.

You cross arms over your chest, partially for warmth, partially in defiance, and unintentionally smushing your breasts up perfectly for Geto to get an eyeful, mumbling. “I don’t need your jacket.”

He raises a brow, eyes lingering on your shivering legs for less than innocent reasons, before flashing you his signature, calming grin. “Sure you don’t. Put it on, anyway.”

The subsequent pout of your bottom lip reminds him of Gojo. “But I d-“

“Now.” And you recognize the menacing look in his eyes, a forewarning to obey or else.

Without a word, you snatch the oversized jacket from him, slotting your arms through the spacious sleeves, and zipping it up to your chin. The length of it brushes your knees, and admittedly, you’re grateful for the extra coverage.

“There.,” as the collar of the jacket engulfs the lower half of your face. “Happy now?”

Geto pads even closer, chilly hands grazing your cheeks and ears to send a shiver up your spine, and pulls the hood over your head. He tugs at the strings to tighten it a little, brushing off complaints about your hair to make sure it fits snug.

“Perfect.,” he hums and pats the top of your head. “Though…”

A curious look plasters itself on your face as Geto tilts his head, gaze traveling from your head to toe, stopping again on the rest of your barren legs, and settling on your eyes. ‘C’mon’ he mutters with a hand around your wrist, essentially dragging you in the opposite direction.

“G-Geto!,” you quiet your protests to avoid judgmental stares. “I was g-, let go of me, I was going to class!”

He doesn’t break his gait, pulling you behind him to who-knows-where, your objections flowing straight over his head with the accompanying frigid gusts. Sounds of feet scuffing the ground as you fight against Geto’s steady strides, though to no avail as he slips you both into the campus’s art building. The halls are vacant, slightly less cold than outside, no noise except the loudening sound of drums and instruments as he guides you down a hall destined for trumpet players and the like.

You two arrive at an ordinary, brown door, a storage closet. Geto manhandles the knob, heaving it open with his shoulder against the wood, and gestures you inside. Glancing left and right and seeing no witnesses, you tiptoe inside, nerves worsening as Geto shuts the door behind you.

You mutter, “It’s dark in here.” And as if on cue, a dim, yellowish light fills the small room. Geto’s hand wraps around a dingy string tailing from a single lightbulb, before he walks forward to corner you against a tiny sink stuffed in the room.

“Wh-what are you–?,” croaks out, interrupted by him spinning you around to bend over the porcelain fixture.

“ ‘M warming you up.,” he replies, hands ducking beneath the jacket and your dress to glide up and down your thighs. “You felt pretty cold earlier, can’t let you walk around like that. I’ll help you out before sending you on your way.”

You crane your neck to look at him. Geto looks so much bigger cramped in this tiny janitor’s closet amidst forgotten cleaning supplies and gloomy concrete walls.

“Geto–“

“Suguru.,” he corrects.

You huff, brows furrowing at him, though his eyes are locked on the sight of your exposed panties from where he’s bundled both the jacket and your dress around your waist. “Suguru, I got a lecture to get to, and I’m running late–“

“Mhm.”

You clench at the sensation of something hard against your ass, rambling, “A–nd it’s important, we’re doing group–, group assignments–“

A loud ripping sound and your panties are gone, then the sound of spitting followed by a warm something dripping down the seam of your ass. “Tell me all about it, darling.”

Something prods at your puckered hole, and your lungs shrivel inside your ribcage. You choke out, “Su-Suguru, I really, really–,” a whine as his slick finger breaches your hole, “need to be in cla–ss!” He sinks knuckle-deep into the tight orifice, wriggling around before pumping a few shallow thrusts. Wetness builds between your legs, that knowing ache forming in your core as Geto stills the writhing of your hips with his other hand.

“Geto-!,” a corrective ‘smack’ that leaves a hot sting on your ass, yelping ‘oh!’ before you continue pleading. “Suguru, cut it out, I really can’t fail this class!”

“Of course you can’t.,” Geto says automatically, clearly not listening, too busy stuffing another finger in to prep your hole. His dick twitches as another glob of spit drops from his lips, soaking between his fingers as they stretch your little opening. He scissors them apart, earning a gasp from you, before retrieving them as Geto’s now decided you’re ready.

“Look at that, you feel warmer already.”, he laughs softly, hands tracing the expanse of your skin, trailing up your lower back to feel the new heat radiating off you.

Of course Geto’s right, his playtime with your hole has blossomed a scorching heat over your body, coated in a sheen of sweat, a blazing throb between your thighs. The mass of his chest weighs on your back, Geto’s hand moving over one of yours to lace your fingers together on the edge of the sink; wet sounds of him thrusting into his hand fill the room, and your asshole clenches when you feel something much larger breaching your inside.

“S-Suguru!,” you whine, clutching the smooth porcelain as his tip forces it’s way into your entrance. “O-oh fuck, wait!”

Geto ignores your pleas, already halfway in. Your neck tingles under the vibration of his groan, hot breath on your neck, and Geto makes himself at home amongst the tightness of your walls, you squeezing around his dick as he buries himself deeper. “Fuck. So tight, loosen up, darling.”

His leaking tip drags along your walls, and you both synchronize an unbroken moan when he finally bottoms out in you, flush against your ass. The fullness of it feels funny, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as Geto draws out, before slamming back inside and sending you careening forward. Choked whines echo amidst the small room, mingling with Geto’s low, animalistic grunts, and the occasional curse entwined with rasps of ‘feels so fucking good ’ and ‘god, you’re gonna snap my dick off’. He nibbles on your neck, sucks a dark bruise on the skin, a hand trailing down to balance your leg on the edge of the sink. You embed teeth into your fist, suddenly fearful of passerby overhearing your activities, though it in turn prompts Geto to force a deeper arch in your back, your ass rippling as he ruts into your behind.

Your needy pussy clenches around nothing, clit aching for some kind of stimulation but both of your hands are busy. “Suguru–! O-oh god, please!”

Geto tightens his grip, further entangling your fingers, leaning to press you down some more. “Please what? You want me to touch you?”

You nod with a whine, earning a hard thrust before mewling out, “Yes, yes!”

Geto hums in thought, lips brushing behind your shoulder, and pants ,” Well?” and when he notices the knit of your brows. “Start begging then.”

“But–“

“Ah, ah, I’m waiting.” And he presses a rough kiss to your cheek. The hand on your hip creeps ever closer to your core, tracing over the crease of your thighs but not daring to go any further. A babble of pleas fall off your tongue, tears threatening to slip down your cheeks as your pussy yearns for some kind of stimulation.

“I’m being such a good g-girl for you, Sugu, your good pup–py.”

Aw, aren’t you cute, pulling out the little nickname you’d angrily sworn at them to never use. ‘Why would I ever use that, I don’t even like you.’ Suguru licks up your jawline, smothering your neck in another layer of sloppy kisses. You pull your drool-soaked fist from your mouth, lips quivering. Geto looks through lustful eyes to meet your needy, wide-eyed gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at your subtle pout.

"Pretty please, Suguru, I really want it...", you whine.

You're such a sight for sore eyes, Geto thinks, tongue darting over his lips as he finally dips a finger between your folds. He's immediately met with your cry, watching your head fall as he massages the swollen nub under his middle finger, basking in the desperate mewls of his name that leave you.

"I wanna cum with you, Sugu, please, please, feels so, s-so good..”

Geto's smile widens. "Yeah?” You nod eagerly. “Ask politely, like a good puppy, and I’ll let you."

His fingers plunge deep into your spasming hole, leaking juices down to his wrist, the rough thrusts of his cock leaving words to catch in your throat. Your release is just around the corner, and it's a struggle to hold back the way Geto is pounding into you, with his thumb still pressing circles into your clit.

"May I please cum with you, Sugu, please, please, please?", you whimper into the back of your hand.

A short silence follows. Geto's way of toying with you further. The way you squeeze around his fingers and dick make it evident you're close, but he just wants to see. Is his puppy really gonna go ahead and cum without his say so?

"Please–!" It's taking all your strength, and you don't know how much longer you can hold out. "Suguru, fuck, I-I might–“

And his answer feels like a blessing in your ears. "Go ahead, darling. Cum with me."

You let out a broken, choked moan, trembling in Geto's hands as your orgasm sends you over the edge. He thinks you just might actually cut off his dick the way you contract around him, groaning against your neck as he releases thick strings of cum into your entrance. Geto spreads your ass cheeks wide as he pulls out. Globs of his cum dribble out your tight hole, trailing down to mix with the cum leaking from your cunt. If not for Suguru holding you up, surely you would have collapsed on the floor, legs weak and useless in keeping you upright. Geto gives your ass a little smack, before readjusting your dress and his jacket to make you look a little more decent.

"There, all done.," he says. "Want me to walk you to class, now?"

You roll your eyes, shivering and gulping in air. Of course he’s wants to be funny with his cum running down your legs. Between shaky breaths, you rasp, "It's too–, far too late for that."

tagz: @anthoosies today i offer u bully suguru, tomorrow….who knowz

#suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #bully!suguru #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #suguru x reader smut

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hvneybuckin · 2 days

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art donaldson

cheating, subby art, handjobs, gn reader, art drools on reader, slight implication of a praise kink

18+. minors dni

587 words

Art loved tennis. Art adored tennis. Did he live for tennis? No. Well, yes, he did— but he didn’t do it for him.

Art’s main priority was always going to be his family. Always going to be Tashi. That’s why he pushed himself so hard. He felt as though he owed it to her. Tennis was her dream, and he was going to make it real.

However, even Art Donaldson— one of the best tennis players of his time— needed a break.

That break was you.

And after a particularly shitty match, he thought he deserved a rest.

So it’s really no surprise when he ends up in between your legs, back to your chest while your hand reaches around to tug on his leaking cock. “Is this good?” Your voice is nothing higher than a whisper, bitten lips from the makeout session from just moments before brushing against Art’s ear. “Yeah— yes, just…a little faster, please.”

So, you do what he asks; because how could you say no to him? And you’re glad that you obliged, the broken gasp that slips out of him sounding almost angelic to your ears. His head falls back to rest on your shoulder, eyes clamped shut.

Your fingerpad brushes past his angry, red tip, and Art thinks he might actually see heaven.

“You really needed this, yeah?”

Your tone is always so gentle whenever you’re with Art. As if anything above it could break him. He’s not quite sure if he likes it, but right now— the signs are pointing towards yes.

He nods in response, afraid that if he tries to speak, his voice will betray him.

“I know you did. Been so stressed lately, hm?” You pepper soft kisses all over his face, but never his lips, and the whine that escapes his mouth comes straight from a place of desire. “It’s okay, though. ‘M proud of you, my perfect boy.” Art’s hips jerk up at that, and it makes you giggle simply because he really is so sensitive. “Think ‘m gonna cum soon,” he whimpers into the skin of your shoulder. His words are slurred, and you can already tell he’s not all that much there anymore.

You take it upon yourself to stroke him faster, and you can hear how his breathing speeds up, gets heavier.

“Fuck.”

It comes out whiny and pathetic. He can’t be arsed to say anything else, but that one word does all the work for him. “‘S okay, you can cum for me, Art.”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge, spurts of milky white shooting out of his cock and onto your hand. He’s babbling mindlessly, most of it coming out garbled— but what you do pick up is the many “thank you’s” and obscenities he spews.

After you let him ride his orgasm out, he’s actually really quiet. “Art? You still with me?” You whisper, looking down at his blissed-out face. A thin string of saliva connects his lips to your shoulder.

He was drooling.

He blinks his eyes open, and once he’s fully brought back to reality, he gives you one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. “Yeah.” You offer him a slight grin back, hand reaching up to brush some stray curly strands of hair away from his face. “Should we shower? Or would you prefer a bath?”

“…Can we just stay here? Like this?”

And right then and there, you think that maybe Tashi won’t mind if he doesn’t come home that night.

#𐚁 — aiden writes: art donaldson.#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #challengers movie #challengers smut

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eddiesghxst · 7 months

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her.

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun.

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage.

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect.

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow.

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside.

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars.

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner.

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high.

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more.

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you.

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room.

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses.

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation.

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.”

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature.

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers.

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is.

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you.

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away.

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it.

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him.

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

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cheollipop · 8 months

Note

HIII :D

Can you write a little drabble about dom Yunho and fem reader ignoring eachother after an argument and so y/n comes up with a plan to tease Yunho while he’s busy ignoring her and playing video games and then he ends up getting worked up and it then leads to rough sex 🙈 (sorry if this is too much lol)

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

hi anonnie!! this... thisssssss egsjbks omg gamer bf!yunho AND mad!yunho?? yummy YUMMY- ahem, this was very fun to write, and i may have gone a bit overboard with it oopsie. also, been in a playful mood lately, so you get bratty!reader~ happy reading ^^

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, oral (m), make-up sex, lots of cum talk bc... teehee, yunho's kinda mad but turns soft, reader's a little brat ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Eyes trained on the screen before him, spattered splotches of red masking his point of view as his player failed to block the incoming stream of bullets, his fingers stuttering over his keyboard as loud yelling blasted into Yunho’s ears, his friends’ voices contained within the worn-down cushions of his headset. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, partly because of the insults being thrown his way as he struggled to aim his sniper, but mainly at his inability to recall how the argument he’d had with you a couple hours ago had even started. He wracked his brain for an answer, but all he came up with was the menacing smile stretching your lips when you walked into the room hours after he’d stormed off, opting to bully eleven-year-olds online with his friends, camping at their spawn point and watching them grow frustrated with his unfair tactics.

The situation flipped, though, once your smile disappeared underneath his desk, your body hidden under the polished wood, and Yunho nearly cursed at the missed view of your delicate hands undoing the strings of his sweatpants. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be, even more so when you had your fingers wrapped around his cock, tongue drawing circles around his head and collected the occasional spurts of precum as he grew harder in your grasp. He shuffled in his seat, containing a groan before it could leave his lips when you took his length down your throat, your lips meeting the digits wrapped around his girth before pulling off for air. Yunho wasn’t sure how many games he’d lost so far, only that his friends were growing frustrated with his silence, but he didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice would give away the nature of the situation he was in.

Brushing off the blonde locks obscuring his vision, he attempted to return to his position at the enemy’s base, only for you to flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock while sliding him back into your mouth, waiting until the tip prodded at your uvula before swallowing around it. To his luck, the startled grunt drawn out of him aligned with his teams’ nth loss, and his friends returned to their endless berating.

You pulled off him again, resting your head high enough on his thigh to stare up at his flushed face over the edge of his desk—eyes glazed over and unfocused as they gazed back at you, his lips bitten raw and a pretty rose tinting his neck and the sliver of his chest peeking at you over his collar. Your hand remained on him to smear your saliva down his length, squeezing at his base and back up to twirl around his cockhead, all while watching his composure slowly breaking down and his impatience seep into his features. With hesitation, you moved your eyes off him and to the pretty, bright pink painting his angry tip while it leaked translucent liquid that mingled with your spit, leaning forward to lick a stripe over the throbbing vein decorating his shaft.

You heard deft fingers pressing over the keycaps followed by the loud clang of his headset hitting the wooden desk, his thighs retracting as he rolled his chair back, and his hands squeezed around your biceps to hold you up. Forcefully pulling you to your feet with him, the snarky remark died on your tongue as he pushed back onto the bed, a sudden exhale blowing out of your lungs when you landed under him.

“Had your fun?” the deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. Looking up at him, you took in the sweat pilling on his forehead, and you unsuccessfully attempted to wiggle out of the grasp he had around your wrists.

You bent your knee enough to dig into his hanging cock, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards when he jerked back. “Seems like you did too.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch again before a firm hand grabbed at your jaw, his other hand working your bottoms down your legs, two fingers pushing between your walls before you could even think of a retort. But you simply giggled, amused by how worked up you’d managed to get Yunho. You pecked the palm covering your lips, breathing out airy moans as he repeatedly pressed his fingers into your g-spot. He scissored his fingers, watching hot arousal dripping out of your cunt to seep into his duvet, cursing under his breath while using it to lube himself up.

“Can’t believe you,” he mumbled after releasing your jaw, leaning down to press himself flush with your chest, hands on your hips while he sunk into you, a melody of grunts and moans bouncing off the walls as he ground into your pussy, making sure you took every last inch of him. “Fuuuck, so fucking tight for me, aren’t you? Even when you’re being a brat,” he pressed his lips to the smile stretching yours.

Your smile wavered, playfulness fading away as you held his face to gaze into his hooded eyes, “are you still mad?”

Your whisper halted his insistent grinding, sparing you from the delicious glide of his cockhead over your walls to press a kiss to your forehead, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it seemed that way,” the hands holding your hips wrapped around you, one cradling the back of your head and the other on your lower spine, holding you so close you could hear his racing heartbeat.

You knew this didn’t solve the problem, and that you’d have to sit down and talk about it again soon, but Yunho’s hold—so warm and tender—set a veil of tranquillity over your moving bodies and erased any significance tied to your previous argument.

But Yunho was still desperate, brimming lust mingling with his desire to make love to you, his hold gentle and yet his hips were merciless. He slammed his cock into your cunt, breathy ah's blowing over the side of you neck while he drew out orgasm after orgasm from you, his length pulsating within your heat as pleasure seared through your bodies. Your thighs trembled around him, and your hips ached when he flipped you over, grabbing your ass to pull you back onto his cock while his other hand pushed your head down into the mattress, taking what he needed from you and revelling in the sweet moans he got in return.

Overstimulation mingled with pleasure, and you tuned out your surroundings save for the choked grunts Yunho blew against the shell of your ear, the flesh of your ass growing raw with his repetitive thrusts, the back of his thighs slapping roughly against your skin.

“gonna come,” he panted, “gonna fill you up all the way, yeah baby?”

You rambled incoherently into the sheets, the hand holding your head down tangling into your hair until dull pain shot through your scalp. Moaning a succession of “yes” and “please,” Yunho held you in place while he emptied thick ropes of his cum between your fluttering walls, doing just as he said he would: filling you up all the way, until the heat spread into your womb.

Yunho brushed the hair off your face to watch your pupils disappear, rutting his softening cock into you to push you further over the edge, aiding you down from your high with skilled rolls of his hips and kisses peppered over your skin, groaning at the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. When overstimulation jerked your body away from his grasp, you reached back with heavy limbs to push at his hips, sighing once his thick length slid out of you, and you missed the string of cum connecting his cockhead to your leaking hole. But Yunho eyed it until it broke, sliding his hands up your spine and flattening his body over yours, his weight held up by the elbows digging into the mattress by your head.

Pressing kisses to every patch of skin he could reach, yunho brushed away your tears with the plush of his lips, kissing over your shut eyelids while breathing in your uneven exhales. His pretty angel, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, especially after you’d milked him dry, always so beautiful when you were stuffed full of his cum. Covered in sweat, shirt sticking to your trembling figure, your cunt oozing the translucent liquid while it clenched uselessly around the chill air.

You craned your neck to look at the man hovering over you, clothed chest brushing over your back with every breath he drew in. He looked just as ruined—a pretty flush painting his cheeks, eyes soft and brimming with adoration as they mooned over your expression. You wondered what face you were making, and why it seemed make him so starstruck.

“We good?” You breathed out into the air between you, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Yunho focused on the spit drying over your lips, the line of drool going down to your chin reflecting the light from his monitor. His cock twitched in interest where it lay snug between his lower belly and your ass, and he rolled his hips experimentally, your sweet arousal around the hardening length gliding smoothly over your skin.

He hummed, meeting your hopefulness with an innocent smile, though the hint of slyness hidden within the gesture did not go unnoticed. Rolling his hips once more, he enveloped your body completely, resting some of his body weight over you while he whispered in your ear, a dribble of his cum seeping out of you as you squeezed around nothing.

“I think I might need a little more convincing.”

#panda's 2k sleepover o(≧▽≦)o #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho scenarios #jeong yunho imagines #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #yunho x reader #yunho smut

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dejwrld · 7 months

Text

— number 7 on paradis titans hockey team can get a little mean after he loses a game.

( cw ) ⸻ modern au, sports au, profanity, mean dom!jean in 4k hd ultra, female anatomy, her/she pronouns, afab, established relationship (reader and jean are married with a child), reader implied to black, creampie, impact play, oral ( f.receiving), slight spit kink, spanking, breeding kink, pet name usage (good girl, babygirl) he's just a lil salty he lost a game, i promise i ain't showing favoritism to najma lmfao, this fic was second place for the poll i posted week ago, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated jean baby mother aka @honeybleed

When Jean lost a game, you always seemed to walk on eggshells. The nicely decorated home grows silent as a mouse when your family enters the mansion. Your son seemed to fall asleep during the long ride from the ice rink to the house, and you only tucked him in his bed after stripping him out of his clothes. Neatly folding up the hockey jersey with his father's number on it and placing it away, you placed a loving kiss on top of his sandy brown colored curls before exiting the room. You were sure to close the door behind you since you weren't sure how Jean would react due to losing the game.

When Jean's team lost, he grew quiet. A little too quiet. His interviews with ESPN and other sports outlets weren't as cheerful and confident. You could literally see the frustration and sadness in his light brown hues. The rides home are always silent, other than the questions your five-year-old would ask randomly. As a new wag (an obnoxious term for wives & girlfriends of sports players), you always ask the other partners how exactly they handle huge losses.

Eren's wife, Emilia would only shrug, mumbling about how Eren usually forgets about the loss after a day or two before he's back on the ice, perfecting any screw-ups he made during the game. Connie's girlfriend CJ would make a subtle joke about giving him head after the game to make him forget about the disappointing end of the hockey team's season.

You walked towards the master bedroom of your home, your body leaning against the door frame as you watched Jean tug off the Grey Nike sweatshirt he wore. He tossed it in the laundry hamper in the corner of your room, now only in a white wifebeater. His toned arm flexed with each movement he made as he shuffled around the room. Occasionally, his gold necklace with your initials and your son's initials moved with each quick motion he made.

"Do you want to talk about it? I know it was such an important game," Your tone was soft-spoken and came out as if you were whispering.

"Strip." was the only thing Jean uttered as he was undoing the string on his Nike jogger pants.

Your lip gloss-covered lips parted to speak, but in the back of your mind, you were just thinking about making Jean happy. He was going through some wild emotions at the moment, and who were you to object against them. They lost the opportunity to compete for the Stanley Cup, so you knew the man in front of you was seeing complete red at the moment.

"Keep my jersey on, though. Everything else off." He huffed.

You stepped further inside the room, your back backing into the door to close it so you wouldn't wake up your son. Your fingers begin to unbutton the jeans you were wearing, slowly tugging them off your smooth legs. Soon, your panties joined them as Jean's index finger motioned for you to come here. With each step you took, you could feel the cool breeze in your room hit your bare bottom, sending a chill down your spine.

When you were face to face with Jean, he didn't say much. However, you could feel how hot he was. How frustrated he was. One harsh push on your king-sized bed caused your lips to let out a gasp. Your body hit the bed like a fragile little doll Jean wanted to play with. He's grabbing a hold of your ankle that was decorated with the gold anklet with his name on it with a cursive font. His lips placed soft kisses on your ankle, causing you to squirm under his firm touch. You expected him to treat you like a fragile rag doll that had just been snitched up. But boy, was you wrong. In one motion, he had turned your body around so that you were lying on your stomach, mumbling about how he needed you so badly.

"Be a pretty wife and get on all fours, m'kay," He said lowly.

You did what you were told, getting on all fours. The oversized jersey that formally belonged to Jean raised just a bit to be able to see the cup of your ass. A low yelp tumbled out your mouth when you felt Jean's large hands slap at the flesh of your ass before you could feel his hand massage the stinging flesh. A sharp hiss came out of you when you felt another slap on the opposite cheek; Jean once again repeated the process of massaging your ass cheeks. He's teasingly letting a coo tumble off his lips as you can only stutter out his name like a broken record.

"Just want to taste you real quick," His words were soft yet intimidating. He angled your body provocatively so you felt like such a filthy woman. "Just stay like that for me, please," he says before his callous fingertips are traced alongside your puffy lips. The teasing action caused your skin to be littered with goosebumps.

Once again, you desperately coughed up a yelp when you felt him slap at your throbbing cunt that was aching for his attention. The similar motion he did with your asscheek, Jean's multimillion-dollar massage at your pussy. This time, your wetness coated his fingers ever so negligibly. "You like it when I do that, huh?" He asked.

He didn't wait for you to respond before kneeling to taste you. The flat of his tongue collided with your puffy lips to lick up your juices formed just by his spankings. A weak whimper came out of you as you seemed to relax in his touch as he was eating you out. When Jean wanted to taste, he wanted to taste every fiber of you. Practically burying his face in the messiness between your thighs caused your toes to curl.

"Jean." You moaned out as you felt him glide his tongue up your slit. The lewd sound of him slurping up the mess he was making bounced off the bedroom walls. You could feel the sharpness of his nose poking you from the back; the man practically was devouring you at the moment. You were so close to breaking the perfect arch, but you knew what consequences were to come.

"Fuck." You moaned before you reached out, clawing at his sandy brown hair. Your fingers grabbed his hair as you rocked backward upon his kitten licks. Your orgasm was right there; you were so close to the finish line while your knees were growing hazy.

But Jean soon pulled away, letting your body fall limp like a deflated balloon that's lost all its air. Your poor cunt felt like it was pulsing, your orgasm was snatched away from you, and the lump of pleasurable despair disappeared.

"I can't have you cummin' just yet, baby girl," Jean commented. The little facial hair he had was stained with your juices. His upper lip lingered with your scent, and his tongue tasted like you. Maybe that made the man in a complete trance all over again.

His grey sweatpants grew tight at the crotch area. His dick was screaming to be released from the tight compress of his sweats and boxers. Jean quickly pushed down his sweats and stepped out of them like an over-enthusiastic virgin that was about to get a spliff of pussy for the first time. His blood was fuming, and he was still a bit frustrated by the loss. Especially considering the number of penalties he racked up during the game. His cock bulged in the black-colored Ethika boxers (another sponsorship he received for singing a multimillion-dollar contract) before he tugged them down also. His thick cock tapped at his toned torso when his boxers came down also.

Once again, he's grabbing onto you like a doll, dragging your whithering body toward the end of the bed. His hand firmly pushed your lower back to ensure your arch was perfect. It was a wonderful sight to see his beautiful wife completely exposed like this to him. A lovely ass up face-down position just so he can have his way with him.

You were anticipating for Jean to shove his cock inside you. Despite it being the same dick you've ridden, sucked, choked on, and the list goes on, you still found yourself chewing your lower lip off at adjusting to his girth. He was a grower for sure, with a slight curve that could kiss at that spot that caused your pedicures toes to curl. Your favorite part of his dick was his tip. It was a splendid sight when you would climb under the covers to suck him off when he complained about morning wood. It was a nice mushroom shape with a slit that gushed out so much cum when he wanted to.

"You know if you relax. You'll get used to it quicker." Jean suggested. With his slender digits climbing up the jersey, you had on to undo the bra you were wearing.

With quickness, you're removing your bra tossing it to the side with ease. Your hips bucking to receive any form of friction between Jean and yourself, but you could only feel his tip tap at your sopping entrance. "Don't be so fuckin' rude, and wait," Jean uttered as he grabbed a hold of his cock. He rubbed his tip at your entrance. Teasing you bit by bit before he's pooling all of the spit in his mouth and letting it drop down on his cock. His hand stroked his dick quickly before he once again was poking at your entrance.

"You want to make me feel better after that horrible game, right?" Jean questioned.

You only nodded as you were on all fours, your fingers grasping at the sheets below you before your mouth gasped apart, feeling him stretch you out. He didn't even wait until you adjusted to his huge size before he was pushing himself inside you like a madman. His hands grasping at your asscheeks just to feel upon you a little more. His thrusts weren't the usual slow and passionate filled; they were harsher. He was genuinely fucking you like he hated you. It was your fault that the team was two points short of going to the play for the Stanley Cup. You could only let out poor pathetic moans, moaning out for Jean.

"That's a good fuckin' girl; you're taking my dick so well," Jean uttered as his hips bucked forward into the plush of your ass. His eyes glowed excitedly at the sight of your pretty pussy, swallowing him with each thrust. The mixture of your wetness and the spit he coated on his coat was imprinted on your thighs like a nasty masterpiece.

He had one hand holding your back down while the other was grasping at the hockey jersey with his last name on it. He gripped the jersey severely to have some form of control over his brass thrusts. Ignoring your whimpers for him to slow down, or you would cum.

"Don't cum." Jean uttered out.

His words were more like a command, a dangerous warning you wanted to poke at until he exploded.

"Please Jean..." You whined into the pillow, which at this point was stained with your own drool and tears.

"What did I say, hm?" He questioned. His right hand slapped at your ass cheek causing you to let out a whine.

"Don't...cum," You hiccupped between moans.

Jean would only hum in agreement. His hips irrationally bottomed inside your dripping cunt before he pinned your arms behind your back. His tight grip on you caused you to chew at your lip as if it were some chew toy. "We'll cum together like it's supposed to fuckin' be," He commented.

You felt so lightheaded at the intense amount of stimulation upon your body. Your limbs felt like they were screaming for you to relax, and the burning sensation that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach was ready to burst.

Jean's hold he had on your folded arms only grew tight with each shove forward into your pussy. He could feel his balls grow heavy each time he tapped at that one spot that caused your eyes to cruise in the back of your head. Jean's eyes were shifted closed as he was so pussy drunk, the harsh groan that grumbled off the back of his neck caused his Adam's apple to move. His thick white cum filled you up to the brim as you moaned through the sensation. Jean brought the ends of his wifebeater up to his teeth, nibbling at the ends as he rocked you on his cock slowly. He could feel your pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him of every droplet of his cum. His brown hues practically glistened at the creamy sight of a white ring around his cock with each slow thrust.

When he pulled out slowly, letting the hold he had on you go and watching you collapse breathlessly on your stomach. His fingers combed through his hair, which seemed to stick to his forehead due to the intense workout.

"I feel much better now, baby, thank you."

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #aot x reader #aot smut #anime smut #anime x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #female reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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ferrariseventeen · 7 months

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18 + minors dni

recently had a dream about shy!bass player wonwoo and it’s driving me insane like he’s just some guy who decided to join his friends college band out of pity and now he’s touring the world?? although it would have been a few years since the band had gained traction he would still be the same shy normal guy he had always been,especially compared to his rowdy bandmates, the real rockstars of the group.

sure he loosened up and was trying his hardest to fit into the world he had been thrust into but he just couldn’t commit to the bit. he was more focused on the music,the behind the scenes stuff rather than the rockstar act,the crazy benders and the girls.

of course he liked the attention,it gave him an ego boost,how could it not? but it never got past that,he never hooked up with fans like the lead singer or dated models like the drummer, he just kept to himself. girls and guys threw themselves at him and as much as he found them attractive it was a fickle kind of attraction,no one ever really stuck in his mind for more than a few hours, in fact the only person who did was his college crush.

his band mates urged him to use his new found fame to sweep you off your feet,he was in one of the biggest bands in the world fuck you’d probably throw yourself at him too but he refused to reach out through sheer embarrassment. you’d always been a smart girl,you would see through his pathetic masquerade and see him for what he always had been,an incompetent dork. it’s not like you were ever mean to him,in fact it's like you acted as if he were invisible even though his crush on you was as clear as day.

he never resented you for it,you were too good for him, beautiful and smart and so put together. the most perfect girl he had ever laid eyes on. he had tried to shake the crush but even now it was your face he compared every girls too,searching for you in the crowds as his fingers pulled at his bass strings,thinking of you as those same fingers curled around his cock at night. he wasn't proud of it but he couldn’t help it,thinking about you in those intimate moments, it was just your lips were the most perfect he had ever seen and the thought of them wrapping around his cock always clouded his mind whenever he laid his head down on some hotel pillow.

god you were so pretty,if he closed his eyes tight enough he could almost feel how soft you were if you were under him. he would imagine your pretty eyes all wide and teary as he fucked you,saying his name over and over with your sing song voice,the voice that could send him over the edge all on its own. he’d spend so many hours alone thinking of you like this,in all positions as he came over and over till he passed out,exhausted with your name still hanging off his lips.

#hmmm this is deffo part 1 of this #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #💿 bass!player wonwoo

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evansbby · 1 year

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𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲! (𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞) (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark!Steve, possessive Steve, alcohol consumption, mentions of: inebriation. 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve and omega find themselves at yet another frat party.

“You having fun, baby?” Steve whispers in your ear before he resumes pressing kisses down your neck. He’s got an almost finished beer in one hand, but his other hand is free to fondle you. He rubs up and down your bare arm before his fingers settle on your thigh and give it a squeeze.

You’re at another frat party with Steve, and they’ve become slightly more bearable now. But the loud, thumping music and the bazillion bodies crammed into one frat house still make you extremely nervous. As does the copious amounts of alcohol that everyone around you seems to be downing — especially Steve, who’s consumed about seven beers, plus plenty of shots (yes, you were keeping track).

“It’s alright.” You answer his question, hoping no one is watching while Steve practically devours your face and neck with sloppy kisses. He’s clearly a bit drunk. And of course, very horny, since he’d dragged you into this dim corner to make out about ten minutes ago. And you were thankful for the semi-privacy, because before that he’d been pawing at you and sticking his hands up your dress in front of everyone — which wasn’t ideal but Steve never cared what anyone else thought.

“Mm, doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying yourself.” He muses, bringing his beer up to your lips, “you sure you don’t want a taste, baby? To loosen you up a bit?” His pupils are dark and dilated, but there’s a glint in them all the same as he nudges the can against your lips. “C’mon, omega, one tiny sip?”

“No thank you, Steve,” you say politely, shooting him a pleading look. Alcohol of any kind still scares you and brings back bad memories, but you’re happy that at least Steve’s a happy drunk.

He shrugs and downs it himself. And then his eyes narrow and you follow his gaze towards a bunch of girls in the middle of the room. They’re clearly drunk, stumbling around and climbing on top of a table to dance.

“Stupid sluts.” Steve comments darkly, clutching you closer to him as if he thinks you’ll run and join them or something. “Those are the type of girls who’ll never find a mate. No alpha is interested in slutty attention-seekers like that, you understand?” He strokes your hair like you’re his pet, leaning down to give you another possessive kiss, “You’re lucky you’re nothing like them, baby. You’re sweet and innocent, and—”

“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night! I was wondering if you could give me some feedback on my performance in the last football game?”

It’s Jake Jensen. He sidles up to the two of you with an eager grin on his face and a drink in his hand, and Steve mutters a string of curses against your lips.

“Go the fuck away, Jensen. What have I told you about approaching me outside of football?” Steve grunts, glaring meanly at the younger alpha. And then he pulls you closer against him with a firm, possessive arm around your waist.

Jensen’s face falls, “I just thought I played kind of well, you know? Thought I proved myself in your eyes, and I’d love if you could just tell me what you thought—”

“You’re the shittiest player on the team, Jensen.” Steve says nonchalantly and you wince. How mean! And it wasn’t even true, because you’d been to a few of Steve’s practices now and Jake seemed like he was a good player, in your opinion.

“Oh.” Jake looks crestfallen as he turns to leave. But someone bumps into him from behind, and in slow-motion, the drink in Jake’s hand spills all over you, seeping through your dress and soaking you down to the skin.

“JENSEN, YOU FUCKING MORON!” Steve explodes, pushing you behind him before he grabs a shell-shocked Jake by the collar, shaking the poor freshman boy till his glasses fall down his nose. “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU EMBARRASS MY GIRLFRIEND?!”

Jake looks white as a ghost, “I-I didn’t mean to—” he turns to you with a pleading look in his eyes, “I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry!”

“It’s okay!” You squeak but you’re not sure anyone hears you. Steve growls angrily when he sees that Jake is talking directly to you. But what happens next is even worse. In his panicked state, Jake drunkenly fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and starts dabbing at your drenched dress with it.

Predictably, Steve loses it.

“ARE YOU FUCKING TOUCHING MY GIRLFRIEND, JENSEN? Are you really that fucking stupid?” Steve gives Jake an almighty push that has the younger alpha staggering back with a fearful look in his eyes. And you know that a sober Steve would’ve killed the poor guy, but a drunken Steve still has a lot of wrath despite his sluggish movements. “You think my girl’s gonna feel sorry for you? You think you have a chance with her? Fuckin’ pawing at her like she’s a free piece of ass?!”

You wince before grabbing Steve’s arm and telling him to stop. But it’s no use and everyone knows it. You’re just lucky that the alcohol in Steve’s system has slowed him down a bit, because sober Steve would’ve murdered the poor boy in ten seconds flat.

“I didn’t paw at her, I was just trying to help her!” Jake protests.

“Are you calling me a liar, Jensen?” Steve seethes. “You’ve had your creepy eyes on my girl since day one, don’t think I can’t tell! I’m not fucking blind, you dumbass moron! I’ll have you kicked off the football team for even looking at her! Hell, I’ll have you fucking expelled, even. How does that sound, dumbass?” He shakes the poor freshman by his collar, “huh? How does that fucking sound??”

Jake looks like he’s about to cry, or piss himself out of fear. Thankfully, that’s when a few other alphas from the football team intervene. It takes both Thor and Sam to pry Steve off of Jensen, and you see Sam whisper something in Steve’s ear as Thor leads Jake away.

“Can you take him away to cool off somewhere?” Sam’s voice snaps you out of your frozen state and you nod, happy to be of some use.

Steve is drunker than you originally thought, and helping his considerably larger, 6’6 frame down the hallway takes every ounce of your strength — which isn’t a lot to begin with.

“Can you believe Jensen thinks he has a chance with you?” Steve scoffs, slurring his words as he leans against you. You thank your lucky stars that he can still keep himself up somewhat, because if he put even an ounce more of weight against you, you’d probably both end up on the floor.

“Flirting with my omega right in front of my fucking eyes!” Steve fumes, more to himself now as you both navigate down this random hallway. You don’t even know where you’re meant to be taking him—you just want to get him as far away from Jake and more alcohol as possible.

“You’re the prettiest girl on campus, as if he ever stood a chance. I should shove his fucking glasses up his ass for touching you like that. Son of a bitch.”

The compliment makes you pause, your heart lifting. Steve thought you were the prettiest girl on campus? Well, he was drunk and not thinking clearly, because it obviously wasn’t true. Not when his ex looked like a supermodel.

You don’t have time to ponder over his words, however, because the big alpha stumbles just as soon as your fingers curl around a random doorknob, and both of you fall into a bathroom that’s thankfully unoccupied.

“Aha! You dragged me in here so we could fuck, didn’t you?” Steve’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches down to pinch your ass. You yelp softly, but remember not to bat his hand away because you’re not allowed to do that - whether he’s drunk or sober, it doesn’t matter.

“Wh-What, no!” You protest but he’s not listening. He grabs you by the hips and yanks you forward, flipping the lid of the toilet seat down before taking a seat and pulling you into his lap.

“Aww, my little baby omega got horny at the party, so you decided to take me somewhere private, hm?” He sponges kisses down your neck, hands slipping up to fondle your breasts through your dress. It suddenly makes you acutely aware of how wet the material still is from the drink that was dropped on you earlier, and the stench of alcohol seems to be sticking to your skin.

It’s when Steve starts fingering your panties and pulling them aside that you jump off his lap and make a beeline for the sink.

“I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just... my dress is completely drenched.” You try not to let it affect you but you can feel your lower lip wobble and your eyes begin to water. It’s a weird reaction that’s come out of nowhere, but the strong smell of booze only brings back unsavoury memories of things you really don’t want to remember.

“Come back, omega.” Steve orders you, palming his dick through his jeans. “You got me all hard, baby. Well, I’m always hard when I’m with you, but that’s besides the point. Now get back here.”

You try splashing water on your dress and scrubbing away the smell but all that does is make you feel wetter and even more disgusting. Panic begins to set in, what if the smell never came off? What if you were doomed to spend the rest of the party in this booze-soaked dress? The smell was already taking you back… all you had to do was close your eyes and you were back at home, with all the yelling and screaming and hitting and–

“No, no, no!” You shake your head, sinking down to the floor. It’s only when you try (and fail) to breathe that you realise you’re having a panic attack.

“Hey. Come back to me.” Steve’s voice cuts through your racing thoughts, his warm hands cupping your cheeks and his potent scent helping you breathe. “Come back, omega. I’m right here.”

You feel tiny in his arms as he draws you close, but you can’t help but hug him so hard that he stumbles back a few steps.

“Don’t like the smell.” You whimper against his chest. “It won’t come off my dress, Steve. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologising but you have feeling so helpless and panicked. All you want is to go home and take a warm shower where you scrub yourself raw to get this smell off of you.

“Well, that’s an easy fix.”

Steve rips your dress in half. One second, it’s on your body. The next second, you’re standing there in your underwear, the material of your dress torn in two sorry-looking rags in either of Steve’s hands. Your alpha smirks triumphantly, as if he’s just solved world peace and world hunger all in one night. “See? Problem solved.”

“B-But how will I get home? I have nothing else to wear!”

Your alpha shrugs off his own sweatshirt and pops it over your head. And it’s like every single worry dissipates from your mind once the soft, heavy material of his sweatshirt hits your skin. It’s thick and of good quality, and so much cosier than the tight dress you’d had on. Plus, it smells absolutely heavenly.

“Thank you.” You hug him again, pressing your face against his bare chest. On any normal occasion, you’d be way too shy to show this much affection to him. You have problems giving him simple eye contact and holding his hand, hugging him is something you can’t even imagine doing off your own accord. But you’re so thankful to have the alcohol-soaked dress away from you, that Steve may as well be your knight in shining armour right now.

A very drunk knight in shining armour.

“See, there isn’t a problem I can’t solve.” Steve boasts, hugging you back and kissing the top of your head. He’s always touchy with you but it’s usually a lot more lewd. This, standing here hugging in a stranger’s bathroom, slightly swaying together, it feels a lot more intimate. Romantic, even.

He half carries you to the bathtub, and you let out a squeak of protest when he casually just settles down inside it. Lying down and pulling you on top of him, your back to his chest. You giggle, “Steve! You have a huge, king-sized bed at home, you don’t need to sleep here!” (You’re hopeful that he might call an uber and take you home because you’ve had about enough of this party).

Steve booms with laughter, “Home? What am I, a pussy? Let’s just rest our eyes, and then we’ll go back downstairs and party some more.”

He doesn’t rest his eyes, however. For the next five minutes, you lie there while he just… stares at you. His blue eyes dilated till they’re practically black, blinking down at you where you lie on his chest. But you’re far too cosy to feel uncomfortable, with the combined heat of Steve’s bare skin and the sweatshirt you’re wearing keeping you cocooned in delicious warmth. You just wish the alcohol-stench memories would go away, because they keep flashing inside your head every time your eyes grow heavy.

“You’ve still got that look on your face.” Steve muses, heavy hand drunkenly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You look up at him imploringly, “What look?”

“Your nightmare face.” Steve says matter-of-factly, wrapping his arms around you even tighter as your head snaps upwards.

“My wh-what?”

“Your nightmare face. You do it all the time in your sleep. You start frowning and whimpering.” Steve shrugs, tracing the planes of your face with his pointer finger. Stroking your cheekbone before going down to rub over your bottom lip. “A lot of the time, you start doing it when I get up early to go to the gym. But then I just throw your toy at you and it seems to work because you calm down.”

You can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re hearing, “M-My toy?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “The little fluffy guy. Steve Junior or whatever.” He bats his hand dismissively and knocks over a bottle of shampoo and a bodywash, which he seems to find hilarious because he bursts out laughing, “Whoops.”

“I’m sorry!” You blurt out, feeling your palms begin to sweat. “I didn’t realise I had a nightmare face, and it’s not your job to have to take care of me when I… do all that.”

He kisses you, lips soft as a pillow as they work against yours. It amazes you how sweetly Steve kisses you sometimes, and how tender and careful he’s being right now despite the fact that he’s so drunk. Even the taste of alcohol on his tongue doesn’t seem to bother you because it’s him, and you can’t get enough of him.

“I wish I knew what gets you so scared every night.” He whispers against your lips, cupping your face and holding you close. He takes a deep breath, his long lashes fanning his cheekbones as he strokes your cheeks. “I hope it’s not me.”

“It’s not.” You breathe, but it’s swallowed by his kiss, which is more passionate and deeper now as he begins to pull you closer to him. His hands slip up the sweatshirt you have on, cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze. And that’s when you know that the tender moment is over, and Steve is horny once more.

“Just a quickie,” Steve murmurs excitedly, and it’s crazy how quickly his mind has jumped to sex, and you wonder if he’ll remember how sweet he was just a few seconds ago. It made your heart skip a beat, but now he’s trying to peel your clothes off. “C’mon, baby. Gotta be inside you right now. Gotta–”

The bathroom door crashes open at the exact moment, and Steve lets out a string of curse words under his breathe as your eyes register who it is…

“Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” Jake Jensen mutters to himself, clearly unaware that he’s not alone in the bathroom. The sound of him unzipping his fly has you gasping and covering your eyes as Steve jumps to his feet and drags you up with him.

“JENSEN, DON’T YOU DARE WHIP YOUR DICK OUT IN FRONT OF MY GIRLFRIEND, OR ELSE I’LL GOUGE YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT!”

THE END FUK BYEEEEEE IDK WHAT THIS WAS I’M NOT TOO PROUD OF IT, I JUST... IDK HOW TO WRITE STEVE IN DRABBLES BC I DON’T WANT TO DEVELOP HIS CHARACTER, SINCE THAT IS FOR THE MAIN FIC!!!! IDEK YALL FUCKKKKK BYE

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #chris evans #poyt drabble

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heavenlyhischier · 8 months

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𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry)

summary: after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other?

warnings: angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

note: this is part of my follower celebration! i'm so glad i finally wrote about the future captian of the vancouver canucks please guys im begging you.

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed.

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt.

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again.

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails.

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him.

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body.

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower.

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you.

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes smut

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destiny-fics · 25 days

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Fuck Those (New) Frat Boys

Welcome to the ZB1 Fraternity, how may we help you?

Following the footsteps of the infamous SKZ fraternity, President Sung Hanbin and his fellow frat brothers are maintaining a legacy of important charity work, lavish parties, academic achievement and, of course, catching the eyes and hearts of anyone who meets them.

Which member will catch your eye first?

Pairing: ZB1 Legal Line (Jiwoong-Gyuvin) x Fem!Reader (Individual stories for each member)

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, College!au, Non-Idol!au.

Set in the same universe as my SKZ series "Fuck those frat boys."

Individual warnings will be at the start of each fic

This series is 18+ so minors kindly DNI

Stories

The Teacher's Aid - Kim Jiwoong

"You do know making out in the T.A office is against university policy, right Jiwoong?"

"I do. But I also plan to do a lot more things that break university policy in here too."

The First Chair - Zhang Hao

"You want me...to play in your string quartet?"

"It might not look like it, but I do actually pay attention when you play and you're the best cellist here. Come on, what do you say?"

The Frat President - Sung Hanbin

"Do you ever think that maybe you spread yourself too thin Hanbin?"

"I prefer to say I never back down from a commitment."

The Hallway Crush - Seok Matthew

"I never expected our first meeting to be because you're fucking one of my frat brothers."

Can't exactly say I expected it either Matthew."

The Guitar Player - Kim Taerae

"One night Taerae, and then we can stage a breakup, we just need to convince her so she'll stop setting me up on dates."

"One night, then that's it."

The Frat Sweetheart - Shen Ricky

"You know for the fraternity sweetheart you really are a dick Ricky Shen."

"At least I don't have a perpetual stick up my ass."

The Best Friend - Kim Gyuvin

"No can do, your brother specifically told me not to touch you."

"But my brother didn't tell you that you couldn't look at me."

#kpop smut #zerobaseone smut #zb1 smut #sung hanbin smut #kim jiwoong smut #zhang hao smut #seok matthew smut #kim taerae smut #shen ricky smut #shen quanrui smut #kim gyuvin smut #hard thoughts with rose #kpop hard hours #zb1 hard hours #zb1 hard thoughts #zb1 x reader

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morallyinept · 4 months

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YIPPEE KI-YAY! - A Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller Christmas One Shot

Summary: You, Sarah and Joel settle in to watch a Christmas film together, bickering gently over if Die Hard is classed as a Christmas movie or not. When Sarah goes to bed, you try and sway Joel to your opinion.

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 3.3K

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Oral M receiving - lucky Joel!

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas film. Come at me. 😎

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Got the marshmallows?” You query, as Sarah steps forward holding a mug out for you.

“Please.” She throws you a coy look and you smirk.

You regard her with a smile, standing in the kitchen that’s still so new to you.

Joel’s kitchen, despite the occasional chaos of a single dad and his teenage daughter navigating the same space, emanates a sense of warmth and homeliness and the scents of burnt toast. And is surprisingly clean and well organised. Although, you suspect Sarah is probably responsible for that.

A handwritten 'to-do' list is on the fridge in writing that looks like Sarah’s, with items like 'take out the trash' and 'unload the dishwasher,' reflecting a gentle reminder for both father and daughter to share the responsibilities of maintaining their space.

During the very short time that you’ve gotten to know Sarah, it's evident she takes care of her dad, more than he’d like to admit, but Joel would agree that she’s wiser and mature for her tender years.

Something that you know he wrestles with, pertaining to some slight regret that he has to work so much and leave her to bring herself up on occasion.

She gathers the bag of marshmallows into her mouth, the plastic creaking between her teeth as it dangles and picks up two mugs.

“Gimme that,” you chuckle, pulling it from her lips as she giggles, and you follow her through into the lounge, elbowing the kitchen light off.

Joel is on his knees in the lounge, pushing the disc into the DVD player, and sits back on his heels as you both come through.

A black t-shirt runs tight over his broad shoulders, and his hair is still a little unkempt from you running your fingers through it whilst he was between your legs, only hours before.

He takes the mug from Sarah with big hands, with a crooked smile and a thank ya, baby.

The Christmas tree is up, although a little askew, and with lots of colourful string lights knotted around the branches. A handmade, paper angel sits atop the tree; a six year-old Sarah’s creation, that Joel has taken care of and insisted would adorn the tree for the rest of its delicate existence, despite one of the sequined eyes missing now.

You settle onto the couch with Sarah, a gap left in the middle for Joel, whilst he brings out a bottle of the stronger stuff and proceeds to pour some into yours and his mug.

“Can I have some of that?” Sarah asks.

“Absolutely not.” Joel gruffs and doesn’t even look up.

“Come on, man. It’s Christmas.” She says.

Joel glances up at you bemused, and you shrug. “I’m not being the bad guy.” You say, smirking.

“Please?” Sarah continues.

He sighs, caving. “If ya get sick, ya cleaning it up yourself.” He warns and proceeds to pour a little glug of the whiskey into Sarah’s mug.

She smiles accomplished, settling back into the couch, sniffing the infusion of dark, heady notes mixing with the cocoa.

You plop a couple of marshmallows into your mug from the bag, and Joel finally sits in between you both and clicks the menu button on the remote.

“Die hard?” You ask, scoffing as the opening credits roll across the screen. “You had one task, Joel.”

“Ultimate Christmas movie, darlin’.” Joel announces proudly. He waggles his eyebrows at you, but you’re not buying it.

“Just be grateful it isn’t Curtis and The Viper, that’s Dad’s favourite.” Sarah says. “I’ve seen it far too much.”

“I got that for after,” Joel chuckles, evilly.

“This is not a Christmas film.” You pout.

“Is too.” Joel says.

“Home Alone? Christmas movie. It's a Wonderful Life? Christmas movie. Die Hard? It's an action classic with a festive backdrop at best.” You say.

Sarah, with a mock serious expression, points at the TV. "You know, the only thing missing from this Christmas masterpiece is a cameo from Santa himself."

Joel smirks. "Ya mean the gritty, action-hero version of Santa who delivers presents via rooftop jumps n’ takes out Hans Gruber?"

Sarah laughs. "Exactly! Badass Santa."

Joel leans into her shoulder, his eyes gleaming. "Santa in a red camo suit, armed with candy cane nun-chucks, fightin' off the Grinch n’ his gang of holiday heisters."

Sarah shakes her head, trying not to let a smile break through. "You're turning Christmas into a comic book. Die Hard is not the graphic novel we need for the holiday season."

“Please don’t encourage him.” You whine.

"It’s the one we deserve," Joel declares with a theatrical flair.

You sigh dramatically. "You're impossible. I bet you think fruitcake is a gourmet holiday treat too."

Joel and Sarah both gasp in mock horror. "Fruitcake slander!” Sarah says.

“Now that's a crime worse than anything in Die Hard. Ya've crossed a line, darlin’."

Sarah can’t help but giggle. “Dad loves fruitcake.”

“Your dad is a fruitcake.” You clarify with a grin.

“Ya hearin’ this?” Joel says incredulously to Sarah, shaking his head as he sups from his mug.

"I'm just saying, there are certain standards for Christmas entertainment. Die Hard doesn't quite fit the mustard." You say, slurping from your own mug too.

Joel leans back, a mischievous glint in his chocolate eyes. "Standards? S’all about breakin’ traditions. Die Hard is the rebel of Christmas movies n’ shit."

“Nope. Not a Christmas film.” You declare.

“S’a good job ya pretty.” Joel says, leaning in to place a kiss on you, then pecks you ferociously.

“Gross.” Sarah winces, as you push Joel off of you, mindful of spilling your hot chocolate.

“Yippee Ki-Yay, baby!” Joel teases her.

“Gross? Sounds like jealousy to me!” Joel leans across her and pelts her face with kisses as she wails, almost spilling her own mug over the carpet too.

"Dad!”

You grin. "You're turning into a Die Hard evangelist. If I had known this before, I might not have given you my number that night in the bar.”

Joel turns to you. “Too late now. Ya stuck with me.”

You smile at him, feeling warm as he looks at you, smiling back with dilating pupils. Perhaps it’s the whiskey or perhaps it's something else.

Perhaps it’s the continued insatiable appetite you have for him, and have had since you both met.

Joel and your serendipitous meeting at a dimly lit bar a few weeks back set the stage for a blossoming, hot romance that neither of you saw coming. It was a Friday night, and the air was filled with the lively hum of laughter and the clinking of glasses in a festive atmosphere.

Joel, nursing a whiskey at the bar after a long, tiring day on the site, couldn't help but notice you sitting alone at a corner table, engrossed in a book, but slowly peeping at him over the top of the pages and smiling.

Joel decided to take a chance, spurred on by past conversations with Sarah about how he should date and put himself out there more. With a bewitching smile, he approached your table and struck up a conversation about the book you were immersed in.

As it turned out, Joel wasn’t much of a reader, but you could forgive him with his soft, brown eyes and broad shoulders that hunched up when he laughed genuinely at your jokes.

What started as a casual, flirty chat quickly evolved into a deeper connection as you discovered attractions and common interests, when you came up for air from under the sheets.

Although, not about Christmas movies, evidently.

“I'm waiting for you to start handing out pamphlets door to door that say, 'have you accepted our Lord and Saviour, John McClane into your life?'" You titter.

Joel laughs. "If John McClane knocked on my door, I'd invite him in for Christmas dinner n’ put you two out.”

Sarah points at the screen. "See, explosions and chaos.”

“That's not exactly what I call a festive holiday atmosphere." You say.

“Ya two are crazy. Come on, it's action-packed holiday fun! What more could ya want?"

Sarah leans back, crossing her arms. "I don't know, maybe a heartwarming message about the true meaning of Christmas? Where's the cheese factor?"

Joel smirks. "Who needs cheese when ya have 'Yippee-ki-yay?' Classic Christmas catchphrase right there."

“I like cheese.” You pout.

Sarah rolls her eyes. "Classic action movie catchphrase, maybe. I don't see Hallmark putting that on a Christmas card."

Joel raises an eyebrow. "Hallmark wishes they had a fuckin’ hero like John McClane in their lineup. Now, that's a Christmas card I’d buy."

“You’ve never brought a Christmas card in your life, dad.” Sarah smirks.

“Damn waste of money. Ya gonna throw it in the bin anyhow.” He shrugs.

You smile, reaching for the whiskey and Joel holds his mug out towards you for a top up. "You're missing the point. Christmas movies are about love, family, and maybe a little bit of magic. Die Hard has, what, explosions and a bald guy in a dirty tank top?"

Joel puts his finger on the neck of the bottle so you pour more into his mug. At this point it’s neat whiskey flavoured with cocoa.

“He’s kind of hot though. Bruce Willis.” You say.

“See, ya do like it.” Joel grins. “I win.”

“He is hot.” Sarah agrees.

“Ya too young to notice that he’s hot.” Joel retorts.

“I’m fourteen, dad. I have periods now.”

“Mhm. Less I know ‘bout that the better, thank ya.”

“Yikes.” You chime in, grinning.

"Don't forget the Santa hat. That's festive." Joel says, pointing at the screen a little while later.

Sarah scoffs. "A Santa hat doesn't magically transform a movie into a Christmas classic. It's like putting tinsel on a cactus and calling it a Christmas tree."

Joel laughs. "Hey, a cactus with tinsel sounds pretty festive to me.”

“Why can I imagine you doing this?” You query to Joel.

“He did. Last year.” Sarah confirms and you snort.

“I might've forgotten to get a Christmas tree.” Joel holds his hands up, grunting.

“How do you forget to get a Christmas tree?”

“I was working.” “He was working.” Joel and Sarah both say at the same time.

“Die Hard is the cactus of Christmas movies - prickly on the outside, but there's a nice holiday surprise waitin'." Joel says.

“You have an answer for everything.” You snicker.

“Well, that's why ya like me…” Joel says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Maybe,” you smile back at him, meeting his lips. He kisses you a little deeper, tasting the warmth of the whiskey on his tongue.

“Stop it.” Sarah says, and you both chuckle.

You feel Joel’s fingers interlock with yours and give them a gentle squeeze.

Later, you turn to see Sarah with her head back, eyes closed and mouth open.

You nudge Joel, rousing him from the film, and he smirks, shaking his head.

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arm out, and you nestle inside it, head pressed against his chest as you watch the movie.

“Lightweight.” He snorts and you smile.

He takes Sarah’s mug from her lap and places it on the coffee table. As he sits back, he turns to you.

You feel him kiss the top of your head, and your fingers skim the hem of his t-shirt and stroke softly at the skin under there. You can feel the galaxy of soft hairs around his belly button and he hums out contentedly and you scritch softly there.

"Y’know, watching Die Hard with ya… maybe we should make it a yearly tradition?" He murmurs.

“Oh really?” You tease looking up at him.

Joel leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice. "Who needs mistletoe when ya have John McClane savin’ Christmas? Though, I wouldn't mind a little mistletoe action right now..."

“Mm,” you crane up, pressing your lips to his as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

"Smooth, McClane. Very smooth." Sarah chuckles, a grin spreading across her cheeks.

Joel stops kissing you and smirks. “Get ya drunk ass to bed.”

“I’m not drunk, but I'd rather be throwing up in the toilet than watching you two suck face.”

Sarah stands as you giggle.

“Hey, gimme some sugar.” Joel calls back to her.

She turns and leans down to give Joel a kiss as he pats her on the back. “Night, baby.”

She then comes over to you and gives you a cuddle and a peck on the side of the cheek.

“Night, sweetie.” You say with a bright smile.

As Sarah hugs you goodnight, the scent of her coconut shampoo filling your nose, you can't help but be taken aback by the authenticity of the gesture.

It’s as if that bridge of trepidation and angst of Sarah accepting you has been cemented with shared laughter, keen interest, and now, a simple, yet genuine hug.

Joel catches you smiling as Sarah leaves the room, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.

“Ya wanna stay again tonight?” Joel asks.

“If you’re sure?” You ask.

He nods. “She likes ya. S’fine.”

“I really like her too.” You say. “She’s a good kid. You’ve done great with her.”

“She’s a smartass.” He retorts.

“Just like her dad, then.” You cluck.

“Easy,” Joel holds his arm out and you nestle back into it, putting your feet up.

A little while later and the film comes to an end. And you can’t help but smile when Joel asks you your thoughts.

"Fine, maybe Die Hard has its own twisted Christmas charm. But don't expect me to wrap it up and put it under the tree." You titter.

Joel chuckles. "Who needs gift wrap when ya've got a Nakatomi Plaza-sized bow on top?”

“Mm, it's the gift that keeps on giving." You mirth.

Joel shakes his head, as he leans in for a kiss. “No. You are.”

“Mr Miller, are you getting soft on me?” You giggle as he smooches at you.

“Quite the opposite, darlin’…” He takes your hand resting on his chest and slides it down to the hardening bulge in his jeans.

“Mmm,” you remark, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Now, how has this occurred? You got a thing for me or John McClane?”

“Both.” Joel smirks and you chuckle.

“You and John want the room?”

“I’ve had too much whiskey. I can’t be held responsible for what I say or do right now.”

He leans in and kisses you again. His lips are full and plumpy and they devour you greedily as his tongue searches his way around your mouth; caressing and creating sparks down your spine.

“I think I know what I wanna do right now,” you whisper to him.

You can taste the tang of the whiskey, the sweetness of the cocoa; feel the warmth emanating from him into your bloodstream.

Hear the small clicking sounds as you both osculate intensely. Savouring the taste of him, the smell of him this close and the sheer bliss of his tongue working up that dark voodoo magic.

“What’s that, darlin’?” Joel asks, with hooded eyes.

You wiggle out of his giant hands and drop to your knees in between his. You tug his jeans down, clumsily, but fast as he pops open the button, eager for what’s to come.

“Well, alright then!” He gasps.

He cups his cock on the outside of his boxers adjusting it, and you run your hands up his legs towards the goods.

Slipping your fingers inside the waistband, you pull them down too as he lifts his ass off the couch for a second so you can fully yank them down those long legs smattered with dark hairs.

Joel’s presented to you again in all his hard, thick glory. Glistening in the light as you watch him thumb over the head, collecting the glossy precum, before he holds it out to you.

He bites his lip as you suck his thumb into your mouth, tasting him.

Eyeing him, you insert him slowly inside of your mouth; him watching with widening and drooping lips as you go further and further to the base; swallowing him whole, the tip of his rounded head on the back of your gag reflex, but not heaving at all.

You sit up on your knees and take the base of him inside your hand, excitable and hard.

You pull him back out and do it again, over and over, taking him deep and slow.

“Fuck…” Joel groans delightfully, his hand stroking through your hair gently. “Ya so fuckin’ good at that. Oh, Jesus..."

You let his cock slide out of you one last time before you lower your head and take one of his balls inside your mouth. Pushing his legs wider open so you can shove your face right up in there.

You look up as he reacts instantly; almost pulling away with the mildly discomforting, yet pleasurable feeling that overtakes, as you suck gently on those puffy, pink sacks.

“Aww, shit, that’s good,” Joel whines, throwing his head back.

Whilst you suck, you massage his cock up and down with your hand; still sticky and wet from your saliva. Running your palm over the bulbous head making his hips judder and buck.

Joel sits up a little, watching you suck; the graze of his voice doing a punch out with his larynx as he struggles to speak.

“Suck it again. Show me what that pretty mouth can do, hmm?” Joel prompts.

He watches you tease the tip with your tongue before sucking him back in between your lips.

“Fuck, darlin’.” He drones, his head lolling back and closing his eyes as you suck hard on the head of him, stripping him of his breath.

You take him down deeper, something that surprises you both at the depth; sucking him like a pro and it pleases him immensely. He presses down on the back of your head testing your gag reflex and he feels you heave which makes his balls spasm.

“Tap out if ya wanna stop, okay?” He says, and you stroke his thigh in agreement.

You swallow him deeper, sliding all the way down his wet, sticky length and pushing your nose into the soft paunch of his tummy.

“Yeah, choke on my cock.” Joel encourages as you drool over it.

You heave momentarily, but still as you swallow around him. You do it again, and another heave makes you lurch a little.

You relax the back of your throat, letting him slide in all the way again. He’s impressed, not many can take him so deep down their throats, his girth is intimidating to say the least.

The husk of his grunts, like whispers pelted in wet gravel, echo inside your ears. Joel has no words; instead, the noises that are puffing out of him make you tingle all over.

His huge hands massage inside of your hair and soon you feel him fucking up into your face, pushing you deeper onto him as he thrusts his hips, forcing himself further down your throat.

"Tap out if ya want me to stop... Oh, fuck," he reminds you gently.

More heaves roll up from your stomach, inhaling deeper through your nose that it whistles somewhat, and he pants, bucking into your face as he fucks harder now.

Gug-gug-gug... an unrelenting rhythm of sticky, suction, and satisfied grunts flow from his mouth around the lounge.

“Fuck, yeah!” He growls as you open wider as he hits the back of your throat, punching the wet flesh there as you dig into his thigh skin with your nails.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He hisses. “Shit, I’m gonna come!” Joel hisses, filling your throat momentarily, some of it spilling out of your mouth and down your chin.

You scoop it up and suck it back into your mouth, swallowing it all down.

“Now, where did ya learn to suck cock like that, hmm?” Joel pants, beside himself.

“We’re all full of surprises,” you remark, smirking.

He chuckles, a wheeze in the back of his throat that's now dry and raw.

“C’mere,” he pulls you up gently to him, with a soft chuckle.

You nestle into his lap as he grips you tightly and close to him, kissing you.

“Fuck, I’m still shakin’,” he groans as you smirk at him. “Ya kill me, darlin’. What’d I do to deserve that?”

“Early Christmas present.” You shrug with a wink.

“M’a lucky son of a bitch.” He groans.

“Yes, you are,” you giggle as you kiss him.

“Gimme a few minutes n’ I’ll give ya yours.” Joel says, with twinkly eyes, his hands grabbing your ass as he pulls you closer still.

“Yippee Ki-Yay, motherfucker,” you say, as Joel grins wildly at you.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fic #christmas stories #jett's writing

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nanamimizz · 1 year

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tags: +18 minors dni, mention of someone hearing, quiet sex, fem reader, kunigami is kinda a sicko in this one, fucking someone when they hold a stuffed animal - this is so sick because im already writing for him @gothogue @saintshigaraki here u go sickos

kunigami takes a thrill in knowing that his teammates - his friends think you are cute. call it a man’s pride but he likes seeing how they’re gaze flickers at you from time to time, how he can see jealousy glint in the iris of their eyes when you lean in from your spot beside to wipe sauce from the corner of his lip with a gentle smile. he knows what they are thinking when they look at you - soccer players are already assholes and blue lock made them the worst of the worst and the best of the best.

it’s pure ego. it’s what jinpachi wanted in a striker.

which is why when isagi - the blueberry eyed shit stain stays over for a night kunigami can’t help but entertain the idea mulling in his head since the night started. the walls of the guest bedroom are shared to where the bed you two sleep in rests and kunigami will do well to use it to his advantage.

when he kisses you - mouth hot and teeth sharp you only whine into it, putting a hand on his broad chest in a feeble attempt to ease him but not to stop him makes him chuckle deep in his throat.

“rensuke - please we have company staying over.” you gasp, face hot with pleasure that embarrasses you because it always does. kunigami rarely smiles nowadays, mostly reserved for you which is why he gives you one of them and it disarms you easily.

“i’m sorry, you’re just so pretty - wanted you all night.” he finishes with beginning an onslaught of soft, gentle kisses that make you gasp and whine into them. you’re thighs spread and his knee finds itself between the soft skin; his hands digging into the pudge and you are beneath him now. he feels your thighs twitch in his grasp as your chest heaves every time you squirm, pressing your cunt to the bulk of his thigh and each time you only grow more and more damp.

you are right where he wants you, needy and wanting just like how he is for you.

he breaks the kiss he was locked in and looks down at you with a fire in the amber of his eyes when he takes in how prettily you wear neediness. eyes wide and glittering, mouth flushed and shining - he feels a tug at his chest when he thinks about how you love him enough to let him be the one to see you like this.

his fingers are in you faster than you can blink ans he’s plucked your first orgasm from the night with his expert fingers. when he has your knees in the crooks of his elbows, your cum webbing against your thighs like silk strings. he can see your clit, puffy and sticky from where you are spread - your arm is thrown over your face because even after all this time together you still can’t bear to see him fuck you like this. your demureness is as endearing as it is exciting, his favorite part of fucking you is making you forget all the politeness and platitudes you have ingrained into your mind.

“you gotta be real quiet - we don’t want isagi hearing you right?” he whispers as he presses close, cock against your cunt in a way that lets him feel your heartbeat in each flutter of your walls. you can only whine some high and soft sound and he knows isagi heard that little noise. kunigami looks at you with such reverence that when the soft fox plush thats still on the corner of the bed.

an idea is born.

he hands you it - the faux fur is soft and he remembers it was a gift to you for your birthday from a childhood friend. back then he cooed at your soft expression and now he can’t deny the heat felt in the marrow of his spine at how you clench it when he pushes his cock into you.

“hold him to keep quiet - bite him if you have to.” he murmurs to you, voice deep and wrecked with lust when you nod and whine. the back of his mind itches with additional information about the plush toy and something ignites in him when he thinks about how gentle you are, how your sentimentality makes you the sweetest thing he’s ever seen and how much he loves that about you which only makes him thrust in harder.

you do as he said, in the low lamp light he forgot to turn off he can see how you tuck your head into into the plush animal and bite down on the soft fur but that doesn’t quiet down the rocking of the bed, the wet and lewd sound of his hips smacking your lower half. even as you try your hardest to be quiet, muffled by the toy the way you whine when his cock pressed deeper and deeper into you can still be heard. kunigami grins from above you, something wicked and twisted that you don’t see as your eyes are screwed shut because he knows isagi is listening - things have smoothed over between the years but there is still that rivalry between them and in a rare moment of peacocking Kunigami couldn’t help but show off how well his sweet girl takes his cock.

you cum with a muffled moan and him with a groan. he laughs in the tired and wild way when he scores a killer goal and he wipes your tears with his thumb as he coos when he sees the damp spot on the plush animal from where you bite into the cute thing. kunigami kisses you still hot and still blazing but satisfied, for now.

when morning comes and you are walking around with a bit of a limp, isagi the poor thing can only avoid your gaze with flushed cheeks as he goes out the door with barely heard gratitude for letting him stay the night.

#lamb.writes #kunigami smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #this is so heavily inspired by fangs posting i hate that guy

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swallowedbymadness · 7 months

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♡ a melancholy melody ♡

Pairing: pianist!hongjoong x writer!fem!reader

Genre: Period piece drama/romance/aka my ultimate fantasy

Summary: As a writer, love was something you naturally longed for but thought it to be unattainable. However, when a mysterious piano player comes to town one summer, you find yourself falling into a fairytale of your own.

Word Count: 10.2k (oops)

A/N: hello again, my darlings! I come bearing another romantic Hongjoong gift. I’m currently in the middle of writing another member, but this came to me like a vision in the night. I simply could not ignore it. 🥲 aka I watched a period piece drama and needed to write aristocratic Kim Hongjoong asap. 🫠 Please I encourage leaving some feedback for me. I would love to hear your thoughts, emotions, or anything really! 🤍 18+ content, so please, minors DNI. Enjoy!🥂

Warnings: ye olden times talk (lol), romantic fluff and sweet love makin’, pet names, sensory deprivation (blind fold & fabric restraints used on reader), unprotected sex, oral (f/r), if I missed any pls let me know. 🩷

Proofread: Of course! But, you know the drill. If you see a mistake, no you don’t. 💌

You found yourself at yet another party for people you really did not care to socialize with. But of course, you could not deny your dear friend the company she begged for from you. You would much rather be at home immersed in the newly acquired novel you picked up from the bookstore the other day, upset that you were almost finished with it already.

You lived in a small town in the countryside, so it was always the same guests with nothing special to celebrate. Usually parties consisted of single wealthy men in search of a bride, so her father was always happy to oblige in their search by throwing these lavish evenings in their ballroom. You weren’t sure why you still attended, seeing as you did not care for any of the men that made the guest list. Maybe it was the consistent nagging of your childhood friend or your parents giving you a hard time for still being unwed at your age. Either way, it felt more like an obligation to throw your best dress on for another night of mingling with socialites. But then again, this was better than sitting at home with writer’s block. You were trying to write a fairytale of your own, but life was just so dull and uninspiring. Artists needed a muse, and you simply didn’t have one. You longed to experience romance as you did in the books you read time and time again, but alas, the same boring people did not tick all your boxes to deem worthy enough for the romance you daydreamed about.

This predicament always arose when you found yourself at these parties. Every man who you became acquainted with stayed just that — an acquaintance. Half of you wished your standards would be lower so you could finally marry and have children, but you knew in your heart that that was far from what you craved. You wanted passion, risqué rendezvous at midnight, adventure, and all the in between that the novels you spent so much time reading described, but mainly you wanted something worth writing about. Maybe then you could finish the godforsaken book you’ve been trying to write for months now.

You were trying to pay attention to a current conversation you were having with a military official who was boasting about his assets when your eyes drifted elsewhere, his bragging tone of no interest to you. You dreamed about being whisked away by a magical force to a far away land where the flowers sang along with the breeze and the rays from the sun danced on your skin. It was so sudden, but when your gaze was shifting back on the man in front of you, they caught a pair of chestnut eyes burning into you.

You looked around, not sure if they were truly set on you or not, but to your surprise, there was no one else around they could be looking at. You held the stare, your interest piquing immensely. It was like a string was tied to you because you felt a tug from behind your ribs when his gaze didn’t falter.

“Are you alright, Miss?” The man in front of you brought your attention back to him, breaking you from your hazy dream.

“Ah, yes I uh, I just need some air.” You excused yourself from the ballroom and into the garden. You took a seat on one of the benches near a rose bush, the red and pink petals shining under the night sky, the sweet scent filling the air around you. It wasn’t long before you heard a soft melody erupting from the piano that sat in the ballroom. You got up and roamed back inside to see what the commotion was all about. You lingered in the corner off to the side, watching as everyone danced and laughed while others drank and talked with voices too loud. You noticed a group of women gathered around the piano, giggles and awestruck smiles adorning their faces. As you got a bit closer, you could finally see what they were fawning over.

Sitting at the piano was a man with tousled hair the color of coffee, his sharp features focused on his slender fingers as they skillfully danced elegantly across the keys. Your breath hitched in your throat when his fingers stilled and the music stopped, silence filling the room before thunderous applause took over the atmosphere. He looked up, and you swore time itself froze.

Your eyes locked with chestnut once again, and suddenly the newly familiar tug in your chest returned, leaving you breathless.

—

“Back so soon are we?” The bookstore owner teased, smiling when seeing your embarrassment displayed on your cheeks.

“The last story was so captivating. A boy who never grew up, a magical fairy and pirates? It was an adventure I couldn’t seem to put down.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find something that lasts you a bit longer than the previous tale.” He smiled, the wrinkles etched into his aged face a comforting sight for you. You placed the small green leather bound book on the counter and began your search for a new fairytale to be entranced by. Your fingers grazed the books on the shelf lightly as you walked down the ilse, reading the titles, waiting for something to cause that initial spark that made you giddy. You stopped over a blue book with silver color bindings, your finger buzzing as it hovered over the spine. You pulled it out and opened it to sample a page. As you felt your mind begin to wander off into the fictional world you were ready to dive into, you didn’t notice the creak of the front door open and the owner greet the new customer that waltzed in shortly after you.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, it’s an honor. And what brings you into my shop?”

“I’m just looking for a light read to fill the hot days with. Any recommendations?” The man asked, and the owner hummed in response, pondering over the options.

“Well, the fantasy section might pique your interest. A good love story is perfect for the longer days of summer. It might even inspire you,” The hinting smile in his tone was obvious, but went unnoticed. The man chuckled at the old man’s words before headed towards the shelves with the recommended genre.

“I’ll have a look then, thank you.” He said with a smile. You we’re so enraptured with the words on the worn pages that you didn’t realize the presence that lingered just behind you.

“Good day, Miss,” A tenor voice from behind you brought you back to the present and away from the book in your hands. You turned around and the tug instantly returned as your eyes met with chestnut once again.

“Oh,” you stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought with the pianist from the other night, but now he was standing before you. “Good day, sir.”

“It is a good day indeed, now that my eyes have stumbled upon you again.” You felt your cheeks heat up from the sudden flirtatious advances. “I believe it is fate that brought us here to find each other again, don’t you?” The corners of his mouth turned upwards into an honest grin.

“Hm,” you contemplated playfully, noticing how his gaze never faltered from your face. “Fate indeed that the stars wanted our paths to cross once again.”

“Maybe this time I will be allowed more than a few stolen glances. Perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of knowing your name?” You clutch the novel in your hand a bit tighter, letting your name slip from your mouth carefully. You saw a small flicker of something you couldn’t quite figure out in his expression, a firm smile and kind eyes still exposed to you.

“It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.” He bowed, extending his hand out in front of you, waiting for your hand to be placed into his. Once obliging, your palms met and his rosy lips brushed lightly over the top of your hand, lingering over the warm flesh for more than what was deemed appropriate.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Kim.” You hated how your heart fluttered slightly at the delicate touch. His eyebrow shot up in surprise without his cool exterior faltering as his name fell from your mouth so easily. He wondered how you’d known. Perhaps you overheard his previous conversation with the owner.

“Please, call me Hongjoong. No need for formalities.”

“Very well then. And what brings you here, Hongjoong?” You looked back over to the shelf, pretending to nonchalantly browse the titles under your fingertips.

“Well, I play the piano, and very much enjoy writing symphonies. However, I am spending the summer away from the city to clear my head a bit. ”

“Well, Mr. Kim. You’re quite the talk of the town as of late, and I hear that you’re currently the most eligible bachelor.” You recall from all the gossip from around town that you had not stopped hearing about since the party. You learned that he had just arrived that morning and was quickly invited to play that evening.

“Is that so?” He took a step closer to you, and you felt yourself subconsciously step a fraction back, not realizing the bookcase was so close behind you. “And what do they have to say?” He was baiting you, and you knew it. Kim Hongjoong was said to be one of those men who frequented the city brothels only men of his status could afford, or he would find his way into the beds of aristocratic women that you absolutely could and would never associate yourself with. Part of you didn’t want to believe the rumors, but the way his eyes trailed your body left you unsure.

“Not much really, just how handsome you are, and how the way you play piano is a form of art all on its own.” He straightened his stance at that, a proud grin appearing across his features. But you noticed that it still seemed lacking, like the current compliment of the whole entirety of the town wasn’t enough for him or his ego.

“And what do you say?” His brow perked up inquisitively, eagerly awaiting another form of praise to drop from your lips. You lightly scoffed under your breath, just enough for him to hear it.

“I have nothing to say about you.” You simply stated matter of factly. His smile didn't fade like you’d expected it to. Instead, it only grew, like you were challenging a lion waiting to pounce.

“I see,” he hummed in response. His eyes trailed down your body, fixating on your hands that were now crossed in front of you, your fingers slightly white at how tight your grip had gotten on the borrowed book. “I see no husband accompanies you, and no band adorns your left finger. Why is a woman who possesses such beauty as yourself not wed yet?”

“Because, I have yet to find a man who has any interest in what I love most.”

“And what would that be?” You adjusted your stance in hopes this conversation would end soon, his gaze suddenly feeling patronizing. You tapped your fingers against the book in your hands and nodded knowingly. “Books, I presume?”

“Not just books, Mr. Kim, but the stories that lie within the pages. Fantasy, adventure, romance…it’s all so fascinating to me. It’s hard not to get lost in another world. Naturally, this is something I tend to fall victim to as I am a writer myself.”

“Well, I see nothing wrong with that,” he claimed, his confidence filling the air around you both. “You’re a well educated woman. Any man would aspire to have a wife with that quality.”

“I dream in rose color, Mr. Kim, and I’m afraid no man takes a woman like me seriously.” He clicked his tongue, looking around the room before leaning forward to hover his lips just above your ear.

“Not all men can handle a woman like you then, now can they.” He spoke low, his chest vibrating as his words rang in your ear and sent shivers down your spine, his breath hot against your skin. The breath you were holding in your lungs suddenly was lost as you inhaled, your senses being overwhelmed by citrus and bergamot.

“I-” you felt yourself stumble back and lose your footing, a quiet yelp escaping you. You prepared to tumble back into the shelf behind you when you felt his hand grasp the small of your back and pull you close to his chest. Instead, you found yourself crashing into the pianist, and the two of you hit the ground unceremoniously. You looked down into chestnut and swore you saw the sun when a toothy grin appeared across his face, followed by a hearty laugh. You sprung up after what felt like ages, not sure how long you lingered in his space with curious eyes trying to read him like one of your beloved novels. Once the both of you stood back up, the air turning awkward between you two, he picked the little blue book up from the floor that you hadn’t realized you’d dropped, and held it out to you.

“Careful, people may think you’re falling for me already.” You felt your features twist into a mildly disgusted expression before a very audible scoff left your lips.

“You’re…insufferable!” You pushed past him, not wanting to admit the way your heart twisted when you heard his chuckle from behind you.

“Good day, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m sure we’ll see one another again soon.” He winked, but you pretended that you didn’t see it to avoid your face from flushing more than it already was.

—

The days of summer were passing by in a blur, and you grew more frustrated that you couldn’t write a single thing without feeling mediocre, resulting in you crumpling the paper up and tossing it onto the floor. Inspiration still remained hidden from you, like a treasure you had to hunt down. Your days weren’t always bothersome though, seeing as you started seeing a certain pianist in the bookstore more frequently. You often found Hongjoong at the bookstore whenever you returned for another new read, but as the warm days came and went, you noticed he would sometimes be in the fantasy section browsing the books as if waiting for you to show up. Or, other days, he would be in the back at a little table with his brows furrowed and a pen in his hand as he scribbled treble clefs and b sharps to add to his stack of sheet music.

You tried your best to stay away, you really did. Not wanting to be the next name in everyone’s mouth, but something wouldn’t allow you to keep your distance for long. It was when he was absolutely enthralled by his work one afternoon that you felt the tug again, the invisible string pulling you towards his hunched over figure. As you approached, you cleared your throat to make your presence known.

“Ah, what a pleasant surprise to see you again!” He looked up momentarily from his jumble of ink stained papers, his hair a tousled mess and plum crescents circled underneath his puffy eyes.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

“Trust me, I tried.”

“But?” A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“Well…you frequent the one shop in town that I do, so it’s unavoidable, I suppose.” Your excuse did not fool him, but he did not say anything about it.

“I see…” he looked around the mess in front of him and stood up swiftly from the wooden chair, creaking slightly as it slid across the floor under his weight. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?” He blurted, as if the idea just came to him at that very moment. Stunned, you looked out the small window at the front of the shop and then back at him

“Hongjoong, it’s nearly sundown.”

“Perfect,” he gathered the papers and shoved them under one arm, offering the other for you to grab onto. “I’ve been wanting to show you something.”

You two walked not too far, the conversation light and easy as you strolled on his arm through town. Once you reached the edge, cobblestone soon turning to dirt and grass, you noticed a stone path leading up the hill and through a clearing of willow trees. You recall staring up at the aged trees as a little girl, always wondering what magic lied behind the swinging branches. You stopped at the first stone, your grip on his arm loosening as you allowed your arm to unhook from his.

“What is it?” He turned around with a quizzical expression on his face at the loss of your touch. His eyes met yours, concern filling his dark irises as he looked into your own.

“Nothing, it’s just I…” you trailed off, unsure if it was appropriate to engage in such private conversation with a man you hardly knew.

But that’s the thing. You simultaneously felt like you’d known him for lifetimes prior to this one, and it made your skin buzz at the possibility. The very thought confused you, yet you felt excitement lingering in your bones every time he laid eyes on you and the tug pulled you to him.

“C’mon,” he held his hand out to you, his palm inviting yours to rest in his. “Do you trust me?” You weren’t sure what exactly possessed you to place your hand in his and slowly nod as a silent confirmation that yes, you did trust him. Why? You were unsure. But something inside you told you that you were supposed to go up that hill and beyond those trees that evening. So, you allowed him to pull you along behind him as you made your way up, up, up until you reached the very top.

You felt the air get knocked from your lungs when your eyes set upon what was in front of you. A beautiful garden that lit up with fireflies, sprites dancing around the leaves of the trees as the warm evening breeze allowed the flowers to sway in time with the music of nature.

“Hongjoong, what…is this place?”

“Do you like it?” He peered over at you, the warm glow from the candles burning in their lanterns above casting the most radiate light onto your skin, your lips parting in fascination as you watched his garden come to life as the moon and her stars filled the night sky above.

This, he decided, was the purest form of beauty he’s ever seen — You adorning the moon’s elegant light upon you. He did not dare admit that he thought your beauty almost outshined mother moon’s in that moment.

“Like it? I’m captivated by it.” You couldn’t find the words, too awestruck by nature’s true beauty as it flourished and came to life in the beginning of the night.

“This is my home away from home,” he chuckled at the disbelief that had made its way onto your face. “I grew up here.” You looked just past the garden to see a large house with more windows than you’d ever seen, greenery overtaking the brick walls. You noticed that there was a metal staircase that spiraled up to meet a balcony, a beautiful stained glass window with florals depicted in the vivid colors. “Would you like to take a look around?” He tugged you along, excitement flooding your veins as you walked through the various plant life, the different scents filling your senses. From roses to peonies, marigolds and tulips. They mingled together to create this Heaven on earth as magic hung in the air around you.

You took note of the fountain in the middle, frogs ribbiting and grasshoppers chirping as the night came to life around you as you ascended up the aged metal staircase. Once utop the balcony, you ran over to the edge of the thick railing, crashing into it as you took in the whole garden from above. The wind blew your hair around your face, and Hongjoong swore his heart stopped beating in that very moment.

“It’s like a fairytale.” You whispered more to yourself, but Hongjoong caught every word of it as he leaned against the half wall with you. “Oh Hongjoong,” you sighed dreamily, your chin falling into your palm as you rested your elbow on the marble below it. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” He felt the corners of his mouth turn upward slightly, his eyes falling onto your lips, his hand clenched into a fist as he fought back the urge to press his body against yours and kiss you with everything he had. Instead, he chuckled under his breath, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, indeed it is.”

—

When the middle of summer hit, you did not ever dream of feeling this alive. Hongjoong had let you into a secret garden that opened your eyes to a world beyond the books you found yourself lost in. That alone made your heart soar, and you felt your heart flutter every time you were around him.

Small, innocent brushes of his hand against yours as you made small talk about anything and everything, feeling completely comfortable in one another’s presence once you started spending more and more time with one another. You hadn’t experienced this feeling before, but it felt like what every book you had read had described this feeling to be…but you were hesitant at first.

It wasn’t until you found yourself under the August full moon in his garden, your heart trembling as the energy in the air shifted that night. Something had changed, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly. As you popped various fruits into your mouth and drank the fizzy liquor he had brought out from the house onto the balcony to make “the perfect midnight picnic” he had claimed, you couldn’t help notice the way his eyes lingered on you for longer than usual. You saw his hands tremble ever so lightly and his features displaying a softer side to him instead of his usual charming facade. Your body was slouching back against the metal as you gazed lazily up at the twinkling stars that littered the sky, feeling completely at peace as you usually did in his presence. You heard him say your name under his breath, pulling you from whatever fantasy you’d made up in your head that evening, to see him standing inches from you. You’d noticed he had trapped your figure between his arms as he pinned you against the railing, his breath warm on your face as he inched closer, sending your heart flying manically within your rib cage.

“I-I think I’m falling in love with you…” he stuttered nervously, bluntly, shamelessly. His eyes darkened and were full of something you couldn’t understand. You felt your breath hitch, your mind fogging over in a lavender haze as you tried to dissect his words.

‘I’m falling in love with you.’ His words rang in your ears, your chest swelling uncomfortably as you responded with no thought behind your response, but more so you just allowed your intuition to guide you through the dangerous storm that was your heart, your feelings for Hongjoong that you had suppressed and refused to acknowledge because he was a player. How many other women did he confess to just to get them into bed with him? For so long, you refused to be labeled as one of them. But now, you couldn’t, wouldn’t, deny yourself and your emotions any longer. You didn’t care about the rumors, you didn’t care about his reputation. You only cared about acting on your feelings that had recently began to surface.

“Kiss me.” You requested softly. You half expected his ego to ruin the moment you reciprocated his advance, but you were surprised when his playboy exterior had not returned. Instead, if it was even possible, his eyes shined brighter than the stars above you two as an innocent smile painted itself across his face as his hands came up to cup your face sweetly. You could feel the beat of his erratic heart through his fingertips as he closed the gap between you two.

His lips on yours was absolutely electrifying, like bolts of lightning shooting through your veins and you could have sworn you heard the sky unleash a crack of thunder as the rain began to pour down onto you both. You didn’t care, even your mouths refused to seize their movements against each other as your tongues crossed one another in the most heated kiss you’d ever experienced. Both his hands clutched your face a bit tighter, pulling you deeper into him, sucking your bottom lip in between his own pair and making you dizzy.

He started backing up, taking you with him through the French doors inally and led you to the fluffy bed. He backed up into the mattress and collapsed against the warm fabric with you on top of him. You stayed like that, lips never leaving one another for hours, lazy kisses and fingertips exploring every inch of your wet skin until your lips were too swollen, and the clothing was too much to keep against your skin.

You swallowed the foreign feeling of surrender as you allowed your heart to experience the pleasure your body was. You instead focused on the way his calloused hands worked at the soaked fabric of your dress, the material slipping from your figure and to the floor, leaving you in your slip that stuck sinfully to you, leaving nothing to the imagination as the cotton fabric exposed you as if you were bare. He removed that as well in time, his jaw going slightly slack and his eyes becoming hooded once he had you naked before him. He did not dare rush, but simply wanted, needed, to take his time with you, savoring every little detail of your curves, your dips, and your edges. He felt the dam holding in his overwhelming emotions break, once your eyes locked again and he saw your smile.

He knew in that moment that he was in love with everything that was simply you.

You woke up later that night, feeling absolutely blissful after recalling how his body felt against yours for the first time, memorizing the sounds he made as he burrowed himself deep in between your legs. You felt a blush dust across your cheeks as the memories played out like a play.

You were soon drawn from your visions when you felt nothing next to you in the bed, the sheets abandoned long ago. You looked over across the room frantically, only to find him hunched over at a table, a lantern illuminating the concentration on his face as he scribbled onto tea stained paper. You watched him for a while, but it wasn’t long before he felt your eyes on him, causing him to return your gaze. He smiled tiredly, standing from the table and making his way over to you, a thin robe exposing his chest as he strode over.

“Did I wake you?”

“Not at all, I was just upset that the bed was cold.” He chuckled, his breathy laugh sending a soothing emotion through you.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to get this song out of my head…would you like to hear it?” You nodded, eyes lighting up at the thought of him playing for you. “Very well then,” he grabbed the sheet music and placed it at the grand piano just next to him, the chair squeaking under his weight as he sat down. He cracked his knuckles, shaking his hands out to loosen himself up before inhaling deeply and looking over the paper one last time before he began to play.

The room suddenly filled with so much emotion, it was nearly suffocating. Your eyes watched how his fingers strategically danced across the keys, the motions seeming so effortless as he swayed back and forth in time with each key being pressed. The melancholy melody painted the room various shades of blue and gray, the music reminding you of the midnight sky and the feeling it evoked when you longingly looked up at the stars and wished for your heart’s deepest desire. It was the sound of how it felt to talk to the moon when you prayed for your wish to come true. It was indescribable with words, but Hongjoong was able to convey every emotion lingering in the air with his fingertips.

When he stopped playing, you came back down from the cloud you’d perched yourself on top of as you lost yourself to the lullaby he had created, and you felt tears burning your eyes.

“That was lovely. You play beautifully.” You commented, voice barely there as you allowed your eyes to speak for you when words had failed you.

“Thank you,” he gathered the pages back up neatly, placing them back on the holder before reaching for the glass with a swig of amber colored liquor left in it that sat on the table. “It’s meant to portray longing. It’s an insatiable feeling that gets deeply rooted into your soul if you’re not careful. Even if you grab hold of something so tightly and never want to let go, sometimes you feel that sense of greed that you need more, even if you have the whole world at your fingertips.” You hummed in response, feeling the ache in your chest burn as you dared ask your next question.

“What was your inspiration?” His eyes finally settled on yours, a sad smile making its way onto his lips before he sighed.

“You.”

—

As the sun began to burst into bright hues of oranges and reds, painting the sky as it set for the day, you unlocked the gate that led into Hongjoong’s garden, the sprites welcoming you back once again to the fairytale you longed to escape into. As you approached the spiral stairs that took you to a land that seemed far far away from reality, there he was, the handsome prince of your summer romance, waiting for you at the top.

He was bent over the railing, a bottle of fizzy liquor half empty dangling from between his fingertips as his eyes searched the sky for something he would never say out loud. A miracle maybe, that someone would someday come sweep him away from the tower he deemed himself trapped in.

“That’s very Romeo and Juliet of you,” you laughed from the bottom of the steps, taking one of the leaves of ivy that wrapped around the railing in your finger, the leaf turning a bright green in the sun’s evening glow. You saw him shake himself from his daydream and look down upon you. He let out a breathy laugh as his eyes focused onto you and how your aura was a bright gold at this hour. Maybe this was his golden hour, you standing in his blooming garden, the butterflies and fairies dancing around you as you looked up at him like he was some kind of god that you worshiped. He pondered on the thought.

“I suppose, but why do I have to be Juliet? I’m not a damsel in distress.” You giggled under your breath as you began walking up the steps.

“Are you sure about that?” He rolled his eyes, taking a swig from the crystal bottle before extending his arm out as he waited for you to reach the top. “It’s okay, I’ll rescue you. Just don’t drink any poison before I arrive.” You reached for the bottle he gripped tightly onto but willingly gave over to you. He smiled, a kind of stoic look appearing on his face.

“I can’t make any promises,” he sheepishly grinned as his eyes diverted down to the bottle in his hand. Your heart trembled at the way his words rang with a hint of truth and a cry for help with how his eyes flickered with a hint of sadness, but that was something you would address another day perhaps.

He held the door open for you to enter, the last beams of the sun’s light shining through the stained glass and creating a rainbow of color on the walls.

“I’m only kidding, you know.” he made sure to assure you, you not noticing that he could see the sudden panic in your eyes as you approached him. He walked past you and collapsed onto the bed, a weight filling the air that suddenly caused you to follow suit. You crawled on top of the duvet next to him, waiting for him to open the door to his secret wonderland once more. His head hit the pillow, eyes looking up at the ceiling, hands laying flat on his chest. “I just…” he sighed, trying to find the words while seeking out the courage to let you through the door to his heart. He reached over and pulled you to him, his head rolling to the side to rest his lips against your temple. You were soon thankful for him closing the space between you.

You tiptoed around Hongjoong, like trying not to scare a fawn away. That was your biggest fear — losing him. But when the warmth of his lips met your burning skin, the thought of him running away vanished quicker than it had arrived.

“So when do I get to read one of your stories?” He questioned, eyebrows wiggling teasingly. You groaned at the thought as you tried to forget that you had not picked up a pen to write since you started seeing Hongjoong more.

“I don’t have anything to show you, unfortunately.”

“That’s alright. Maybe you just need a little inspiration.”

“That’s exactly what I need. It’s not easy to come by when you’re surrounded by the same things and people everyday. There’s just nothing to write about.”

“There’s enough gossip floating around town that you could find something to write about, I’m sure.” You hummed in response, the air in the room falling into a comfortable silence before he spoke again, much more softly this time. “They’re not true you know...”

“Hm?” You turned to the side, your eyes focused on the shape of his mouth as he spoke.

“The rumors,” he deadpanned, the words not easily slipping from his tongue. His jaw clenched slightly, and you knew you were approaching something touchy, but if he allowed it, you would slowly walk towards that door he was willing to open for you.

“What do you mean?” An exasperated sigh fell from his lips, but you knew it wasn’t directed towards you.

“I’m sure you’ve heard them by now, just like everybody else. ‘Artist Kim Hongjoong, the playboy, makes his rounds into a different bed every night.’ ‘Pianist Kim Hongjoong was seen leaving the brothel once again.’” He trailed off, the annoyance seeping into his tone.

“You can’t truly believe that anyone believes that about you.” You supplied, but you knew Hongjoong wasn’t buying it when he let out a cold laugh.

“Clearly you haven’t been around town lately.” Even though you knew it wasn’t supposed to be a jab, you could feel the knife pierce your skin with the way he spoke his words with a hint of venom laced between each letter. “Besides, I’ve tried time and time again to save my image, I really have. I don’t know how it even started...” he paused, feeling frustrated, with hurt taking over his soft features, hardening him like a shell that wouldn’t crack. “It’s like, if I pretend I don’t hear what they say, it’ll all go away if I ignore it long enough. I’ll forget about it and move on. But you don’t see the way people look at me…maybe I’m not cut out to be in the spotlight. Maybe I should just stop playing and-” You sat up and took his hands in yours, your heart beginning to jump within your chest like a wild rabbit.

“That’s nonsense, and you know it.” You urged, your words beginning to get stuck in your throat. “You’re too talented to let this dream go. You’re already so loved here, who knows how far your music could take you.” You rubbed circles with your thumbs into the top of his hands, your eyes refusing to meet his own. “Please…don’t. Hold onto it…so tightly, even if it suffocates you. Don’t let anyone or anything take it away from you.” The desperation leaked from your voice, and you weren’t sure if you were referring to his music or yourself, but with the way he pulled you closer to his chest, you knew he wasn’t sure either.

You wouldn’t push him to say more, and Hongjoong was silently thankful for that. The words you both didn’t want to speak were dangling threateningly over both your heads the closer Autumn became. You both knew the end of the summer was your doomed fate, but neither of you dared to speak of it. You simply pushed it away from reality instead, allowing yourselves the peace of existing in a garden of mystical creatures and fireflies as the long days blurred into shorter nights. Every moment spent together was filled with glitter and magic, and every bit of fantasy you could ever ask for. You wanted to be his, gods, did you so desperately want to be his, but you would rather have this little piece of him that he offered to you willingly, than nothing at all.

The little fragments of himself that he chose to share with you were so precious, whether that be a tender kiss to your temple as a silent confession, or when he stayed up until the sun woke up and the dew covered the gardens outside to write something beautiful just for your ears to hear later that night. You never asked for anything, but were grateful when he let you into his inner world, a place you knew no one but him was allowed to explore, reside or dwell in.

There were days you would just lay together, no words exchanged between the two of you, just the steady beating of your hearts. Those were the days you laid in bed waiting for the sun to set so it would welcome the moon and her stars into the sky, the air filled with laughter and sweet nothings being whispered onto sticky skin. Once the stars littered the sky, soft whimpers and gasps would fill the hazy atmosphere when fingertips grazed sensitive spots on exposed skin, when kisses were slow and drawn out, lazy but intentional. Swollen champagne lips and strawberry kisses melted into burning flesh that craved to be touched, to be loved. Ignoring the empty liquor bottles that littered the floor from the days you were not there fueled a new fire within you.

You felt the need to save him from everything that plagued him, a need to save him from himself, but you didn’t even know what this was between the two of you, let alone know if he even wanted to be saved. But, as the days blurred together like your vision when tears formed in your eyes when the sun was too bright in the early afternoon, you realized it would be harder and harder to stay away from him. All of you wished for it, but you knew both of you didn’t have the strength to comply with that, nor would you ever ask that of him. So, with a heavy heart, you decided that wanting was enough.

For you, it was enough.

—

As the cool September breeze rolled through the open window and past the sheer curtains, you let your eyes wander around the space you began to think of as home, reflecting on the summer days that had passed by in such a blur. You saw the wind chimes that played a symphony of their own, the large weeping willow tree just outside the window knocking into the stained glass harmonizing with the clanking metal. You saw the way the birds flew around, singing the beautiful lyrics of nature, the grasshoppers playing their legs like a violin as butterflies fluttered around in a synchronized dance with the fireflies.

Your eyes finally landed on Hongjoong’s ethereal figure next to you. Some strands of his hair stuck to his forehead as his chest rose and fell to steady his erratic heartbeat underneath his rib cage. Your gaze trailed down his bare chest, the smooth skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The delicate sheet draped just over his lower half, his hip bone peaking out slightly. One arm was stretched behind his head for support as he laid there with his fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck with his eyes closed.

His other hand trailed along the soft skin on your back, both of you bare and exposed to the walls surrounding you. Paintings you had created together when the air was sticky and the fruit he brought from the garden was sticky sweet, hung on any available space, making each wall feel cluttered, but it was how Hongjoong liked it.

All you, always. Compressed into an overwhelming suffocation. It was beautiful and made it hard for him to breathe in the most intoxicating way.

Your attention was brought back to the moment when you heard him exhale contently and felt the sheets rustle next to you, his front now nuzzling into your side. You felt the tip of his nose graze across your skin, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a content sigh.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he admitted into your sticky flesh, his hand coming up to caress the exposed breast that was uncovered from the sheet. Your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his mouth place wet kisses onto the mound of flesh that adorned your chest, his lips taking your nipple in slowly as he let his tongue rile the bud up. You sighed, feeling a wave of arousal crash into you.

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered breathily, the air surrounding you warming up as you felt the disbelieving and honest chuckle rumble from within his chest, as if he couldn’t believe you’d tasked him with something as easy as breathing. “I want to hear you say it again,” His mouth came off of you with a pop as he looked at you through his thick lashes. He laid his head across your chest, his ear pressed just above where your heart was wildly beating like thunder during a vicious storm.

“I love you,” he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, not letting the fondness in your eyes go unnoticed. “I love you with everything that one human could possibly give to another.” He rubbed his thumb lightly across your cheek, a small smile forming across his lips as he stared at you. “I love you earnestly, passionately, and irrevocably so.” He paused, lifting his hand to cup your cheek lovingly. He scooted up, putting his arm over your abdomen and supporting himself up. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, and soon was dipping down to press a lingering kiss to your lips before continuing. “I would willingly give myself to you in any way you wish to have me.” You felt the blush dust across your cheeks at his words, as if pulled from one of your favorite novels.

“I must admit,” you propped your head up with your chin on your forearm, eyes lazily looking into his as he laid back down beside you to get a straight on view of your features. He swore he would never tire of the sight before him. “I feel the same way.” He chuckled in response, his hand going to the back of your head as he used his fingers to comb through your hair.

“I would sure hope so. If you didn’t, I would be questioning your motives.” He joked, his smile spreading when you rolled your eyes and laughed under your breath.

“I’m serious! I have never loved another this way, nor do I ever want to.” Your eyes became glassy when you saw the sun shine in his own, the sunset painting an array of hues across his porcelain skin. His other hand reached down to grab yours, his lips pressing feather light kisses to each fingertip, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so, his gaze growing serious and intense. A shiver made its way down your spine in response to his affection.

“Would you die for me?” His lips stilled on your skin, waiting for your response. You could feel his hummingbird heart about to take flight in his chest the longer you let the air between the two of you stay silent.

“Of course.” You simply said, the words easily leaving your swollen lips to your own surprise. You weren’t sure when that had become an absolute truth in your heart, and you didn’t want to ponder on the thought for too long. “You’ll be the one to kill me in the end, anyway.”

“‘You say I killed you, so haunt me then.’” Your eyes darted up at him, a knowing smile making its way across his face.

“I didn’t know you read Brontë.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he lightly traced patterns into your back, your head falling back onto his chest. “But I’d like to change that.” Next thing you know he is hovering back over you, his intense irises locked on yours. His strong arms pulled you into his embrace, the stickiness on his skin from your previous endeavors heating up under your touch like lava. He reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out three matching black satin ties and sitting up straight above you so he could see the entirety of you. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You stated firmly, but you didn’t know if the answer was for him or yourself. He smiled, his eyes softening at the mere sight of your body underneath his, the sheet long gone from both of your bodies.

“Good. I want to make sure you never forget me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Your eyes stared holes into his face, the passion burning your veins and begging for him to touch you. Your skin tingled, blood red hot and buzzing with adrenaline when he took your wrists in his hands and began tying a knot. Once your wrists were bound together, he sat you up straight and gathered your luscious hair into a messy pony, wrapping the second piece of satin around the bundled up hair. Some strands fell back onto your face, but he did not seem to mind. He finally held the third piece in his hands, reaching behind your head and covering your eyes.

“Are you alright?” He inquired, goosebumps forming across your skin as you felt his breath ghost along your ear. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, feeling your scorching blood running thickly through your body, acutely more aware of everything around you now that you had lost your vision.

“Good,” you felt his fingers ever so lightly brush along you, shoved after shiver rippling through your body, your core beginning to dampen the bedding underneath you. You felt his breath hovering over your lips, and you so desperately wanted him to close the small space that separated your lips from his. Like he read your mind, he nipped at your lower lip, his tongue quickly swiping over it and backing away as you tried chasing his lips with your own. A disgruntled groan left you, the frustration only building the more he did it.

“Please Hongjoong, ” You whined, feeling the tension in your abdomen twist every second he denied you the touch of his lips. You felt your core tingle as his hands traveled over your body, but never really touching you. But you could feel the energy from his palms vibrating every atom within you. You leaned forward and were met with nothing, a frustrated whine slipping from your lips. You heard him chuckle, and it wasn’t long before his lips were crashing into yours feverently. You had never wanted your hands to be free more than you did in this moment. You had not realized how deprived you would feel restrained under his strong hold on your wrists as his mouth consumed yours. You needed to card your fingers through his hair, you needed to feel his muscles under your fingertips, you needed to touch.

“I want you…�� He panted into your mouth, his length hardening against you as he subconsciously began to grind on you. “So. Bad.”

“Take me, for I am yours.” You pleaded, against his rushed kisses, your tongues waltzing with one another as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing firmly into yours. “Only yours.” You sighed into his lips, and you heard a small moan leave his own.

You felt him grab your wrists and bring your arms up over your head, the tie in your hair loosening and soon your hair fell around you as he removed the strip of satin. You could hear Hongjoong working above you, and soon felt his grip on you leave, but your arms were still suspended above you. Your abdomen swirled with excitement as you realized he had tied you to the iron bed frame to keep you in place.

You shuddered when you felt his breath back on your skin, this time it was much, much lower than before. His hot breath was blowing against your clit, causing you to writhe at the immediate sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to taste you on my tongue.” You felt his nose brush along the sensitive skin near your folds. It disappeared just as quickly as it had come, but not without a deep sigh leaving him first as he took in the very sight before him. Your trembling figure above him, your dripping cunt waiting to clench onto something, your throbbing clit wishing to be abused.

“To devour you, is my most absolute desire in this world.” He growled against the inside of your thigh, lightly nipping his way towards your heat once more. He suddenly licked a stripe up your center, your back arching instantly as you felt the air being ripped straight from your lungs, a gasp falling from your lips. The moan that exited his lungs was feral, and was now something you craved to pull out of his chest. Again, and again, and again.

“No wine, no champagne, nor any fruit could ever taste as delectably addictive than you do, my love.” He said as he licked his way around your sex, making sure every drop of arousal that dropped from your awaiting pussy was cleaned up before he made an even bigger mess of you.

He reached up and pressed two fingers against your lips, encouraging you to allow him entrance into your mouth. You allowed it, your tongue obsessively coating his digits with your saliva, sucking hard and needy. You heard a groan come from him, his dick twitching in anticipation at the feeling of your mouth on his fingers. He pulled them out and dipped back down, slowly sliding them into your soaked cunt, your walls inviting him in. You couldn’t suppress the noises that begged to leave your mouth as he reached a hand up and pressed down against your stomach, pumping his fingers in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Hongjoong, I-I need it faster,” you panted and begged into the air, the itch to grab a fistful of his hair so strong in your fingertips it felt like an ache. At your request, his fingers plunged deeper and at a quicker pace, his fingers curling inside to feel the spongy wall he was looking for.

“I want to make you see stars brighter than the ones outside that window as you cum for me, pretty baby.” He confessed into your core as his tongue flicked against your clit, waiting for your release and the floodgates to open onto his awaiting tongue.

“I can’t, I can’t hold on,” you jumbled, your eyes rolling behind the blindfold as you squeezed your hands together like you were in prayer.

“Let go, my love.” He cooed, his honey voice making you melt under his words.

One.

Two.

Three.

You counted the amount of flicks to your swollen bud and until you were gushing around him, your slick running down the base of his fingers, your back arching like your body was possessed, the desperate moans escaping you as you felt liquid hot and completely on fire, everything going numb and your body exploding like a shooting star under his touch, the pressure of his hand on your stomach becoming overwhelming as he pressed down.

Your ears rang, you felt the earth spinning and you tried catching the stolen breath to return it to your lungs as you laid there, arms exhausted from hanging above you.

“We’re not done yet, darling.” He purred, coming up to you and removing your blindfold so you could watch him put his fingers into his mouth, slurping up the slick that had coated his hand. You felt another tug in your gut and the familiar warmth returned to your core as he used the rest of it to coat his dick and stroke his length lazily, his eyes blown out completely and hooded as they bore into your sparkling skin.

“I need more,” you pleaded weakly, the emptiness your felt while your walls clenched at nothing, waiting for something to grip onto. “I need you. Please Hongjoong, I need you.”

“You have me, love. I’m right here.” He grabbed your arms and untied you from the iron, your wrists still bound together. He draped your arms around his neck before positioning you over his throbbing member.

“Now,” he held your hips firmly in place just above him. You could feel his leaking tip barely touch your entrance, a string of precum connecting to you. “take what you want from me.” He sucked your earlobe into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing the cartilage as you sunk down onto his length. You did not need time to adjust to him, your heat consuming his length effortlessly. Your rigid walls sent a shiver down his spine, the shock of your sex tightly encasing him in a safe hug brought him to near tears as he released your lobe and tilted his head back, a guttural moan shamelessly slipping from between his swollen lips.

Your lips found his adams apple, it vibrated under your touch as you began to bounce slowly on top of him, grinding your hips in a circular motion against him. The lewd sound of your skin smacking against one another, the squelching when his member was pulled completely out and thrusted right back into your hole, your slick pooling out of any available space it could. His hands gripped your hips as he guided you to rock back and forth, his face dipping down in between your bouncing breasts as you moved in rhythm with his heartbeat.

His nails dug into the sensitive flesh of your hips as he bucked his hips upward to meet your thrusts. The pace you had set was much too slow for his liking, but he didn’t want this moment to end so soon, the warmth beginning to build up in his abdomen. As your hips rocked and your body shook with each jab his dick made into your spongy wall inside of you, a waterfall of gasps and moans poured from your lungs, the stars in the night sky filling your vision completely with their dazzling light.

“Baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” he panted into your neck, his own whines and moans filling the space between you in the most beautifully erotic way.

“Hongjoong, I-oh,” As you both released everything you possibly could while flying through the galaxy behind your eyes, it was like a nebula of stars bursting inside of your chest, forming new constellations just for him. All the love you could ever imagine giving to someone was bursting at the seams and overflowing from your skin. It was all consuming, and you knew you would never recover from this.

Hongjoong was your undoing.

Satiated, he collapsed on top of you, all of his weight melting into your body as you laid there. His member softened inside your walls, still holding onto his member desperately as you were his body on top of you. You felt his hand slide up your arm and untie the satin that kept your wrists bound in place so you could finally relax the aching muscles against him. You finally were able to run your fingers through his damp hair, your lips planting themselves onto his temple as he laid there breathing heavily.

“I love you…so much.” Your voice broke, barely above a whisper, hot tears falling from your tired eyes as you took in the comforting citrus and bergamot you’d come so accustomed to over the summer. Now that autumn was here, you were sure you had fallen just as the leaves on the trees that laid beyond the walls you resided in had. It was inevitable, unavoidable, and almost felt fated.

“You’re everything to me,” he pressed his lips to your pulse point on your neck, lingering there as he took in your sweet scent and committed it to memory.

“Everything.”

—

Once the leaves darkened and began to fall from their branches, the air cooling and the days getting shorter, you knew it was time for Hongjoong to go back to the city.

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his warm hands taking yours and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. The arriving carriage outside to take him was confirmation that your time with him was truly up.

“I’ll tell you all about the fairytales I write, but only if you promise to write a song for me.”

“Oh my love,” he cupped your face, eyes softening with tears brimming and threatening to spill. “You’re my muse…the reason I will continue to write from every day on. Everything I do is all for you now.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me? Tell me this isn’t goodbye…” he brought you into his embrace, the autumn breeze sending a chill through you. His warmth surrounded you as his cheek pressed into the top of your head as he held you.

“This isn’t goodbye…” He adorned a sad smile on his face as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Besides, how am I going to marry you if I never return?”

“What…?” You pulled back a little so his face came into view, your heart freezing over as his words embedded themselves into your soul.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question, which sent your heart soaring through the clouds above. “When I come back, I want to take you away. We can travel the world, see the stars from anywhere you wish. Just as long as I’m with you.” He gulped, his eyes turning glassy at the sight of you. “I can’t bear to live a life without you in it...So please, wait for me. I won’t be gone long.”

“Oh, Hongjoong…I-”

“Do you trust me?” His eyes bore into yours, nothing but absolute infatuation and devotion swimming in his chestnut irises, erasing any doubt you had lingering in your heart. You closed your eyes and leaned back into him, allowing his embrace to tighten over you once more. You allowed your senses to fill with his intoxicating citrus and bergamot before a sigh fell from your lips.

“Always.”

—

That evening, you sat by your window with fresh pages and a new pen in your lap, ready to finally write. As you replayed every memory, every touch, every whispered confession from this summer, you felt a sense of ease wash over you when you realized that you had now found your muse.

You took a sip of the tea you had made, placing the tea cup on the sill as you gazed up into the night sky. Even if he wasn’t with you, you sought comfort in the way you could feel in every bone in your body that you were under the same sky, illuminated by the same glittering stars.

As you found yourself humming the lullaby he played for you that one august morning after you had shared another sleepless night between his alabaster sheets, you lazily looked up at the stars above, chin resting on the palm of your hand as the fireflies danced for you like they did when Hongjoong was there. You felt the familiar tug you’d grown used to over the summer pull at the strings that held your heart in place.

You couldn’t help but wonder he was looking up at the moon and thinking of you too. Another tug in your chest was felt as the thought floated around your headspace. A small smile formed across your features as you nuzzled deeper into the cushion on the sill, eyes filling with tears as your heart sang.

Yes, he most certainly was.

#ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez hongjoong

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 3 months

Text

Boston Bears: Off-Limits - Rugby Player!Chris x Reader (Part 3)

Summary: Despite Chris telling you to back off there's undeniable chemistry that both of you are struggling to ignore

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! Language! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! Masturbation! SMUT! 18 + ONLY! MINORS DNI!

Rugby Explained

Dividers by Me!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 3

You let out a long sigh as you shimmied into the 5th bridesmaid dress that Tommi had sent over to you to try on. Once it was mostly up you grabbed the string you had attached to the zipper and pulled it up to zip yourself in, a little trick you’d learnt after living alone for a few years. You then stepped back into the view of Tommi who was watching through your laptop screen.

“Hmm I don’t think I like that one as much as the others, the neckline doesn’t look quite right” she hummed as she assessed the dress.

“Yeah I’ve never been a fan of strapless” you added as you tugged the bodice of the dress up higher “This dress does make my ass look good though” you smirked, twisting to show off all the work the dress was doing.

“You can say that again” Tommi whistled “Still doesn’t beat dress number 3 though”

“Yeah same, that one’s my favourite” you agreed “How many more are there?” you asked glancing over to the large box which she’d sent over to you containing all the different dresses.

“Just two more” Tommi answered “I know 7 is a little overkill but I just wanted you to have a dress you definitely liked, especially as my maid of honour”

“Yeah, yeah I know it's okay” you sighed tiredly, scratching your forehead “So is this going in the no pile?” you asked dropping your arm to gesture at the dress you were currently wearing.

“Yeah let's ditch that one” Tommi confirmed with a nod of her head.

You let out another long tired sigh before stepping away to undress and put on the 6th dress.

“Hey is everything okay? We can call it a day if you wanna?” you heard Tommi call out.

You shook your head and stepped back into frame “Nah it’s alright, just been a long week that’s all”

“It’s Wednesday” Tommi frowned.

“Exactly a long ass week” you grumbled as you step back, take off the dress and toss it into the no pile with the 4 other dresses.

“Not as fun working with your dad as you thought?” Tommi asked as you changed into the sixth dress.

“No it’s not that,” you said zipping up the dress and stepping back into the frame “Chris has just a bit… I dunno…”

“A dick? Asshole?” Tommi supplied making you shake your head.

“No, not really, a bit dickish but not majorly” you defended.

Tommi frowns “Right… so what’s happened since Sunday and now?” she asked.

“Well apparently he didn’t realise I was the coach’s daughter, got all pissed that I’d hidden it from him” you explained.

“Did you?” Tommi frowned.

“No, well I didn’t outright tell him who my dad was because there wasn’t really the opportunity but I gave him enough to connect the dots, I assumed he already knew” you explained with a shrug of your shoulders “Yeah I should have probably made it clearer but who cares who my dad is? We’re grown adults!”

Tommi nodded “What else did he say?”

“That he wouldn’t have slept with me if he’d known, all because my dad said no one on the team is allowed to date me” you sighed.

Tommi took a deep breath as she nodded her head slowly “Well… at least you cut it off before it got any further, one time can be played as a mistake” you just hummed in response, not quite willing to admit that you still offered him more “wait, what did that hum mean?” Tommi asked and you cursed under your breath.

“Can you stop it with your empath vibe checker thing” you groaned in annoyance rolling your eyes.

“It’s not that, I’m just know you too well, so c’mon get it out otherwise it’ll just fester,” Tommi said with a knowing look.

You let out a long sigh as you repositioned your laptop so you could sit down on your bed “All I did was point out that my dad said no dating, and casual sex isn’t dating”

“No but it’ll get messy if you keep seeing him, I’m sorry but I agree with Chris on this one, you need to move on a find someone else” Tommi said gently.

“I know but fuck I just can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about him, it's like I’ve got this itch that only he can scratch” you explained.

“I think you might need to get that checked out” Tommi smirked pulling a snort of laughter from you.

“You know what I mean, there’s just something there like a magnetic force that keeps pulling me in and I know I shouldn’t but the words were just out of my mouth before I could stop it” you told her.

“I get that” Tommi nodded “but maybe you just need to find someone else to scratch that itch, someone where the possibility of it blowing up in your face is smaller” she suggested.

“Yeah, the team are playing at home again this weekend so I could probably find someone after the match again” you hummed as your fingers mindlessly fidgeted in your lap “It's just… I think what my mind keeps coming back to and part of why I feel that pull is the way Chris has behaved suggests he’s a really good guy”

“Even though he was a bit of a dick after he found out?” Tommi frowned.

“Yeah, but it must have been a bit of a shock to find that out so it’s gonna be justified, and you know he cares about what my dad thinks, anyone else who was a dick wouldn’t have cared, he does” you explained “which just makes me think it might not blow up in my face”

“Yeah… that is true but it still might and even if you did end things amicably there’s still gonna be that awkwardness and do you really wanna risk that?” Tommi said with a gentle sigh “Look I think right now you just need to focus on you, and your job and just be happy with yourself, do what you want”

“Yeah maybe you’re right” you admitted despite it feeling so, so wrong, especially since what you wanted was Chris.

“You’ll find someone else, someone who’s not a dick and isn’t gonna cause unnecessary drama,” Tommi said with a reassuring smile.

You nodded “Thanks Tommi,” you said before standing back up “This dress is a definite no, it digs in when you sit down and while I plan to do a lot of dancing at your wedding, I can not not sit down”

Tommi let out a loud laugh nodding her head “Okay, another one for the no pile, so unless number Seven is a miracle dress, number three it is”

“They do say three is the magic number” you winked making Tommi laugh even louder.

Like predicted dress number three was the winner so you packed the rest back into the box ready to be shipped back to Tommi so she could return them. The two of you then ended up spending another hour or so catching up, talking a little more about the wedding before you finally had to call it a night.

You felt exhausted when you climbed into bed. Today’s training session hadn’t gone well at all, all the players were playing well individually but their cohesion was gone. They were a completely different team than what you saw on Saturday. It meant more minor injuries were cropping up like jarred fingers that needed strapping.

Chris seemed to be the worst though as he missed countless number of passes and tackles, it was like his mind was switching off periodically. Part of you wondered and maybe hoped it was because of you. That maybe you were on his mind just like he was on yours. Another part of you was worried if that was the case because Chris was right about needing to focus on the Championship.

Despite how tired you were you just couldn’t get comfortable and your mind just wouldn’t turn off. Chris was once again on your mind, first you were just revisiting the encounters you had and wondering how you could have played them differently. Which then turned into daydreams about what you’d do and say if something similar happened again, which just turned into straight-up fantasies.

Fantasies like what if Chris had taken you up on that offer in the medical room. Would he have bent you over the medical bed and taken you from behind? Or would he have lifted you up onto the counter and taken you there? You honestly couldn’t decide which you’d want more.

If he took you from behind you’d feel his hips slapping against your ass, he could take full advantage of your ass, grab it, spank it. He could wrap his hand around your hair, tugging it, pulling you back to make the angle even more delicious.

If he took you on the counter though, he’d have full access to your chest again. Your top would be ripped off as soon as possible, your bra discarded too. One hand could grip your hip to keep you where he wanted, the other would be massaging and squeezing your breast. His callused fingertips playing with your peak, pinching and twisting. He’d give your other breast equal attention with his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to pull you to your peak.

You could feel the heat pooling at your core at just the thought of Chris. You tried to just think it away and not scratch that itch but it was impossible. Soon enough your hand slipped under your sleep shorts and you felt just how turned on you were just at the thought of him. You couldn’t recall a time you’d been this turned on at the thought of someone.

Just the feeling of your fingertips running up and down your core brought relief while also making the pressure ten times more intense. You increased the pressure, bringing your fingers up to your clit, swirling them around the sensitive nub, gasping when you pinched it between your fingers.

Feeling the needy ache inside you, you slipped your fingers down to your entrance, biting your lip to hide a moan when you slipped your fingers inside yourself. You knew almost immediately your fingers alone would not be enough. You gave yourself a few pumps, pressing the heel of your palm against your clit but it just wasn’t enough. You needed the thickness of Chris’ fingers, the thickness of his cock.

In desperation you grabbed your vibrator from your drawer. Your shorts thrown haphazardly across the room to give you more room to work with. You instantly turned it on and pressed it against your core, a moaning curse escaping your lips. The memory of Chris doing the exact same thing played in your mind, the way he teased you and made you beg.

The memory alone meant you were precariously close to the edge when you finally pushed the vibrator inside. Usually, you found yourself still having to work yourself up, only ever finding your peak with the highest setting, but just the thought of Chris had you nearly coming on the lowest.

You wanted to find relief, but you needed this to last longer. You took a couple of calming breaths, bringing yourself back down from that cliff edge. When you felt ready again you began playing with yourself once more, hands roaming over your body.

Your mind kept coming back to Chris which just made your need even more intense. So much so that even though you wanted to pace yourself you turned up your vibrator to a higher setting, a loud moan escaping your lips when you did so.

Not knowing how thin your walls were and not wanting to disturb your neighbours you rolled over onto your stomach so your pillow could muffle your moans. The new position did wonders as you then pictured Chris taking you like this, the way his weight would push you down into the mattress as he pounded you from behind.

Your hips instinctively bucked up off the mattress as if he was there, as if you were moving to meet his thrusts. Your fantasy was so vivid it was like you could feel his presence in the room, smell his aftershave in the air.

You moved up onto your knees, head still against the pillow as you picture him lifting your hips up. His fingers leaving marks on your hips as he gripped onto you. You once again turned up the intensity of your vibrator, your whole body moving as you pumped it inside you, chanting Chris’ name like a prayer. The chanting became a scream when you hit your peak, the noise drowned out as you buried your head in your pillow.

Your legs felt weak so you rolled back onto your back, your chest heaving as you came down from your high, the vibrator still buzzing inside you. The image of Chris hitting his own peak flashed through your mind. The moan that escaped his lips, the blissed-out look on his face. You were caught by surprise when a second orgasm rolled through your body just because of the mental image of Chris hitting his peak.

When you finally recovered you quickly turned your vibrator off and set it aside. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You had never had an experience like that on your own, never been able to give yourself two orgasms. You knew it was all because you were picturing and wanting Chris.

Even though you agreed with Tommi that pursuing something with him could lead to disaster, you knew that even if you did find someone else you’d be comparing them to Chris and it would just lead to disappointment. Chris had officially ruined you.

Chris was screwed. So, so screwed. All week he’d been off his game, at first he could blame it on his sore leg holding him back but thanks to your stretches that was sorted by Tuesday. He had no excuse for the rest of the week.

In the gym sessions, he wasn’t able to work at his usual level, benching far below his average. When he got questioned on it he just lied and said he was playing it safe this week. When truthfully he wasn’t physically able to lift any heavier.

In training sessions when they went over drills he wasn’t able to hit as hard or take as many hits. His passes were slow or off target leaving the rest of the team to pick up the pieces. He could see the frustration on their faces when they had to scramble to collect the ball, he understood how they were feeling because he was feeling it too.

He tried everything he could to get his head back in the game. He stayed late in training sessions, running drills solo. He tried meditating to clear his mind but it was impossible because there was always one thing on his mind.

You.

Even when he didn’t see you at training you would find a way back into his mind. His mind kept going back to when he confronted you in the medical room and despite how pissed he was he was one move away from initiating round two. Your offer replayed in his mind, reminding him of the loophole, tempting him.

He couldn’t give in to temptation though. There was too much on the line for that. Every time he considered it he just told himself that he needed a release. It was worse at night when the world was quiet and his brain could get loud. So every night he found himself jerking off to give him that release he was clearly craving. He’d try not to picture you but it was near impossible, each time he’d picture a new fantasy each one getting more vivid and intense than the last. So much so that last night even after he brought himself to orgasm he still felt the intense need for release.

He just hoped that on gameday everything would click back into place and he could focus on the game. As he walked into the stadium he followed his usual pre-game routine. He had his headphones in, head down as he walked through the corridors to the changing room, ignoring the photographer who was capturing the team's arrival.

In the changing room, he kept to himself as he changed into his kit. He was lucky that he was even picked to play following his awful performance, he hoped that it was because Coach Y/L/N still believed in him and not because he wanted to lie about an injury during training.

Once he was ready he just sat in his cubby and mentally ran through drills, picturing the Chicago Knights recalling all their weaknesses he’d noticed during analysis sessions. As the rest of the team arrived he gave them small nods of greeting before returning his mind back to the game ahead.

When it was time to go out onto the field he felt more confident than he did this morning. He had yet to see you though which he worried was the reason why. He knew he’d regret it but when he walked out onto the pitch he glanced over to the bench and that’s when he saw you talking with the other medics. He managed to catch your eye, he watched as you studied him for a moment with an unreadable expression on your face before returning your attention back to your conversation.

Your complete dismissal of him left a strange feeling in his stomach. He was fighting the urge to walk over and say something. He didn’t know what he wanted to say but he just knew he wanted to be next to you. Thankfully he was snapped out of that train of thought when Ari slapped him hard on the shoulder.

The confidence Chris had built was all but gone when they started warm-ups and drills. He wasn’t playing as bad as he had during the week but he wasn’t playing well at all. When he went aside to practice his kicks his accuracy was completely shot. Angles that he usually found easy were now near impossible and he could hear the murmurings of the crowd behind him.

When warm-ups were done the team gathered for their usual huddle. While the coaches gave their usual talks Chris worked on emptying his mind, so much so that he didn’t notice it was his turn to talk until Jensen patted his shoulder to get his attention.

“Sorry” Chris muttered shaking his head “We’ve had a tough week, all of us, some more than others, but we need to put that behind us and focus on the here and now” Chris started looking around at the team “we beat the knights earlier this season on their turf, we can beat them again on ours, think positively and think clearly, they’ve got something to prove so they’re gonna hit us hard so be prepared, we can win this and we will win this,” he said trying to convince himself more than anything.

Thankfully the team didn’t seem to notice his lack of confidence as they nodded along and did their usual cheer in confirmation before heading back into the changing rooms ready to start the match. As Chris followed behind them he once again spared a glance in your direction, you met his gaze once more but instead of looking away, you gave him the smallest of nods. Chris was surprised to feel it settle him slightly, he didn’t allow himself to think about it though as he shook his head and walked back through the tunnel.

Any confidence Chris had that the team were gonna win this match was shredded pretty quickly into the first half and it was all Chris’ fault. The other players were playing well, they’d taken what he said on board and put everything behind them, it was him who was letting them down.

He missed so many passes, fumbled the ball and knocked it on. So far almost all the penalties in the game were because of his mistakes. At one point he seemed to almost completely switch off and missed a tackle allowing the knights to break free, if it wasn’t for Johnny’s speed and tap tackle they would have scored.

He was bringing the team down with him, any play he tried to make was the wrong call. He was making poor choices and the scoreboard reflected that. All he could hear was the crowd complaining whenever something went wrong.

Needless to say, Coach Y/L/N was not impressed when it was finally half-time and the team made their way back into the changing rooms. Chris had only just sat down in his cubby when the coach marched in, a look of thunder on his face.

“What the hell is going on out there Evans!” he demanded.

Chris tried to find a reason to explain it all but he couldn’t so he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head “I-I dunno coach, I’m sorry… I think I’m just in my head” he apologised.

“It’s not good enough Evans! You’re off for the rest of the match, Levinson you’re captain for the second half” Coach Y/L/N ordered.

“Yes sir” Ari muttered glancing over at Chris whose jaw had dropped.

“No sir I’m fine! I’ll play better I promise” Chris reasoned not liking that he was being dropped mid-game.

“You’re lucky you even played today Evans and you know it!” Coach snapped “We need to win this match and then we have a two-week break, use that time to get your head on straight, I don’t care how you do it, just sort it out”

Chris let out a defeated sigh and nodded his head “Yes sir”.

Chris zoned out for the rest of the team talk, just shrugging on his jacket to keep him warm just in case he needed to go back on. He doubted it though, the only reason he’d go back on now was if there were enough injuries that the coach had no choice.

Once half-time was over Chris followed the rest of the team back out, except he took a turn to sit down on the bench instead of following them onto the pitch. He let out a long sigh as he sat down he glanced over to the side and saw you stood with the other medics ready to run on at a moment's notice. Chris instantly shifted in his seat knowing you were now only a short distance away from him. This was gonna be a long second half.

You usually watched a match pretty intensely because you had to spot when a player was stubbornly trying to play on when really they needed some medical attention. But today you refused to take your eyes on the pitch unless you absolutely had to. Mostly because all you could feel was Chris’ eyes on your back and you didn’t want to find out whether he was glaring daggers at you or not.

He was seriously off his game and you couldn’t help but feel like you were to blame and you didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, you really didn’t want him to be off his game, and you didn’t like that you were the reason especially if it was pissing him off. But… on the other hand, a part of you liked that you had gotten into his head, that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you.

Curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. Only to find him watching you with his jaw clenched and shoulders tight. The look on his face was not one of want it was one of irritation. Yep, he was pissed off at you, curiosity killed this cat so you whipped back around to focus on the game.

Thankfully there were only 20 minutes left of the match and you could head home and get away from this. There was definitely no chance with Chris and you needed to accept that fact. If it required a pint of ice cream and a gallon of wine then that’s what you’d do.

You were just making your non-break-up-break-up recovery plan when you noticed Johnny get up from a tackle limping. You grabbed your bag and ran onto the pitch to meet him and made him sit down to get the weight off his leg.

“Hey, hey sit down before you make it worse” you said wrapping your hand around his arm to stop him.

Johnny flashed you a lopsided smile before nodding “Sure thing” he agreed sitting himself down “It’s my ankle, just needs strapping”

“Sure not a problem,” you said passing him a water bottle before grabbing some tape from your bag.

As you worked you could feel Johnny watching you and when you glanced up you saw his trademark boyish smirk “I have to say you pull off that orange medic bib well, not many do” he said.

Your eyes narrowed as you studied Storm “What are you doing?”

“Flirting with you,” he said without missing a beat.

“Did you not hear my father’s warning?” You asked him returning your attention to his ankle.

“Oh I did, but Evans is off his game and jealousy never fails to give someone that push” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders “We’ve got a championship to win, we don’t need a Captain who’s distracted because he’s not allowing himself the action he wants”

You swallowed nervously “he told you about that?” You ask trying not to sound too scared at the prospect.

“No it’s none of my business, I’d just heard he’d left the bar with a girl last weekend, didn’t know it was you until I saw the look on his face when you walked in on Monday” Johnny explained.

“What look?” You asked tilting your head slightly.

“The look of running into a hookup unexpectedly, trust me it's a look I know well, I also know the look on your face whenever you look at him,” Johnny said pointing at you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” You scoffed.

“The one that says you’re lost in whatever dirty daydream he’s currently starring in,” Johnny said knowingly.

“Yeah well he’s made it pretty clear that it's not gonna happen” you huffed as you put the tape back in your bag and passed him a water bottle.

“Nah he’s close to cracking, trust me” Johnny said with a shake of his head “So tell me do you want to get into bed again with the captain?” he asked with a knowing look.

You bit your lower lip as you considered it. The voice of Tommi flashed through your mind telling you it was a good idea that Chris cut things off. You can’t get hurt if you don’t get involved. But no matter how many times you told yourself that you just couldn’t get the craving to go.

“Yes,” you whispered nodding your head.

The grin on Johnny’s face grew “So let me help you, and in turn, help the team” You don’t say anything except arch a brow and a lopsided grin grows on his face “all you need to do is laugh, smile at me and maybe send me on my way with a touch to the arm”

You glanced towards the sidelines where Chris was watching from his spot on the bench. Even from this distance, you could tell his expression was stormy and it wasn’t because he’d been taken off early. His gaze was set solely on you and Johhny.

“Alright, deal,” you said holding out your hand to help Johnny to his feet.

“Perfect, and in return you can give me the number of your sister if you have one” Johnny smirked.

You laughed at that “I like you Storm but even if I had a sister it would be a no” you chuckled.

“Hot single friend?” He asked hopefully making you laugh even more, not even needing to fake it.

“Focus on the Rugby,” you told him, touching his bicep as you stepped away back towards the sideline.

As you walked back your gaze met Chris’ whose face had turned even stormier. He quickly adverted his gaze, only to glare daggers at Johhny. It was a good thing that he’d been taken off because by the look in his eyes, he’d probably tackle Johnny himself.

Thankfully for the team, the Bears managed to claw back the scoreboard and beat the knights so the team were in high spirits when they returned to the changing room, with the exception of Chris who was still being broody.

You were stood in the corner with the rest of the medical team while your dad gave his usual post-match speech and they all celebrated. When there was a break you caught Johnny asking you to come over to his cubby with a beckoning finger.

“Hey what’s up? Ankle okay?” you asked him as you crouched down to examine his ankle.

He pulled it away though and leaned forward so he could whisper to you “It's fine, ready to execute phase two of our plan?”

“Phase two? I didn’t realise this was a multiphase plan” you said tilting your head.

“We’ll use as many phases as needed” Johnny smirked “So what’s gonna happen is I’m gonna loudly invite you out to celebrate with us tonight”

“Like a date?” you asked.

“Sure, but you’re gonna turn me down and say maybe another time” Johnny explained.

You let out a small snort of laughter “Are you sure your ego can take that?” you smirked.

“It's a risk I’m willing to take, all we’re doing is confirming to Evans that he still has a chance but he has to act fast” Johnny elaborated “You’re gonna say that all you want is a night at home”

“So he knows where to find me” you realised.

Johnny winked “Exactly, so get yourself home and put on some of your cute cosies you girls have, the ones that say you weren’t expecting visitors but will still send his blood south” he smirked.

You let out a loud warm laugh at that, shaking your head at him “I like you Storm” you chuckled happy to know you had at least one friend on this team.

“Everybody does, now you get home and get some” Johnny winked.

As soon as you could you made your way home. You figured you had a bit of time to have a shower to freshen up and make sure you were ready for if and when Chris decided to show up. You then did as Johnny said and got into your best-looking cosies which consisted of a fluffy crop top and leggings.

Then all you had to do was wait.

And wait. And wait.

You waited for so long that you were really starting to doubt Johnny’s plan. What if Chris had decided to go out with the team? Would Johnny try and convince him to go home? What if Chris decided to find someone else, did what Tommi suggested you do?

You needed something to drink. Opening the fridge you let out an irritated groan when you discovered that you were out of beer, all you had was a bottle of white wine which was not your preferred drink. It would have to though so you grabbed the bottle and poured yourself a large glass.

Walking back to your couch you took a healthy glug to try to calm your nerves. You set it down on your coffee table so you wouldn’t drink it all in one go as you sat down, your leg bouncing nervously. Picking up your phone you considered maybe texting Chris, maybe you could phrase it in a way that looked like you were just checking if he was okay.

Before you could even think any further on that you heard your intercom buzz. You swallowed nervously and rose from the couch and made your way over to the intercom, taking a deep breath before pressing the button.

“Hello?” you said simultaneously hoping it was and wasn’t Chris.

“It's Chris… we need to talk” Chris responded making you breathe out a sigh of relief, at least you thought it was relief.

“Sure, c’mon up,” you said buzzing him in.

You didn’t hear anything else from him to suggest he was actually coming up but nevertheless, you opened your apartment door and waited for him. As you did so you nervously wiped your hands on your leggings hoping you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. What if he was still pissed? What if he thought you were trying to get with Storm as was here to tell you to back off?

When he finally came into view you had to swallow and tell yourself to behave because he looked that good. He had clearly showered but not bothered to reapply any hair product because his fluffy brown hair was disheveled. He wore a navy zip-up hoodie which was a size or two too small going by the way it clung to his biceps. But his grey sweatpants were the real killer and you had to mentally remind yourself to look at his face.

Neither of you said anything as he stepped inside your apartment, his hands buried in his pockets. You barely moved after shutting the door, just watching as he stood there looking around at your apartment.

“Less boxes” he finally said, his eyes finally finding you.

“Yeah… thankfully” you said struggling to find anything else to say, the atmosphere quickly becoming awkward “Do you want a drink? I don’t have any beer, but I have wine” you said looking for an out, pointing at your wine glass.

Chris shook his head “i’m good… you’re not expecting anyone are you?” he asked clearing his throat.

“No, I wasn’t, I’m not” you told him taking a couple of steps closer.

Chris nodded his head pursing his lips “Just figured you’d invited Storm over” he said.

His tone made your hackles rise, putting you on the defensive “Would it be a problem if I had?” you stated making Chris clench his jaw “Because you know we are two consenting adults, we don’t need permission to do what we want, we don’t need your permission, or my dad’s”

“Oh, so you do want to sleep with him?” Chris fired back.

“Why? Why do you care? Is that why you came here? To tell me to back off?” you demanded.

“No” Chris growled.

“Then why? Why are you here? What do you want?” you pressed walking over to him.

“I-” Chris started but you interrupted him again.

“What do you want!” you pretty much shouted.

Chris just growls surging forward, his hand clasping the back of your head as he crashed his lips down onto yours. You instantly responded, kissing him back hungrily, your arm winding around his shoulders, your other hand gripping his hoodie tightly. He in turn pulled you closer hand moving to cup your ass, a groan escaping his lips when he squeezed it.

“You’re such a bad idea” he groaned as he continued to kiss you.

“Then why does it feel so right” you murmured as you tried to tug him back towards your bedroom but he wouldn’t budge.

“Because you’re a drug” he muttered making you gasp in surprise when he turned you around, his hands placed firmly on your hips as he pressed kisses to your neck “All week I’ve wanted you, I thought I could deal with it myself but it wasn’t enough… I needed the real thing,” he said tugging your hips back into his so you could feel just how much he needed you.

“I know… I felt the same” you gasped as he slipped one hand beneath the waistband of your leggings, fingers running over your core and feeling your arousal.

“We shouldn’t do this” he murmured but still doesn’t stop, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in circles.

Your head dropped back against his shoulder giving him perfect access to your neck. Your hands gripped his arms to keep yourself upright when he nipped at your pulse point only to soothe it with his tongue.

“Don’t stop” you begged, your hips bucked up into his touch.

“I don’t plan on it” he growled as he plunged his fingers into you.

You let out a loud moan but it was silenced by his lips capturing yours once more. You all but melted into him, you would have completely fallen to the floor if he hadn’t wrapped his free arm around your waist, trapping you against him.

You came in record time, moaning his name as you hit your peak. Your chest heaved and your vision turned hazy but you were pretty sure you were watching Chris lick your arousal off his fingers which only made more flood your core. He caught sight of you watching him, a smirk on his lips as you bit yours.

Without saying anything he moved you so you were bent along the back on the couch, your leggings and underwear were soon tugged down and removed, thrown somewhere in your apartment. The anticipation was killing you as you heard Chris undress behind you and the tell-tale sign of a foil square being ripped into.

It then went silent. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and your heavy breathing as you waited for him to do something. After what felt like an eternity his hands ran over your hips and ass, massaging and squeezing your cheeks. He took his time, a moaning gasp escaping your lips when he decided to spank you once only to instantly soothe the stinging with a kiss.

He then kicks your legs further apart before stepping closer and lining himself up. You tried to fight back the moan at the feeling of just his tip pressing against you. He then went still and all you could hear was his heavy breathing as if he was trying to hold himself back.

You didn’t want that though, it had been the longest week in existence and you needed him now. You didn’t want him to hold himself back, you wanted him hard and fast, you needed the release only he could give you. There’d be time to go slower another time.

He must have been reading your mind or you were thinking out loud again as he then slams into you with so much force you nearly went over the top of the couch. He didn’t give you a moment to recover and you didn’t want it either because this was exactly what you wanted, what you fantasised.

“Fuck you feel so good” Chris groaned as he thrusts deeply into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly leaving his mark on you “How could I possibly think I could stay away” he muttered more to himself than to you.

His words made your back arch as you gripped the couch and ground back against him. Getting that confirmation that you had the same effect on him that he did on you was the biggest turn-on that existed.

Chris took advantage of your arched back reaching around to slip his hand under your fuzzy crop top to cup your breast. Pulling a loud moan from you as he played and pulled at your sensitive peak.

“Ch-chris I-” you moaned unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Hold on, I’m not done with you yet” Chris groaned as he placed a kiss to your spine “Not yet” he repeats when you let out a pleading whimper.

You did what you were told, trying to hold on for as long as Chris wanted you to, talking yourself back down from the edge that you so desperately wanted to jump off. You held on until it was impossible, grabbing Chris’ hand and directing him towards your clit but he pulled his hand away before you got the touch you needed.

“Ah, ah, ah, did I say you could cum?” Chris asked leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Please” you begged gripping his wrist.

“Please what?” Chris pushed moving his hand closer to where you wanted it.

“Please Chris, just please” you pleaded.

Chris didn’t say anything making you whimper only to gasp when he placed a kiss to your shoulder as he finally found your clit and brought you to the peak you were desperately chasing. You came with a loud moan your walls clenching and pulsating around him, you were so high in the clouds that you were only faintly aware of Chris hitting his peak just after you. Your only indicator being the feeling of his weight over you as he finished.

Your vision began to clear as you felt Chris pull out of you. You continued to recover, catching your breath as you heard Chris moving around your apartment behind you.

You were about to push yourself up to stand when you felt Chris’ hand run gently up your back. Looking over your shoulder you saw the gentle expression on his face as he helped you stand before leading you around to the front of the couch.

You watched as he lay down on the couch before pulling you down to lay on top of him, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. Your hand rested on his chest as you looked down at him and tried to understand the expression on his face. You knew there was stuff you needed to talk about, work out exactly what this arrangement was but you didn’t want to ruin this moment just yet.

So you just rested your head down on his chest and ran your hand over his chest “What are you doing tomorrow?” you asked quietly.

Chris hummed “nothing…why?”

You lifted your head again to look back down at him “Congratulations, you’ve been awarded membership to the most exclusive club in Boston”

A lopsided grin grew on his face “About time” he chuckled as he cupped your cheek and kissed you.

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Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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#niamhwrites #Boston Bears Series #Boston Bears: Off-Limits #Rugby AU #RugbyPlayer!Chris #Chris evans #Chris Evans x Reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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