#truly I was at a point where I thought oh I’m fine with this it’s okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

choism · 9 months

Text

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize.

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something.

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him.

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown smut #buggy the clown x reader #opla smut #opla x reader #op smut #op x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #buggy #buggy the clown

2K notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 1 month

Text

warning: pregnancy, Kurapika won’t let you give the baby up for adoption, obsessive and possessive behavior, reader is kidnapped

Imagine having a one night stand with Yandere!Kurapika and he ghosts you after… only to come to your door with chocolates and flowers after you tell him you’re pregnant.

It’s not like he didn’t like you, no Kurapika was beyond thrilled to have you in his bed, but he also knew that trying to stay with you would only get in the way of his goals. So, although it hurt, he decided to cut you off. He got to be with you for one amazing night, and he’d cherish that forever.

Well… his life changed when you sent him a picture of a positive pregnancy test. You sent it in desperation, crying because you feared that one of the people you cherished had only been in it for sex. It hurt so much, and it was only made worse when your period didn’t come.

So you sent that picture, asking him to please help you, to tell you what to do.

And he didn’t respond, leaving you on read.

It was devastating, to say the least. You spent the entire day crying, stressed out of your mind. Were you really going to have to deal with this all on your own?

That’s what you thought, until your doorbell rang near midnight. You weren’t woken up, in fact you had been pacing your apartment for the past few hours trying to think of what you should do about your predicament.

So you walked to the door, eyes puffy and red from crying. “K-Kurapika?”

Behind the door stood the man that had been causing you so much heartache, your best friend of 4 years, Kurapika. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and in his arms were a box of expensive chocolates and a bouquet of elegant flowers.

“(Name), oh my angel…”

He stepped in, setting the flowers and chocolates aside before pulling you into his arms to kiss your forehead. Kurapika’s hand instantly settled on your belly, as if already checking for any changes in your body with his soft, warm palm.

“I’m here, and I’m ready to be a father. When I got your message I was ecstatic, I’ve always wanted to rebuild my clan-“

You pulled away, pushing his hands off of you. “Kurapika, where the hell have you been and why haven’t you been answering my calls? You can’t just waltz in here and expect me to be fine with you ghosting me!”

“(Name), love, I-“

“Love? I’m not your love, Kurapika. You pushed me away and left me all alone when I needed you most… how can I trust you to be a father when I can’t trust you to be here for me?”

Kurapika was silent, his expression unreadable as he let you continue your rant.

“You just… you left me after we had sex, Kurapika! You left me all alone… it made me feel like I was nothing, like you only wanted one thing from me.”

You teared up from embarrassment and frustration. It had been humiliating to wake up to an empty bed with not so much as a note or text from him saying where he had gone. And then he wouldn’t answer your calls…

“I’m… I’m sorry, (Name).”

You rubbed your teary eyes. “Whatever. I’ll carry this baby, but it’s going up for adoption. I can’t raise it alone.”

This made Kurapika freeze, his eyes going wide with shock and terror. “(Name)… no, you can’t be serious. It’s my baby too, we should raise it together. I want to be a father!”

“You gave up any chances of that happening when you abandoned me. I hope your mission is truly worth it Kurapika, because I want nothing else to do with you.”

You pointed to the door, your lip wobbling and your brows furrowed. “Now leave! I n-never want to see you again!”

Kurapika was oddly quiet, his now scarlet eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look this way before… he seemed… deranged.

“I’m not leaving, (Name).”

He grabbed your wrist with enough strength to scare you. Kurapika wasn’t hurting you, but it was obvious that he easily could if he wanted to. “L-let go of me, what the h-“

Kurapika tightened his grip on your wrist when you struggled, his face neutral. “(Name), this baby is mine, and so are you. Calm down, or I’ll make you calm down.”

Your heart started to race. Who was this person? You maybe have been mad at Kurapika, but you would have never thought in a million years that he would do something like this!

You were scared now, trembling. “Let me go… please, just let me go.”

He softened slightly, his grip easing up a little. “I can’t, (Name). You’re coming with me, it’s obvious to me now that I can’t bear to be without you. And now that I know you’re pregnant…”

His eyes darted to your belly, and he reached out a hand to gently caress it again. “I can’t let you out if my sight. You’re under my care now.”

Before you could protest, you felt yourself growing tired, your limbs heavy. He caught you in his arms and lifted you up, cooing softly as he caressed your cheek. “There, there, my angel. Everything will be okay. I’ll prove to you how devoted I am, and you’ll never want to leave my side. Just sleep, when you wake up everything will be better.”

And as you drifted off, unable to stay awake, you could barely make out the sight of his car… and two suitcases in the backseat.

‘He planned this… planned to… take me away…’

That was the last thing you thought before passing out. As you slept, Kurapika bucked you up, using a pillow to cushion your head. He still couldn’t help but place his palm on your belly.

“I promise… from now on, I’ll never let you out of my sight. You’re both my responsibility…”

From that day forward, you would never know true freedom again. Kurapika had you now, and he would never let you go. Not you, the mother of his child, the love of his life.

Together forever, that’s how you would stay. He was sure of that.

467 notes · View notes

floralcyanidee · 9 months

Text

ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)

When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth

word count: 5254

author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though.

You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.

“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”

Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”

“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.

“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.

“Hmm. Alright, then.”

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.

“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.

You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.

“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.

“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”

“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”

“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”

You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.

“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?�� Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.

“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”

“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone.

“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.

“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.

“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”

You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels.

“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.

“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”

You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”

Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”

“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”

Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”

“And why are you here, exactly?”

“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”

“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.

“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.

“You better be glad there are people around or-”

“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.

“I’d fucking break you right here.”

“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”

You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”

“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”

Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-

“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.

“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”

Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”

You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”

“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.

You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”

If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it.

“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him.

“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”

You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.

“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.

“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.

“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.

“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”

Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”

“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”

Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.

“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.

“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”

“What do you think they mean?”

“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”

You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband.

“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”

Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”

You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”

You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic.

Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”

Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”

You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life.

“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.

“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.

You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure.

“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”

“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.

Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”

“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.

Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.

You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.

“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.

You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.

“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.

You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.

“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.

“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.

“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.

Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense.

“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.

Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.

You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints.

“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”

Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks.

“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face.

It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved.

“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.

“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”

You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch.

“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”

You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.

“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”

Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation.

“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.

“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.

You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue.

“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”

You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before.

“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.

You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.

“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.

You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.

Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him.

“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.

You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce.

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.

He doesn’t look at you or respond.

“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.

“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.

“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”

Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”

“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”

You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness.

“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.

Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan.

“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.

“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out.

Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.

“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”

Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce.

“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”

Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.

“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”

Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.

“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”

Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back.

“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.

Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.

“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”

Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.

“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”

Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.

“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.

Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.

You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.

“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.

“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”

“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.

“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”

You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly.

“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.

“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”

“Awesome.”

taglist:

@sstar-ggirl @cillsmurphs @ldklollord @thecherrycocktail @dunklerkeks1611 @hllywdwhre @ecstaticforus @faelvz @ceruleanrainblues @yongi-lee @baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr @flwrs4aust @langdons-slut @shynovelist @trixie23 @cillianbabe @slut4thebroken @mypoisonedvine @burnyouwithacigarettelighter @cranesbathtowel @arieslost @nefhertari @forgottenpeakywriter @llucky-llove @october-atoner @madlittlecriminal @ynisthatyou @starbxnny @darkmoviesquotespizza @newtsniffles

2K notes · View notes

sugrhigh · 2 months

Text

HOTBOX 2 - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

part one

summary- matt smoked with his best friends for the first time, and after you guys get home his dirty thoughts about you finally come to life

warnings- SMUT !! so don’t read if ur uncomfy, swearing, unprotected sex, slightly subby!matt

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: HEHE i had fun writing this so i hope you guys truly enjoy. i will be working on boy next door and a beautiful fall req i just received, but until those are posted my inbox is open for any comments, reqs, or sweet nothings xoxo

dedicated to the lovely @awsturn thank you for requesting!!!

@fawnchives @mattswrld @l1ttlefreakk @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick

“oh wow, matt.” nick can’t stifle his laughter as his brother walks through the front door with the rest of you.

he’s got his arm around your shoulder, leaning some of his weight on you as you move in unison. he promised he could walk fine on his own, but you insisted on being there just in case.

not that he minds the physical contact.

“what?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his eyes finally focus.

“nothing you just look…very faded.”

“that’s because he is.” you reply for him.

“hey, so are you guys!” matt argues, and you nod your head absentmindedly as the two of you head past nick to the living room.

“yes, we are. do you want to sit?”

“are you going to?”

you laugh and untangle yourself from his arms once you’re beside the couch. “you don’t have to do everything i do, you know.”

his legs are far less shaky than they were before, but he plops down on the plush cushions regardless. the rest of the group is still chattering in the foyer, and he appreciates the few seconds of alone time he gets with you.

“just wanted to make sure you weren’t leaving.” matt shrugs lazily in response.

“i’m literally spending the night dork.” you remind him, turning to head into the kitchen.

you’re unknowingly giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walk, covered only by those thin little yoga pants, hips swaying back and forth like you’re taunting him on purpose.

he has to force himself to look away, to try and put an end to all of the filthy thoughts churning in his mind. he shouldn’t be thinking them, especially not about one of his best friends.

but matt is too fried to pretend he doesn’t have feelings for you. he always has. it’s just harder to hide how much he wants you when he can barely remember how to breathe.

it’s pretty late, so chris and nathan announce that they’re going to his room to play video games. the pair are already bounding down the hall as you return to the living room, equipped with a bottle of water in one hand.

“where the hell are they off to?” you ask with a grin, passing him the drink.

“going to play fortnite or something.” matt replies, taking the water into his own trembling hands.

he tries to ignore the way his fingers pass over yours, tries not to wonder if you feel the same spark that he does just from a simple touch. luckily, nick enters seconds later which relieves some of the tension.

he watches his brother wrap you in a quick hug. “i have to finish editing, but i’ll see you in the morning.”

“you better be up in time for mcdonald’s breakfast.” you point an accusatory finger at him as he heads to his room laughing.

“yeah, yeah, wake me whenever. goodnight matt, drink that water.”

he hears the door click closed a second later, his eyes trained on you as you move to sit down beside him. your thigh is inches from his, but you’re still too far away for his liking.

“are you sleepy?” you ask him as you settle down against the cushions, finally meeting his gaze once you’re comfortable.

“not really.” he finds himself smiling at you, for no real reason besides the fact that he loves you.

you tilt your head to the side, studying him with a look in your eyes that indicates you’re amused. “okay, how are you then? enjoying it?”

his eyes are low and red, watching your lips as they move. he can’t stop thinking about your fingers gently gripping his thigh earlier, the confident tone in which you speak to him, how you handle yourself.

all of that mixed with the weed is making him incredibly turned on. he shifts a little, dropping the water bottle on the couch so he can use his hands to cover his lap.

“yeah, i’m enjoying it.” matt says quietly, unable to look anywhere besides you.

you furrow your brows a little bit, but your grin doesn’t fade, which makes him feel better.

“alright, what’s going on? i know you’re high and everything, but you’re acting a little too weird.” you accuse him, though your demeanor is light-hearted as you nudge your shoulder against his.

he shakes his head just slightly as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. “what do you mean? i’m totally normal.”

matt finds that his voice is just a little too squeaky and quick to be convincing, and he knows he’s not a very good liar, especially when it comes to you.

“come on, i know that’s not true. you can tell me anything.” you push, moving a little bit so that you can properly face him.

the light coming from the kitchen silhouettes your features beautifully, and he can feel the words crawling up his throat. it’s involuntary, but the truth is coming out either way.

“i already told you earlier.”

“what?”

“i just…want you.” he finally admits breathlessly.

this catches you completely off guard, considering you had pushed your previous conversation in the car to the back of your mind. you figured he was just tripping, only saying flirty things because he was so out of it.

your lips part like you’re going to speak, but nothing happens. matt studies your face for any kind of emotion other than shock, but he can’t read you, which makes him anxious.

“i’m sorry, fuck, i don’t know why i’m saying this shit right now, of all times, but you look so pretty and i just…i needed you to know because—” he stumbles over his words, which morph together in the wrong places.

“matt, matt, it’s okay.”

you put a hand on his thigh again, trying to let him know that everything is fine, and he literally twitches from the pressure of your palm being so close to where he needs you.

“don’t do that.” he hisses, unable to control the way he slightly bucks against your fingers.

but you don’t move, because you feel yourself throb at the sight of him growing hard in his sweatpants. all because you touched him.

“matt…” you tilt your head, trying to get him to look at you.

he exhales a long breath before he finally does, his faded eyes wider now, cheeks flushed and brown hair messy from the wind of the car ride home. he looks beautiful, your beautiful best friend.

but matt is way more. you need him to be more.

“are you sure you want this?” you say faintly, leaning in just enough for him to notice.

“do you want this?”

you nod your head slowly, staring at his pink lips, unable to stop wondering if they’re as soft as they look. so you meet him the rest of the way, your mouth meshing against his gently.

matt almost melts at the feeling, and butterflies erupt through his chest. he can’t believe this is happening. part of him wonders if he fell asleep, and is dreaming it all up.

it’s thrilling, how desperate you both are for more, how his tongue slips against yours so nicely, and he has to contain himself when you bite down on his bottom lip every so often.

you pull away and swing your leg over his lap so you can straddle him. he groans quietly underneath you, because your hips feel so nice on his that he already wants to combust on the spot.

and then you lean down to his ear, moving slowly against his hard dick, so close he can feel your breath tickle his skin.

“i’m gonna take care of that, baby,” you whisper, “but you have to be quiet. can you do that?”

matt nods eagerly and you kiss his neck in response, tugging at the skin lightly. his hands travel to your ass, gripping it tightly to force some more friction.

he feels you grin against his throat, and he has to hold back a moan from the combined sensation of your tongue and hips going to work.

you move up to his jaw, across his cheek, back to his mouth, and this time he smiles against your lips. kissing you is just so sweet, even when it’s sinful, and he’s so high and happy it's impossible not to.

you pepper him with a few more quick pecks before crawling off of his lap, crouching down between his knees. he’s already needy, missing having you on top of him even though you look gorgeous at his feet.

matt reaches out to smooth your hair, holding your head in his hand as his thumb brushes your cheek.

“are you real?” it leaves his mouth before he can think.

you let out a breathy laugh, turning your head to kiss the heel of his palm softly. “i’m real, i promise.”

the intimacy of the moment, just that small gesture, is making his heart slam against his ribcage.

you reach up to hook your fingers underneath the waist of his sweats, tugging them down to indicate he should lift himself. matt does just that, pressing his back against the couch so you can slide the soft material down to his ankles.

your run your hands up his thighs before you go to the band of his boxers, pulling so that his dick springs free. he’s already wet and straining, precum soaking his tip, and he’s a little embarrassed by the way you’re looking at it.

but you’re only staring because it’s bigger than you expected, possibly the biggest you’ve seen in person. you’re entranced as your fingers glide over his tip, spreading his wetness across the rest of the base.

“shit…” matt mutters under his breath, throwing his head back against the couch as he fucks himself into your hand slightly.

you love hearing him all breathless, watching his muscles clench in pleasure as you stroke him. but you can tell he’s already worked up enough, so you start to slow your movements to a stop before pushing yourself to stand.

his head snaps back up, surprised by the switch in pace, and then his eyes get wider. you slip your leggings off, reaching for the hem of your shirt after so you can tug it over your head and discard it with your pants.

he loves seeing you exposed like this, every curve, every gorgeous little detail that makes your body your body.

“my pretty girl.” he praises, completely pussy whipped already, and it makes you a little bit shy as you stand before him.

you just like matt so much, and hearing him compliment you in such a personal setting only confirms how much you need him.

“want you inside me.” you murmur, straddling his waist again, sliding your wet panties against his shaft lightly as you get situated.

“please, oh my god—” he’s choking on his own words as you push your panties to the side, lining him up with your entrance.

you sink down on him without warning, feeling that delicious and familiar pressure in your stomach as he fills you up. matt’s hands find their way to your ass again, in a state of complete euphoria from having you wrapped around him.

you both groan, and you lean in so you can attach your mouth to his, swallowing the sounds of your shared pleasure. he helps guide you up and down, slowly at first, admiring the way you squeeze his dick every time he’s fully inside.

“fuck, you feel so good matt.” you whine against his lips as quietly as possible, picking up the pace and moving your hips at a quicker speed, hands on the frame of the sofa to help you bounce.

“promise you feel better.” he manages to respond before having to bite down on his bottom lip hard to contain a moan.

you’re riding him so well, skin slapping skin together ever so slightly. matt uses one hand to tug your bra down so he can slide his tongue over one of your nipples. you arch into his wet mouth, enjoying the way he softly sucks on each of them, swapping every so often.

he loves having your tits in his face so much, and he knows he won’t be able to hang on much longer with the way you’re moving.

“m’close, oh fuck—” his eyes roll back as you rock against him as fast as possible, rotating your hips so he hits a different spot every time.

“that’s it baby, keep fucking me, let it all go.” you command, relishing in the wave that’s taking over you as well.

matt slams you down on him a couple more times before he feels his fingers lose their grip, shuddering as he finishes inside you, breathless and sweaty.

your own muscles tense and you dive into it, releasing all over his cock as you slow your pace due to the overstimulation. you’re also panting as you slide off of him, rolling over his leg so you can sit beside him for a minute.

“that was…wow.” matt sighs happily as the both of you readjust your underwear.

“agreed.” you turn your head to smile at him, leaning in for one more little kiss.

it’s short, but it’s still just as passionate as the ones that came before. you could do it all day, his lips are just that soft.

“we should probably get cleaned up. do you wanna spend the night in my room?” his voice is still hushed once you pull away, and there’s a certain weight behind his words.

“i kinda want to sleep in your room every night.” you reply honestly, and his face lights up again at the confession, because he feels the exact same.

“i think i would kinda like that a lot.”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #fanfic

563 notes · View notes

heavenlyhischier · 10 months

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐰 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 3k

summary: what do you do when you fight with your best friend before you go back home and his brother calls you, offering to fly you out because his little brothers been moping around?

warnings: jealous luke (but only a little bit), cursing, angst but not too bad i don’t think (just besties fighting and making up), unedited, make out sesh at the end

You had been curled up on your couch all day watching Jersey Shore when you heard your phone vibrate on the coffee table. Pausing the show, you leaned forward to grab your phone and furrowed your brows when Jack’s name was displayed across the top of the screen. After the way you had left things with Luke the last time you visited, you debated on whether or not you wanted to answer the call. However, the anxious thoughts that something might have happened to your closest friend were enough to slide your finger across the screen.

“Hey,” You answered, fingers nervously dragging across the blanket in your lap, “Is everything okay?”

“Actually, I was going to ask you that question,” Jack’s voice came through the other end, laced with a slight sense of worry and curiosity.

“Everything’s fine,” You slowly spoke, straightening your back, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Luke’s just been super mopey since you left. Like even worse than he usually is, and he won’t talk to me,” Jack sighed, and you could picture him running his hand through his hair, “I was thinking that maybe I could fly you up here for the weekend. Seeing you always makes him feel better.”

Your breathing faltered at his words before you managed a weak, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jack’s silence on the other end made you nervous. You don’t blame him, of course. You had been friends with Luke for nearly three years now and not once had you turned down a visit to see him. Not when he was at Michigan, and definitely not now that he was in Jersey. Typically, you would drop anything if it meant getting to visit your best friend.

“We sort of got into an argument before I left last time,” You explained, trying to push through the unnerving tension in your stomach.

“About what?”

Recalling the events of that morning, you let out a frustrated sigh. It was over the stupidest thing, and it got completely blown out of proportion. Truthfully, the arguing isn’t what had upset you. It was what Luke had said right before you left his apartment that truly bothered you.

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” You yelled, throwing Luke a harsh glare as you gathered your stuff, “He gave me his number, so what?!”

“Why would you even want to go out with a barista,” He spit the word out as if it burned his tongue, “That’s so-”

“Oh my god, Luke! It doesn’t matter where he works. Stop being such a self-righteous asshole. Just because you’re a big shot hockey player, doesn’t make everyone else inferior to you.”

You were seething at this point, frustrated tears steadily rolling down your cheeks as you shoved all of your things into your bag. Truly, you wanted nothing more than to just drop the entire ordeal, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. In order to drop it, Luke would have to realize that he was wrong and apologize. Judging by the rage in his eyes and his rigid body, that wasn’t going to happen before you had to take leave to go back home.

“My ride is here, so I’ll just text you when my plane lands,” You dismissed, wiping at your cheeks as you grabbed your bags.

“Don’t bother.”

Your head snapped in his direction, and all you were met with was a blank expression on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. He raised his eyebrow as if he was baiting you, seeing if you were going to hit back at him. Instead, you shook your head as you let out a mangled scoff, walking out of his apartment and letting the door slam shut behind you.

“Something stupid. Doesn’t matter, but I don’t think me coming would be a good idea. I’m sorry, J,” You felt tears prick at your eyes as you denied his proposal. You wanted to see Luke more than anything, but he hadn’t even tried to text or call you since you left. He hadn't even liked the instagram picture you posted last week.

“Please,” He whined, “If you’re in some dumb fight, that’s all the more reason for you to come. So you can work it out.”

Jack went on for nearly fifteen more minutes, listing off all of the reasons it was a good idea for you to come. He told you that if Luke was an ass to you, then he would handle it and get you an early flight back home if that’s what you wanted. It wasn’t until you heard his voice in the background of the phone call, asking Jack who he was talking to, when you really contemplated it. You could tell Jack had pulled his phone away from his ear by the way the voices were muffled, but what he had said when he returned made you say yes.

The plan was as follows:

You board your flight at roughly 1:49 pm on Friday

Text Jack when you’re about to land and he’ll send a car for you since he had practice.

You go up to his apartment and wait for their arrival.

Most importantly, don’t tell Luke.

It seemed simple and easy, but your heart was racing a mile a minute as you walked through their apartment door and thought of all the bad things that could happen. Discarding your bag far enough away from the door that it would go unnoticed, you glanced around the living room to see that absolutely nothing had changed. Video game controllers were strewn across the coffee table, various blankets tossed haphazardly across the arms of the couch, and laundry baskets of unfolded laundry tucked in the corner. You couldn’t help but admire the random photos they had on their wall, most of them courtesy of Ellen or yourself, and on their tables. However, you paused in your steps as you heard the keypad beeping from the other side.

“Why are you smiling at me like that,” Luke grumbled, tossing Jack a glare he’s gotten used to over the last two weeks.

“What? I can’t smile at my baby brother,” Jack teased, ignoring his brothers bad attitude since he knew what, or who, was on the other side of the door.

“No. Not like that,” Luke pushed through the door.

You were holding your breath as you waited for him to notice you standing in the middle of his living room. Nerves crawled across your skin, lighting it on fire as you became fearful that you had made a mistake by coming. Fearful that he was still mad at you and would tell you to go back home. Fearful that he would take one look and completely ignore you.

His eyes finally landed on you, and it was as if the entire world stopped spinning. He stumbled over his own feet, eyes widening and raking over your entire body as if he was trying to figure out if you were real or not. You let out the breath you had been holding when you watched him throw his bag on the ground and take the two strides needed towards you. He slightly bent over, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him so close that you’re certain he was trying to merge you into one person.

You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his neck as he buried his face in yours. His damp hair stuck to your exposed skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you let yourself completely fall into the feeling of him. You could feel all of the tension you had been holding from your argument dissipate the longer he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” He whispered against you, his warm breath slightly tickling your neck.

“I missed you, too,” You murmured, feeling your chest strain as you struggled to breathe, “But you gotta let me go. I can’t breathe.”

He reluctantly let you go, and the tears that lined his eyes and his utterly defeated look made your heart break. You had to force yourself to break the contact, if only briefly, to make your way to Jack. He wrapped you up in his arms, but the feeling that it elicited was nowhere near the same when it was his brother. There were no butterflies filling your stomachs or sparks flying when he touched you. He whispered a quiet ‘thank you for coming’ before letting you go and retreating to his room.

“C’mon,” You called out as you grabbed his duffel bag, “Let’s go lay down.”

Luke took your free hand and let you pull him to his room. He cringed when you pushed the door open and realized that it was an absolute mess. He hadn't had the energy to clean it up recently, and the look on your face told him that you wanted to say something about it, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed his bag on the floor in front of his dresser, curtly nodding when Luke told you that he had at least cleaned his sheets a few days ago.

He watches as you kick your shoes off and settle into the middle of his bed, your brow raised as he stays put in the doorway. Regaining his composure, he rid himself of his own shoes and shrugged his jacket off before slipping into the spot next to you. He was hesitant to reach out and pull you over to him like he’d always done, but you simply tugged him down so his head was on your chest. He draped his arm around your waist and held you tightly, matching your breathing.

Your fingers carded through his damp, messy hair as silence enveloped the two of you. Neither of you said anything in fear of ruining the moment, but you both knew something needed to be said. It needed to be fixed instead of pretending like nothing happened.

“We haven’t talked in a while,” He started, trying to focus on the way you felt against him instead of the awkwardness that now hung in the air.

You let out a quiet hum as you reminded him, “You’re the one who told me not to text you.”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” His voice cracked as he clung to you, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have never done any of that. I regretted all of it as soon as I said it. I hated not talking to you. It was the worst three weeks of my life.”

You dropped your eyes down to his face and saw a stream of tears flowing down his cheeks and onto your shirt. It was easy to ignore the growing wet spot in your shirt, but the aching in your chest wasn’t as easy to shrug off. Seeing Luke cry made you feel like someone was ripping your heart out. Tears of your own spilled down your cheeks as you shifted so that you were able to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” You whispered, gently wiping away at his cheeks with your free hand, “It’s okay, Luke. I’m sorry, too. We both said things we didn’t mean, but it’s okay. We’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded against your chest, breathing shallow and uneven as he tried to get himself to stop crying. He felt pathetic and weak as he let his emotions get the best of him, but he at least felt safe and comfortable enough with you to not really care. He knows you would never judge him.

“I really did miss you. So much,” Luke sniffled, nudging his head against you.

“I missed you too, Luke. I missed you a lot,” You breathed out, closing your eyes as you leaned your head against his headboard.

“Not the same,” His voice was so quiet that you barely heard it.

“What do you mean,” You pulled your brows together, opening your eyes to glance at the boy on your chest.

“Nothing, never mind,” He mumbled as he shook his head.

Not wanting to press the situation any further, you lightly hummed and leaned your head back once again. You lightly scratched at his scalp as your fingers threaded in his hair, his breathing steadying down to a slower, relaxed pace. His fingers were digging into your hip as if he was afraid you were going to leave again, and it made your chest burn.

Intimate moments like this weren’t uncommon in your friendship with Luke, but they still clouded your thoughts nonetheless. He has always been extremely physical with you the entire time you’ve known him; a part of his body touching you no matter what was going on. His arm would be thrown over your shoulders, his hand on your lower back, his legs thrown over your lap, or one of you would be laying on the others chest as you watched tv. While you know Luke didn’t mean anything by his constant affection, that didn’t stop the warmth from spreading throughout your chest and to your stomach every time.

No matter how hard you had tried to push your feelings for Luke away, they would pop back up like they never left the second you saw him again. You had to constantly remind yourself that that's just how Luke was. He was probably a touchy guy with everyone he cared about in his life, and you shouldn’t read too much into it unless you wanted to get hurt.

“Saw that you scored a couple goals the other night,” Your voice cut through the silence, making Luke’s eyes snap to your own, “You played pretty good, I guess.”

“You watched the game,” He asked incredulously, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Of course I did, Luke. I watch every single one,” You lightly chuckle at the way his eyes were blown with surprise.

“But you- you always ask me how they were like you don’t ever watch them,” He lowly spoke, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion. You could hear a slight hint of hurt when he mentioned you not watching his games, and that sent a pang of guilt to your chest.

“I know,” You bashfully spoke, cheeks tinging pink as you continued, “I do that because I like hearing you talk about them. You just get so excited and passionate, and I don’t know. I guess I just like listening to your perspective over anything else.”

The air around the two of you shifted as Luke’s eyes dragged from your eyes and down to your lips, and back up again. Your heart raced and your stomach twisted itself into knots as you waited to see what he would say, or do.

He rasped your name, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded a bit too quickly and eagerly than you would have liked, but the second you did, Luke was crashing his lips with your own. Your eyes flutter closed as you let yourself fall entirely into the moment in front of you, thoughts composing entirely of the way his lips felt on your own. You’d imagined this time and time again, but there was absolutely nothing that could have prepared you for the real deal. He was hovering over you, one of his arms supporting his weight while the other wound around your back to pull you into his chest, and you were falling into a blissful dizzying haze.

Luke pulled away, a small whine escaping your lips at the loss of warmth, but he simply pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his thighs, blood pounding in your ears and lip pulled between your teeth as you met his piercing gaze. His hands hesitantly dragged up your thighs, the skin underneath your leggings begging for his touch. Using his shoulders to keep your balance, you slowly leaned forwards, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

Your mouth finally meets his again, your dominant hand moving up his neck and to the back of his head to tangle in his mess of damp curls. A gentle tug to his hair allows you to slip your tongue in his mouth, a breathless whimper vibrating on your lips as his hands cups your thighs and moves you against him. He groans as your press yourself onto him, but you spring off of him when you hear the door opening.

“Are you guys hungr-,” Jacks voice cut off into a scream as he hastily slammed the door shut, “I’m going to go to that one place down the road to eat, you two carry on! I’m ready to be an uncle!”

You met Luke’s horrified stare, raising your eyebrows before the two of you fell into a fit of laughter. He threw his head back on to his pillow, his hands gently pulling you forward so that you fell against his chest. Your breathing is heavy as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, fingers ghosting over the bare skin on his arm.

“I swear he has a sixth sense for ruining my moments,” He breathed out, glancing down at you as your face twisted in confusion, “I’ve wanted to kiss you before, but Jack always seemed to walk in just before I could actually do it. At least this time he waited.”

“Should’ve just done it,” You teased, lightly pinching at his skin.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if you even felt the same way,” He admitted, shrugging before he continued, “I convinced myself there was no way you liked me back, especially after I got jealous because that barista gave you his number. The way I acted- I thought you were gone for good.”

His voice was thick with emotion and his eyes were screwed shut, and you knew that was his way to keep himself from letting his tears fall again. Your hand slipped up to cradle his jaw in your hand, “I will always be here, Luke. For the record, if it’s not obvious, I do like you back.”

His hand slips underneath your shirt, fingers dancing across the skins of your back as the two of you let the comfortable silence envelope you. The sound of the door shutting tore through the stillness in his room, letting the two of you know that Jack did indeed leave to get food.

“You know,” You peered up at him, placing a small, barely there kiss underneath his jaw, “He’s gone now…”

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #new jersey devils #NJD #jack hughes

2K notes · View notes

tomriddleslove · 12 days

Text

Latch.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Summary: The one where the two of you have been selected for a 3 week apprenticeship right in the heart of Paris. With it being your last week, you can’t let the reserved and broody Mattheo not have one night out. Alternatively: All it takes is one moment for the boy to realise he’s in love

A/N: Listen to the damn song or i’ll fight you 🤺

Songs: Latch - Sam Smith, Disclosure (do me a favour and listen to this one slightly slowed)

“Oh come on, Mattheo.” You plead, an exasperated tone edging into your voice as you face the impassive boy.

He sits in on the chaise lounge in his room, a book held in his hands. He doesn’t even entertain your pleas, remaining silent as you walk over to him.

You crouch down in front of him, pulling the top of his book down into your hands. This forces him to look down at you, and you swear you see him momentarily falter as he finally notices what you wanted to do, or rather, where you wanted to go.

“It’s our last week here. Soon we’ll be stuck with only the common room as the best place to go out to.” You say with a small huff.

You get up, dusting down the front of the dress you wore. It was a deep, almost blood-red colour, and If Mattheo didn't have such an aversion to anything remotely resemblant of the Gryffindor house he would have complimented you on it. It was made of a delicate fabric, not quite silk but close enough. It draped over your form and came down to your mid-calf, and you had put on a bit of makeup too.

Mattheo had always thought you were beautiful. Whether you had your hair tied up and you were in your school uniform, or if you were out on the quidditch field barking out orders to the terrified 3rd years. But now, you truly were something else.

He looks around his room with a small, impatient sigh. Both Mattheo and you had been selected for a 3-week apprenticeship that would take place near the end of the summer holidays. Had it been anyone else, Mattheo would have been far less enthusiastic. However, it was you, and you were the only person he could tolerate. So, the experience was….

Enjoyable.

“Where do you want to go?” He says, quirking a brow as he dog ears the page.

“Out! Merlin, I don't know, to a restaurant, or on a walk. We’re in Paris, for heaven's sake, let’s do something on our last day!” You plead, continuing.

“Mattheo, I know you hate crowds, but this is Paris," you continue, emphasising the city’s name as if it holds all the magic in the world—which, you suppose, it does. "You can't come to Paris and not do something worth remembering. Besides, I’ve put on a dress! Don’t you like it?"

You do a little twirl to demonstrate, and Mattheo’s gaze follows the fabric as it flares out, his eyes momentarily softening. You know you’ve got him; he’s never been able to resist you when you’re like this, energetic and full of life. The fact that it’s his last day with you here makes the idea of staying in his room seem utterly bleak.

He finally sighs, closing the book and setting it on the side table. "Okay, fine," he says, standing up. "But I’m not dressing up like you."

You grin, tugging his hand as he stands up.

“I don’t expect you to. As long as you’re coming with me.”

You grab your jacket, shoving the keys to the dingy little inn into your pocket as you step out into the cold night air. The streets become livelier as you venture out of the twisted back alleys, lively with chatter and the smell of street food.

You lead him along the Seine, pointing out little things that catch your eye, like street performers and boats with glowing lanterns. Despite his scepticism, Mattheo seems to relax a bit, keeping pace with you and even cracking a faint smile when you tease him about his grumpy expression.

He keeps shooting wary glances at the crowded streets, clearly uncomfortable with the throngs of muggles milling about. You can't help but chuckle at his discomfort, finding it endearing in a strange way.

"Relax, Mattheo," you say, "It's just a walk. What could possibly go wrong?"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Famous last words," he mutters under his breath.

You hated to admit he was right. You could only pray he didn't notice as you take a turn and venture down an alleyway that seems to be getting impossibly narrower. Just as Mattheo’s about to speak up, the clearing opens up into a small square. At the far end, there's a line of people outside what looks like a converted warehouse, with neon lights casting a soft glow over the scene.

“Nope," he says flatly. "I'm not going in there."

“Oh come on Mattheo, please?” You pout, turning to him. You grab his hand with both of yours, looking up at him earnestly as you continue. “Just for a little while! Its our last weekend here, and I doubt you’ll be coming back to go clubbing in Paris anytime soon.”

His eyes flicker between the queue of people and you, and you swear you see his resolving cracking slowly. But, just as quickly as it came, it left, and he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. Those are muggles. I refuse to mix with them like this." His voice was stern, but there was an edge of uncertainty, his eyes darting around the lively square.

"Mattheo, it's just one night," you said, squeezing his hand, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his reluctance. "It's Paris, and we're young. Besides, I need you with me, just in case something goes wrong." You threw in a playful wink, knowing that he couldn’t resist the call to play the role of protector.

Mattheo groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This is not my idea of a good time," he said,. "I don't like crowds. I don't like muggles. I don't like... all this."

You took a step closer, your voice softening to a near whisper. "But you like being around me, right?” You say, and he grumbles under his breath.

There it was, the moment of hesitation, the crack in his resolve. He looked into your eyes, and you could tell he was wavering. His stern facade faltered just enough for you to push him toward the line, one step at a time.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"Fine," he grumbles, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "But if anyone asks, I'm here under duress. And if something goes wrong, I told you so."

“Yes yes, I’m the bad guy. Heaven forbid you go clubbing and live a little .” You mock, dragging him to join the queue. You don't miss the way he shields you, standing protectively around you as you wait in the cold. The line moves fast enough, and before you know it you're in the club. You grab hold of the hem of Mattheos sleeves, not wanting to risk getting him lost before he curses you to hell for eternity.

Neon lights flash erratically, casting shifting patterns over the dance floor. Music booms from speakers positioned at every corner, making it nearly impossible to hear anything but the thumping bass. Bodies press against one another, dancing and swaying in a chaotic rhythm.

You glance at Mattheo, and his discomfort is written all over his face. His eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign of danger or trouble. It's not just the crowd that has him on edge; it's the sheer volume of it. It’s far more chaotic than anything he's used to, and the fact that it's packed with muggles only amplifies his anxiety.

You give him a reassuring squeeze on his sleeve, knowing he's on high alert. "Relax, Mattheo," you shout over the music. "We're here to have fun, remember?"

He doesn't look convinced, but he nods reluctantly. "Just be careful," he mutters, his voice barely audible above the din. "This place is a madhouse."

You head to the bar, weaving through the sea of people, and order a couple of drinks. You notice that Mattheo is hovering close behind you, his body language protective as if he's ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. You hand him his drink, but he barely takes a sip, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

You weave through the crowd with practised ease, all the whilst Mattheo barges through with little to no care. You sip your drink with reckless abandon, tipping it back as you begin to dance to the music.

It's silly, and it sounds like a nightmare if you were to describe it. But it’s so freeing, so addictive. You’re far from wizarding high society, not having to worry about upholding a certain appearance or looking over your shoulder for those who may have grievances against you. You're surrounded by people who don't know your name, don't know who you are, but they dance alongside you, and won’t bat an eye to a thing you do.

This, is what freedom was.

People move and dance, a blur of faces and limbs. It's hard to tell where one person ends and another begins, and Mattheo is on high alert, trying to keep you in his line of sight.

But then, in a moment of chaos, you disappear into the crowd.

He starts to push through the crowd, not caring who he elbows out of the way, his eyes scanning frantically for a glimpse of you. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion—the throngs of people, the flashing lights, the relentless pulse of the music.

His anxiety builds with each passing second, the worst-case scenarios racing through his mind. He curses himself for letting you drag him into this. He's always been cautious, always careful, and now you're lost in a sea of strangers, and it's all his fault.

Then, suddenly, there's a break in the crowd.

He sees you. You're on the dance floor, surrounded by people, but to him, it feels like you're the only one there. The lights seem to focus on you, casting you in a soft glow.

Mattheo feels his breath catch in his throat. It's like the world has stopped, and all he can see is you. The way you move, the way you laugh, the way you just... shine. It's mesmerising, and he realises instantly that he's never felt this way.

Rather, he’s never realised he’s felt this way before.

All of a sudden it was clear as day. He loved you. There was nothing more to it. No one, and truly no one, could have convinced Mathteo to come here. But the second you had asked, he was a goner, even if he tried to convince himself otherwise

You spot him, your eyes lighting up with your god-forsaken impish smile as you beckon him over. He’s there in an instant, his body carrying him over to you before he even realises it. His hands find home on your hips, and he's stuck staring at you as though you've hypnotised him.

Bodies press against him from all around, but all he sees is you. The way the silk of your dress feels against his fingertips, the way your perfume smells, the way you gaze up at him in an equally as entranced way.

It’s you. All you. It’s always been you.

And who were to deny it? Mattheo, the boy who came with scars and even more secrets, the dark and brooding boy who no one wanted to befriend. The boy who, no matter how hard he tries to plead otherwise, is the most caring boy you know.

When it's raining outside and you're caught without an umbrella, he's the one who magically finds one and holds it over your head. When you're studying late into the night, he's the one who leaves a cup of tea by your side, even if he's long gone by the time you notice it. He'll take the fall for you when you're caught sneaking out after curfew.

How he listens, really listens, even when you talk about the most mundane things as if every word you say is precious.

Mattheo, the boy with the dark hair and the darker secrets, who keeps everyone at arm's length. Yet, he lets you in, inch by inch. He doesn’t talk about his past, but you know it’s there, lurking beneath the surface. You see it in the way he flinches when someone gets too close unexpectedly, or how he tightens up when someone mentions the Dark Arts. But with you, he’s different. With you, he’s at ease.

So when you ask him to come to the club, he comes. Even if he’s not comfortable with it, he’s here because you asked, and he’d go anywhere you asked him to.

The music seems to fade into the background, nothing really mattering when your hands come up to rest on his shoulder. You mindlessly twirl one of his dark curls with your finger, tucking it back as you gaze into his eyes.

You dance with him, The flashing lights and the crowded dance floor don’t matter when you’re in his arms. There’s something about the way he holds you, protective yet gentle, that makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and he leans down, his lips close to your ear. "Are you having fun?" he asks, his voice low, barely audible over the music.

"Only because you're here," you reply, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It’s in this moment that you know you love him. You love the way he acts like he's tough and detached, but he cares more than anyone you’ve ever known. You love how he’ll stay up late to help you study for an exam, even if he has one the next day. You love that he’ll share his favourite books with you, the ones he never lets anyone else see. You love the way he makes you feel safe, even when he’s terrified of certain things.

Mattheo, the boy who’s never had much use for friends, who finds it easier to keep people at a distance, is the same boy who would drop everything if you needed him. The boy who looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As you dance together, you know that it’s him.

Because it’s him. It’s always been him.

He pulls back slightly but pauses when his face is right in front of yours. Breath mingling, lips just barely brushing. You're so damned close, yet so far, and all he needs to do is lean ever so slightly forward.

“Mattheo-” You murmur, taking every last bit of his restraint with your words as he surges forward, lips meeting yours in a kiss.

It’s sheer longing, years of suppressed feelings coming to the surface. It’s as though you can feel the emotion ebbing off him with the way he kisses you, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he pulls you into him.

He feels like he can breathe now, like he had been suffocating all this time and all he needed was you to breathe freely. He can’t get enough of you, pulling you so impossibly close you'd think he's trying to merge your bodies until you were both one. Now he's had a taste, he needs all of you, every last bit.

Mattheo's breath is hot against your skin as he pulls back for just a moment, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense, his pupils dilated, and you can see the emotions he's been keeping hidden.

He loves you, and it's written all over his face.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders starting to ease. The corner of your lips curve upwards into a small smile as you look at him, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You hum, and he nods, following your lead.

-•-

You take his hand, interlocking your fingers with his as you navigate through the throngs of people on your way out of the club. It's still loud and crowded, but none of that matters now. There's a calmness between you and Mattheo, a sense of understanding and connection that feels as natural as breathing.

As you step out into the cool Paris night, the change is striking. The noise and chaos of the club fade away, replaced by the soft hum of the city after dark. The streets are quiet, lit by the glow of streetlights and the occasional flash of a passing car. The atmosphere feels surprisingly warm, though you can’t tell whether it's the warmth you feel being with Mattheo that makes it feel that way.

It's like stepping into another world, one where it's just the two of you. You walk side by side, Mattheo's hand warm in yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. It feels so natural, so right that you can't help but wonder what you were doing before this. Everything’s faded into nothingness, there’s nothing that could be more important than Mattheo.

You walk in silence for a few minutes. You admire the views, and Mattheo admires you.

“Are you excited about leaving?” You ask, breaking the silence with your words. Mattheo doesn’t respond for a second, the silence punctuated by the soft clicking of your heels against the cobblestone path.

“Not really.” He says, and you turn to him, raising a brow.

“How come? You seemed more than happy to leave when we first came here.” You jibe as you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door. Just as you unlock the door and push it slightly open, Mattheo wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you inside swiftly. It's so unexpected that you squeal in surprise, and then you're pressed against the door, the wood cool against your back. The lights in the hallway are dim, casting shadows across his face, but you can see the smirk tugging at his lips.

He doesn't give you time to react before he leans in and kisses you, his lips finding yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head just so, deepening the kiss. He kisses you like he can’t get enough of you, a kiss that says he’s right where he belongs. A small sigh escapes your lips, your hands coming up to tangle in his messy curls for the second time that night as you return the kiss. And as he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can feel his breath hot against your skin.

“Because now that I have you in my space,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw, “I won’t let go of you.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the fireplace that crackles away in the room beside you. "Is that a promise?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"More like a guarantee," he replies, his smile widening.

Your smile broadens at his promise, and you can’t help but tease him. “I’m happy to hear that, because I was worried I’d have to tie you down to keep you around.”

Mattheo chuckles, his grin spreading as he leans in for another kiss. It’s soft and playful, but there’s a hunger belying it, like he’s making up for lost time. You giggle as he peppers you with quick kisses, his hands never leaving your waist. The way he holds you is both protective and gentle, as if he’s found something precious and doesn’t plan to let it go.

He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you upstairs as he steals kisses from you. Its messy, and you bump into the wall far too many times. He can't wipe the grin off his face as he pushes the door to your bedroom open. The way you laugh between the kisses, the way you hold onto him, the way you gasp his name when you both almost topple down the stairs.

Everything about you is burnt into the recesses of his mind, a presence so strong the only thing Mattheo knows is you.

But that’s alright with him. Besides, it’s only ever been you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff

369 notes · View notes

bunji-enthusiast · 3 months

Text

One Whole, Became Two

Note || this took me so long to write, but I love this stupid idiot platonically. Chapter three my sleep-deprived folks 👍🏻

WC || 3,312

<(part 1)><(previous part)><(you are here)>

Sypnosis || you bring back a dear old dead heart to a wounded dog.

If someone ever told you that you would’ve come back to a desolate factory full of death and damnation you would tell them that in what world in which would that happen? You never would’ve heeded their words.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You hated being wrong.

Yet, many things may have happened, some of which allowed you to get in some exercise… you also gained some new friends. They are very near and dear to you, despite the small numbers you retain in your ragtag group of allies. You preferred the terminology friends, you’ve gotten close with Kissy Missy and Poppy, even DogDay too!

Speaking of which, this accursed Playcare was still a little too dark for your liking. You needed more power, more light to go the right way necessary. A light chuckle breaks you out of your thoughts, “A-angel, do you need some help?” DogDay inquired, watching as you had tried to remember which way he had pointed to the medical station.

You shook your head egregiously, trying to affirm your belief as you spoke, “I got it… I swear I know which way it is!” Your shoulders slumped as you let out a defeated sigh, having to hate asking him for help.

Asking for help wasn’t necessarily your most favorite thing in the world, in for the most of miniscule of things. You thought it was ridiculous, insipid to do, in no way would you ever ask for said help unless you really were struggling.

Apparently as of right now, these were one of those moments that you were truly struggling, and it was with directions as well. You couldn’t be any more ashamed, “Could you m-maybe tell me where it was again?”

DogDay let out an amused bark, not merely in making fun of you. He thought you were just cute, the way you were embarrassed, though DogDay will never actually admit this feeling to you. “Okay, Angel, you see that sign over there? It points to the direction of the medical station.” Your large companion points to the sign in question, you sorely cannot miss it no way, his paw was big. Actually, it’s nearly the size of your head.

“Ah, focus!”

The pathway was riddled with broken cobblestone and dirt, but do-able to make your way through. You just hated broken paths, no trouble still.

You nod to let him know you saw it, walking over to the sign that was now a few pacings away from you. The silence had now settled in place for the lack of conversation, it was seemingly getting awkward enough as is. Suddenly, a new voice interjects on the radio of your walkie-talkie.

“Oh there you are! I wasn’t able to connect to you on that side of the dome!” His light voice carried an undercurrent of worry. “No ouchies or lost body parts?”

DogDay raised a brow as you two had continued making your way to the medical station. You nodded your head curtly, as if angling your head to signify you’d explain the kid on the radio at a later time. You spoke out in reply, knowing full well you weren’t in any real danger at the moment, “I’m uh, I’m fine Ollie. Just taking care of a friend, they got hurt… real bad.” A wince left your throat at the tone you carried within your words, you didn’t expect that.

A thought rushed into your head, “Why’d I word it like that? I guess I’m just worried about revealing DogDay to Ollie just yet.” DogDay patted your leg as to reassure you, eyes gleaming as if they were smiling down upon you.

“Alright, you can introduce me later,” Ollie paused, as if he were hesitating to get the words out of his mouth. As if something was holding him back from doing so, “Take care of them first then I’ll tell you what to do next. See you!”

Then, the radio was now silent. You let out a breath you held in your lungs, sometimes forgetting to breathe reminds you to even breathe manually. An odd habit but nobody will nitpick that for the life of all there is to know and exist.

An abrupt cough shocked you out of your thoughts, you immediately became concerned for DogDay who had been patiently waiting for your dilemma and conversation to end. You knelt down and checked over his body, “No need to worry.” You lodged his resistance in the back of your head, looking for any external wounds beside the most obvious ones.

“I shouldn’t have stopped.” You murmur, gently picking him up. There was no way you’d let him drag himself along the floor, not until he was in a better state.

“We’re alright Angel,” DogDay sputtered, you were unimpressed, not phased by his words. “Really… but who was that if I may ask?”

Steadily, you continued walking–the stupid medical station finally in reach. “Ollie, apparently sometime after I dropped down here he told me he was an ally of Poppy.” You then trailed off, not sure if you wanted to mansplain the entirety of the story down right to when you came across DogDay. Sighing, you begrudgingly open the door to the station.

The room was messy, akin to the state of many other locations in Playcare. But in your modest opinion, you truly did not care about that. You just really needed to fix up DogDay, and he was the focal point of your attention right now. “Angel, you seemed to be incredibly bothered.”

DogDay shifted on the weight of his body as you began setting him down, if you were being truthful, you couldn’t refute that very fact. Yet you felt too angry to get the words across, “I know, I.. I guess this stupid factory just has me all on edge.”

Then a silence settled into place, as neither of you were unsure of what to say next. Everything and nothing was happening all at the same time. You walked over the ruined carpet, it looked as if it was made in the 1980’s. Some doors seemed to be torn off of it’s hinges, but at least the supplies were barely stolen. There was enough to treat DogDay properly, as much as you can manage within your knowledge anyway.

The hard part would be treating DogDay, (as you unfortunately didn’t have enough knowledge medically) and getting him his legs back so he could walk on his own as well.

Gently, you opened a door to a closet, full of bandages and gauze.

“Perfect timing, guess I didn’t need to look that hard.” You thought to yourself, your hands already grabbing the bandages and gauze. A small smile graced your cracked lips, carrying a genuine air with you, “Hey, DogDay I found some supplies. Looks like they left this place pretty untouched.” You waved at him, holding the aforementioned supplies in hand.

DogDay perked up from where he had been looking at some stray medical papers, most likely files of every patient to come in and out of the station. “Oh!.. Thank you greatly. You really are an angel my friend.” You become bashful at his words, an embarrassed chuckle leaving you as you scratched the back of your head. Standing up you walk back over to the large dog, motioning for DogDay to position himself to where you can get to all the spots correctly.

You sighed, having to take a moment in order to set yourself into focus, this was important. You didn’t want to screw up something so crucial to DogDay’s health, “Ok, This might hurt a little so bear with me.” You warn, crouching down as you laid out the supplies.

“I have no doubt you will do fine!” DogDay encouraged you, settling down to be calmer for you. Fine, yes you can do fine. Okay well enough maybe, you just need to be careful!

Why was this so difficult?

“Stupid brain, Stop giving me all these thoughts!” You groan lowly, setting into place to mend his more major wounds with a contemporary suture. First off, you needed to clean the suture, to which you had quickly done.

You gently pressed a wet rag to the most prominent area, cleaning it out of any debris that might be left behind in the wound. DogDay was simply listening and quiet upon your actions, clearly a little too impressed for your liking. You swabbed the wound with water then threw away the rag a few meters from you, you internally winced at that.

Injuries are a major case for you ever since you stepped foot into this factory, you just never expected to be having to treat another person (or toy for that matter).

“Angel?” You let out a hum in reply, suturing the wound as he spoke. “You seem… incredibly bothered, maybe you should try to talk about it.” DogDay shifted slightly, wincing a little as he had done so. Concern washes over your expression as you went to hold him, he held out a hand to reassure you he was fine.

“Well.”

You sat back on the heel of your foot as you thought about it for a moment, your brows knitted together. It was practically hurting your head, giving you a headache to be thinkin about every little thing that was running through your head.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line, unsure of whether or not to air your concerns. But it seems you weren’t gonna have any other chance to talk about it then right now, you just didn’t wanna dump everything on DogDay all at once.

Practically would seem like a lot. Far too much to say and too little to be sure of.

“I guess I’m just concerned over whether or not I really can trust Poppy,” You signal, having a habit of talking with your hands. “And this, Prototype guy… didn’t you say CatNap worships this thing like a god?”

He nods, “Yes, I didn’t join the Prototype. Which is why he had deemed me a heretic.” You frown at his words, nobody deserves that type of treatment. Making it even worse, you would assume the two used to be very good friends.

“Oh dear,” You echo, recoiling suddenly in embarrassment for voicing something you didn’t realize slipped out of your mouth. DogDay laughs at this, waving his hand as he sits himself upright so as to not slip onto his back, “You are very much correct Angel.” He nods, “If anything, he’s no longer the old CatNap I’ve come to know him as.”

You shrug, a little unsure of the situation right now. Then a thought you finally needed ran across your mind, “Hey, would you happen to remember where your legs are or if… any spare ones laying around anywhere?” You motion around the room as you spoke, voice trailing off as you sat back, and awaiting DogDay’s response. He appeared to be deep in thought, clearly thinking about your question.

“I believe they have some spares in a storage room at this station,” DogDay gestures at the specific door he thought of in mind. “But Angel, I might be wrong. Don’t trouble yourself for my sake beyond this.” His voice strains, as if pleading.

You chewed your lips, nodding your head once more as you headed to the door of origin. You quietly crept into the room, seeing how dark and dank it was. Slowly but surely your eyes had adjusted to the light.

“Now, where are you… stupid legs.” You mutter, taking notice of some poppy gas that laid in wait in the corner, not to mention how badly scratched this room was in particular. Probably the work of CatNap or some other toy. On instinct, your legs drove you forward as you stepped into the gas with a gas mask inset upon your face. You certainly didn’t feel like dying from the gas, or passing out for that matter.

You had a debt to pay.

Your eyes wandered aimlessly as you palmed around for the supposed legs, feeling around for each and every inch possible that you might miss.

Suddenly you felt a fuzzy feeling run up across your arm, you jostled in surprise, a happy squeak leaving your throat when you pick up the legs. “Thank you, sweet baby jesus.” You huff in reprise, feeling accomplished at the place of convenience.

If you could laugh right now, it would be possible, heaven sure as hell wasn’t a place for angels anymore. Not even you, but you still had to follow through, you came here in the first place anyway.

A small sigh left your esophagus as you turned, walking back through as you made careful note not to trip walking back too.

Something had your mind occupied, demons infested this place. Elliot Ludwig had created this place, and if he so proclaims to want to bring joy to thousands upon thousands of children around the world then why would he permit the experiments. All those children and the elderly… your heart couldn’t help but ache at the mere thought.

You shake your head to get your mind out of the unilluminated gutter, DogDay lit up upon seeing you in his sights once more. “Angel, you are alright.” He mentions, paw held to his chest as if he were breathing a sigh of relief.

Your nose was scrunched as you gutted a snort, “You say that like it’s so surprising DogDay.” DogDay shrugs, as if he was now expressing the vulnerability of being embarrassed at the prospect of his own words.

“Ah I’m just joking with you,” You wave him off, DogDay remains silent at this, not having any thought at what to say back to you. You were right though, he shouldn’t be doubting you for what even anyone in particular is worth. Being freed for what feels like the first time in forever had been leaving him with brand new thoughts, even though he had been thinking and left well alone for nearly over a decade now.

One door closes, infinite more are open. One must beware the foreign class, otherwise you may as well see yourself dead.

“I truly do apologize for Poppy’s actions… we all mean well.” DogDay begins, trailing off into nearly an inconceivable silence. You set down the legs, to which DogDay is delighted at this brand new aspect, yet still left without room to be uncouth. You didn’t speak at all, pressing between the fine line of the truth and his own words.

“We must, break the circle.”

What?

“Angel?”

“You all are chained, if whatever happened all those years ago were true…” You sigh, rubbing the nape of your neck as you find yourself in an air of awkwardness. “Then I am also at fault for the way you guys are right now.”

DogDay’s brows drew together, upset that you feel guilty for the entirety of this fortnight. At least it had felt that way for you, you sincerely had lost track of time since your watch had gotten destroyed. You tried keeping up with the time on the clocks you pass by, but you just generally had lost the energy and motion in doing so.

“Hmn.” He muttered to himself, then got up to hug you, which had clearly surprised you as you felt yourself being enveloped and wrapped in a very fluffy hug. You sigh and decompress after a few moments, the shock finally leaving your body.

“Thanks… DogDay,” You motion, patting the fluff resting upon his chest. “I actually really needed that, hugs are a rarity.” You admit, blush burning on your cheeks as you look away from him in a manner of speaking. You hear a chuckle interrupted by a cough, “Don’t thank me, you seemed to really need it Angel. Being exhausted is one thing, but no hugs?”

DogDay drew a paw to his chest as he spoke dramatically, “That is absolutely unacceptable!” Your hand crossed over your mouth, trying to stifle a laugh at what a drama king DogDay was posing as at this very moment.

“You kinda remind me of someone I know.” You motion, then sat on the heels of your feet as you immediately went back to work in fixing up DogDay.

“How so?”

“You're pretty bright, act like a drama king sometimes and you even can be a little mean…” You wag a finger as you see him begin to protest at the mean comment, “I don’t mean like in a rude manner, just like in a brotherly way. You kind of act like a big brother sometimes.” You shrug with a hint of finality, fixing up his other injuries and repairing them with a gentle hand, even if the suture seemed to betray the tremble displayed.

After silence had continuously settled in once again, you sigh, angling at the fact on what to do in order to mend DogDay’s very obvious injury with his lack of legs attached at the bottom of his torso. For a moment, you meander with the decision.

“Right, I’m gonna try my best to reattach them to you.” You spoke with a benign tone, more so displaying your own distrust of yourself. You hated that, you practically hated everything so why is this any different.

You just have to do it scared.

Familiarity reigns over your heart as you see his large paw lay over your own hand, you sigh, sensations shuddering your body as you keep yourself calm. You silently thank DogDay as you gesture that you were okay now, you can be fine on your own.

You push the legs to his upper half, just barely enough that it would appear as if the legs were there and back again already. Your hand wanders over to the middle line, your eyes glaze over with forlorn worry taking your very worried brain. You sigh as you begin stitching, taking careful caution as you notice him flinching quite a few times throughout the process. At a leisurely pace, you notice by the influence you had made by taking care of him how much better he looks physically.

Soon enough, you manage to completely stitch his legs back to right where they belong. “Well done, I knew you could do it Angel!.” DogDay shook with excitement, reassuringly glad at the prospect of being able to actually walk again. You swear you could collapse at the relief, you hold out a finger before you let him get excited any further, “I still need to bandage it all together, extra precaution if you catch my drift.”

Your large dog companion nods in understanding, shifting about so his body parts don't get sore from sitting in one place for too long.

From before, grace was high in patriarchy, now then you were sure it was something high to fall from. You could climb to the top (bottom to be literal) and rip the Prototype off of his high horse, and free all the surviving toys.

You shook your head, trying to calm yourself at the buzzing excitement that had resonated deep-seated into your heart. You quickly went to work on bandaging the middle line of his torso, carefully curating it enough so the bandages would cover the stitches completely.

“There, now we are done and good to go!” You look up at DogDay, offering him a soft smile. “Angel really… thank you so much.” He gestures for you to come closer, so you oblige and go in, suddenly you feel yourself being hugged by unabashed warmth. You yelped as air bloomed across your skin, seeing as you are now in the air quite a few feet off the ground.

DogDay really was hugging you with the whole of his heart, so you melt into his touch, relenting as you found defeat–yet also peace with your furry friend.

#dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime dogday #DogDay #x reader

423 notes · View notes

multific · 1 year

Text

Obsession

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: He had one obsession, you.

Vincent liked the finer things in life.

Food, drinks, clothes, cars our houses, it didn't matter.

To him, quality was the most important.

He became so rich that now he was at a point where he didn't even have the time to spend it.

He was obsessed with fine things. He loved his suits, had a nice collection of only the best.

He was obsessed with cars, old-timers and newer models both parked in his garage.

Vincent was obsessed with his job, it gave him authority, something he always craved.

But lately, his obsession was you.

You being just a normal woman he saw one day, he was confused as to just why he found you to be so enticing.

There was something about you, something he couldn't quite figure out.

He found it weird how a man of his status found himself completely taken by a simple woman.

He wanted to know everything. He needed to know everything.

And he needed to have you.

You were quick to learn that Vincent wasn't the sweet Prince type. Oh, far from it actually.

He was dangerous.

The moment you met him you knew this. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as soon as you saw him.

He was a walking red flag.

But just why did you not run? Why did you find yourself intrigued by him? Why did you say yes every time he whispered sweet things into your ear?

And just why did he have to have that sexy accent?!

The man was a walking red flag, yes, but aparently you were colourblind because you ignored it all.

He was rich, elegant, sexy and dangerous. Truly an awful mix but what could you do?

Your first date was on top of the Eiffel Tower, he rented the entire thing out, just for the two of you.

You tried to figure out if he was romantic or if he just knew how to woo a woman.

Maybe both.

Because when later that night, he dropped you off at yours, he kissed all the way from your shoulder to your neck, making you see stars as he whispered 'You are mine' in the most possessive and sexy way a man could.

Your insides were screaming at you, both from fear and arousal.

Why did he have to be so handsome on top of it all?

It would have been so much easier if he just rude but no, of course not, he had to be a gentleman.

It wasn't until a couple of months of dating that you saw his scary side.

One late afternoon, you went to his office while he was on the phone, he failed to notice you as he yelled into the phone the scariest things one could hear.

Promises of torture and a slow death, his gaze and body language said it all, he wasn't lying.

When he was done, due to anger he smashed the phone to the ground and this is when he noticed you as you jumped a little.

Your eyes locked with his as he cursed at himself in French.

You long forgot why you were in there in the first place.

"I have never seen you so angry, Vincent."

"Mon Amour, I'm so so sorry that you had to see me like that. I prom-"

"Do it again." you said cutting him off as he suddenly froze.

He didn't expect for you to say that, you didn't expect to say that to be fair. He thought you would run and hide or yell at him to never ever look for you.

But you didn’t.

"Something about the anger, you are always so collected and calm for most of the time. Even when you saw the guy flirting with me at the bar, you have never even raised your voice."

"Did you find it... exciting?"

"Yes." your answer was simple and immediate. “Do it again, Vincent.”

“Mon Amour,” He smirked, he knew you would be perfect.

Vincent truly found his other half in you. His obsession turned into love but his possessive tendencies never faltered.

Even if you were only a simple woman with a boring job, you had no idea of the power you held in your hands, you had the great Marquis wrapped all around your little finger.

And on the other hand, you had the most expensive diamond wrapped around your ring finger.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

@l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

1K notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months

Text

Gravity Wins

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: The walls around here are too thin, and Capa can't seem to mind his own business.

Warnings: Smut, changes to several minor aspects of canon, alcohol/drinking (not related to the smut), mentions of vibrators, sexual frustration, masturbation (f), slight voyeurism, teasing, biting, quiet sex, and my obvious fixation on Capa's arms

A/N: In the words of Jayne Cobb... I'll be in my bunk. This was the winner of my "Bad Summary WIPs" poll. I had originally intended for "Gravity Wins" to be a working title that I would change later, but uh, it did win, so I'm keeping it lol. Happy Capa Month! 🥰

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Life aboard Icarus II had its charms. The views were unlike anything else; the oxygen garden was truly breathtaking; and the ship itself was pleasantly quaint, in a close-knit kind of way. Most of the time, at least. Sometimes, that same pleasant quaintness had a habit of dissolving into claustrophobia; the tight quarters and lack of privacy suddenly surrounding you on all sides.

That’s why it was important to find small moments of joy where you could, to pass the time. And that’s why you were currently in the canteen, with Cassie and Corazon squeezed in on either side of you, passing around a bottle of contraband vodka.

It was cheap stuff; strawberry flavored. Not necessarily what you would have picked to drink, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and Cassie - god love her - had always had terrible taste in booze. Still, it got the job done. And getting to spend a night gossiping and getting a little tipsy every once in a while was just enough to break up the daily routine and keep the three of you from going mad.

Only three months into the mission, and your one bottle was already two-thirds empty. It was going to be a long flight.

“Y’know what I miss?” Cassie sighed, shoulders loose as she passed the bottle over to you. “Pizza.”

You took a swig - the cheap, artificial taste of fruit mixing terribly with the burn of alcohol - and passed the bottle on. Corazon slouched forward on the table.

“Don’t talk about food, Cassie. Please,” she whined.

It wasn’t as if you were starving, but the bare-bones, monotonous rotation of meals you all ate while onboard the ship left a lot to be desired. You could feel your mouth watering just at the thought of something besides the same old efficient, nutritionally-dense meals you’d been eating for weeks now.

“I miss ice cream,” you jumped in.

Corazon groaned and took a sip of the vodka, rubbing her head.

“Enough already,” she begged.

“Fine then, Cora - what do you miss?” asked Cassie, reaching across your little circle to take the bottle back. She tipped it against her lips, taking a quick sip.

“My vibrator,” answered the biologist.

You and Cassie burst into laughter; high-pitched giggles bouncing off the walls of the cramped space.

“I’m serious,” laughed Cora, nudging your shoulder.

“Oh, I believe you - I miss mine, too,” Cassie admitted.

You hummed in agreement. It was a long journey, and until you’d stepped foot on the ship, you really hadn’t anticipated all the small comforts of home you would miss. If getting off could be considered a comfort.

“Here’s the real question though,” said Cassie, pointing the bottle at each of you in turn. “Would you fuck any of the guys?”

“On the ship?” you asked.

“You see any other guys around?” Cassie laughed.

You joined her, feeling the hot flush of alcohol rise on your cheeks.

“What about Mace?” Cora offered.

“Too angry.” Cassie scrunched her nose.

“Sure, he’s hot-headed - but with guys, sometimes that means he’s a good fuck.”

Another round of laughter echoed after Corazon’s remark.

“Harvey?” you suggested, narrowing your eyes. Watching to see if either of the other women’s faces betrayed a genuine reaction.

“Kind of stuck-up,” Cora commented.

The group agreed, and lapsed into silence. The bottle made another round, and you felt yourself starting to tip past the point of a slight buzz.

“How ‘bout Capa?” Cassie asked.

“Maybe if he wasn’t such a dick,” Cora scoffed.

You snorted, then scrambled to control your expression.

“I think he’s kinda hot,” Cassie ventured.

A chorus of oooohs made their way around the table; Cassie waving them off.

“But I wouldn’t sleep with him,” she insisted. “Seems like the kind of guy to make himself come and then roll over.”

Corazon laughed sharply and then turned to face you.

“What about you, huh?” she asked, voice lowering. “Would you let Capa teach you all about physics and where he can stick ‘em?”

Before you had a chance to tease Cora about being so buzzed that she couldn’t even come up with a half-sensical sex joke about physics, the party was broken up by the arrival of a fourth person. Speak of the devil himself.

Capa glanced over at the three of you as he walked in, pausing to quietly open a cupboard and pull something out. Cora ignored him. Cassie took a swig of the vodka. And you quickly averted your eyes, looking down at your lap as your face burned.

“What are you all giggling about?” Capa droned.

“Nothing,” Cora snapped, a little harsher than was necessary.

Capa’s eyes narrowed, landing on the vodka. There was a moment of rigid silence.

“You know there’d be trouble if the captain found out about that,” he commented.

It wasn’t exactly a threat, but it wasn’t exactly a harmless observation either. Cassie stood up and slouched over to him, pressing the bottle against his chest. You were watching out of the corner of your eye, still too embarrassed to meet anyone’s gaze.

“But you wouldn’t tell on us - right, Capa?” Cassie asked sweetly.

She was a little too drunk for her own good, and you felt a quick bolt of tension in your stomach. Capa gave each of you a questioning look, impossible to tell what he was thinking as he backed off and walked out the way he’d come in.

“Just keep it down in here,” he muttered.

Once he was out of earshot, Cassie sat down, and the three of you shared a shy laugh of relief. Corazon instantly broke the tension.

“See? What’d I say? He’s a dick.”

The next morning, you woke up groggier than you should have. After Capa’s interruption, the vodka bottle was quickly put away, hidden in Cassie’s bunk for another night. You hadn’t really had too much to drink, but the minor shame of getting caught mixed with the shitty vodka was enough to make you feel thrown off.

You shuffled out of bed, slipping into a pair of sandals after pulling on your pants. You shrugged into a shirt and ran a tired hand over your face.

On your way to the bathroom, Harvey stopped you. You only had the energy to listen to about half of what he was saying, still feeling grumpy and with a sour taste in your mouth. He was talking to you about some report; asking why it hadn’t been submitted in triplicate. You clenched your jaw, really not having the patience to deal with him right now.

You promised Harvey you’d re-file your report, and walked away before he could rope you into any more conversation. Cora’s assessment of him was accurate, you thought. Stuck-up.

As you walked, your thoughts wandered back to how the night had ended. Or, more accurately, to what had happened just before you’d been interrupted by the very topic of your conversation. Capa. You had been about to open your mouth to answer Cora’s question about him… or, not answer. You had actually been planning to make a joke and shift the attention away from yourself, specifically so that you wouldn’t have to give a straight yes or no. Because, of course, you didn’t want either of the other girls to know-

“Hey, wait up!”

A voice behind you caused you to jump. You turned to see Cassie, already catching up behind you, oddly chipper considering that she’d been the one drinking more of the vodka than anybody last night.

“Hey, Cas.”

She fell into step beside you, easily keeping up with your sluggish pace. You tried to straighten up and match her energy, but it was hard to when all you wanted to do was crawl back in bed.

“Harvey just stopped me in the hallway,” Cassie told you. “Said something about getting you to file a report? I just wanted to warn you; he seemed pissed.”

Great - now Harvey was sending your friends after you.

“Yeah, we already talked about it,” you muttered.

“You okay?” Cassie asked. “You look miserable.”

You felt miserable. And not just because of last night. For the past few weeks, you’d felt off. Moody. Unfocused. You'd been trying to push through it, but you felt yourself losing ground, and you were frustrated.

It was partly to be expected - at least according to Searle, the ship’s de facto therapist, who you had talked to about your problems a few days ago. Space travel was taxing on the body, and sometimes doubly so on the mind. You felt cooped up, and getting mildly drunk with Cassie and Corazon only provided a temporary distraction.

“Cabin fever?” Cassie guessed.

“Something like that,” you agreed.

Cassie sighed. “Cora was right. We all really need to get laid.”

“Cassie!”

You hissed her name, spinning around to check that no one was behind you eavesdropping. The last thing you needed was a repeat of last night.

“Relax - I’m not saying I’ll fuck you, so don’t get all excited,” Cassie joked. “But she is right. It gets to you, after a while.”

It certainly did, and you could attest to that fact. Last night it had seemed almost funny; giggling with your friends over missing your vibrators. But the truth was, three long months into your journey, you were already starting to go stir crazy from a life of near-celibacy.

“Maybe you just need to blow off some steam.” Cassie prodded, not letting up.

“Cas, no offense, but can we not discuss my sex life until I've been awake for at least twenty minutes?”

“What sex life?” Cassie laughed, a little too loudly, and you hurried to shush her again. “I'll shut up,” she promised, continuing on, “but all I'm saying is you look like you could use it.”

With one more conspiratorial giggle, she left, walking ahead of you down the bright hallway. You groaned inwardly, knowing she was right but also that there was nothing you could do about it.

You went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on your face.

The day seemed to drag on worse than it ever had. You tried to remind yourself to be grateful; that you were lucky enough to have been selected as a member of the small crew in the first place, and that your mission was important to the fate of mankind. But it all felt so trivial when you couldn't focus on anything other than the building feeling of dissatisfaction that ached between your legs.

Talking about Capa last night really hadn't helped things. He was all you could think about as you tried in vain to get your work done. Twice, you caught yourself making mistakes in your calculations as your mind started to drift elsewhere.

What gave him the right to walk around in those tank tops, showing off his perfect arms and chiseled shoulders - that's what you wanted to know. And why did he even have such sexy arms to begin with? He was a physicist, for god's sake. He sat in his lab all day doing nothing that should have given him such infuriatingly noticeable forearm definition.

Capa had a habit of putting his hands on his hips or in his pockets while he talked, and of running his fingers over his lips when he was thinking. Somehow, everything he did seemed to make a couple of thin veins poke just below his skin, as if to tease you into thinking what he'd look like holding you up against a wall. These were all little things you had noticed - found it impossible not to, actually - and they drove you crazy. Being cooped up was one thing, but being cooped up with Robert Capa was a whole other problem.

Cora was right, though. He was unapproachable at best and actively self-isolating at worst. Capa was the pariah of the crew, and whether or not he intended to be, acting that way made him come across as kind of rude. But to you, that only added to the appeal. The idea of getting with a guy who was so aloof made your fantasies run wild.

That night, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You slipped into your small room, dimmed the lights to thirty percent power, and shrugged out of your shirt and pants.

This was nothing you hadn't done before; it wasn't exactly groundbreaking stuff to masturbate when you were horny. For weeks now, though, it hadn’t really been enough to scratch the itch that seemed to grab hold of you whenever you were around Capa. But it dulled the ache, and for now that was the best you could hope for.

Your bed was more of a bunk, recessed partially into the wall. You laid down on the springy mattress and sighed as your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear. You were still in your panties and bra, feeling self conscious about stripping all the way down even though you were alone in your room.

It felt like everybody was living right on top of each other, although luckily your dorm was at the very end of a row, so you only had a neighbor on one side. Unfortunately, that one neighbor just so happened to be Capa.

Knowing that he was so physically close only added to your frustration as your fingers swept over your clit. But still, it wasn’t like you had a choice about Capa being in the room next to you, and you certainly didn't have anywhere else to do this. Your fingers trailed lower, over your core, and you gasped.

You were already wet. Of course you were; after doing nothing but daydreaming about Capa for practically the entire day, how could you not be? You pictured his face from last night; how he had briefly looked at each one of you as you’d sat around the table with your two friends. The rush that it sent through your veins was electric. Your cheeks felt hot as you imagined him, his eyes holding slight disappointment while he looked at you.

You weren't sure why that turned you on, but it did. You wanted him to look at you with that soft little frown; his blue eyes piercing through you as if they could see every dirty fantasy that played out behind your own eyelids.

You sped up, using your fingers to collect some of the wetness that eagerly pooled between your legs, and then bringing them back up to rub at your clit. Slow circles at first, and then desperate with more pressure. Your mattress squeaked, and you hissed, bringing the hand that wasn't touching yourself down to grab at the cotton sheets.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, careful to stay as quiet as you could.

The only sound in the room aside from your moans was the wet noise that greeted you as you stuck two fingers into yourself, not bothering to warm up with just one. You needed this. You needed more, but this was the best you were getting. You curled your fingers, arching your back and daring to let a whisper of his name cross your lips.

A few seconds later, you were stopped by a knock at your door.

You barely had time to pull your fingers out, scrambling to sit up and cover yourself with a blanket as your door slid open. There were no locks, which usually wasn't a problem, except of course at times like this when it really reminded you that you had absolutely no privacy.

You were expecting Cassie - she had a habit of barging in, instead of waiting for you to answer her knock. But instead, you were greeted again by the very face you had been picturing only seconds ago.

“Capa?”

Your voice felt strangely small in the cramped space. Capa stepped through the door, letting it hiss closed behind him. His face was expressionless, except for the barest hint of that pout that drove you so crazy.

He didn’t answer right away, but took a step closer and leaned up against the wall that separated his room from yours. Then, his lips curled into a smile.

“You really don’t realize how thin these walls are, do you?”

The implication of his words crept up on you, until finally your face was frozen in a look of sheer horror.

“How much did you hear?” you asked, voice just barely above a whisper.

“Enough.” Capa shifted his weight, pushing himself off of the wall to stand up. “Enough to figure out the answer to that question Corazon asked you last night.”

“You heard that, too?” you groaned.

Capa walked over and sat down on the edge of your bed. Not touching you yet or getting too close, but hovering just out of reach in a way that made your skin tingle and your heart do flips. You had no clue if he was torturing you or inviting you to make the next move.

“D’you always think about me when you touch yourself?” Capa asked, bringing the volume of his voice down to match yours.

He sounded so sexy like that. He must have known what he was doing to you; his eyes were practically glowing with mirth and his lips were still curled into that smile. You shifted uncomfortably.

“I’d… rather not answer that,” you choked out.

Capa’s eyes darkened. No answer was as much of an affirmation as admitting it.

“You should have just asked for my help,” Capa teased. “You obviously need something. And it’s not like I’m twiddling my thumbs over there. Cumming into my own hand got old weeks ago.”

Your whole face burned hot with embarrassment at what he was admitting. And yet, at the same time, you shivered. The blanket you’d haphazardly thrown over yourself only covered your waist, and your bare shoulders were suddenly prickled with goosebumps.

Finally, Capa reached out and put a warm hand on your shoulder, then dragged it down the side of your arm, taking your bra strap with it.

“Want me to touch you?” he asked.

His voice was low, and you could feel yourself getting pulled down with it. You knew that it would be stupid to do this; sleeping with Capa could only open a Pandora’s box. If it was good, you wouldn’t be able to get off on your own fingers for the rest of your time on the ship. If it was bad, you still had years to spend cramped up together. Your room right next to his in the already-tight quarters. It wasn’t as if you’d be able to avoid him after an awkward hook-up.

Suddenly, though, you realized that you were thinking way too much.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Capa’s hand trailed farther down your arm; grabbed your wrist. You bit your cheek, wary of making any more noises after his earlier comment. All the crew’s quarters were laid out close together; if you were too loud, the whole ship would hear.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” Capa hummed, bringing you close as he leaned in, his lips practically brushing against yours. That seemed like a good enough place to start as any.

“K-kiss me - please,” you whimpered.

Capa’s lips found yours, and the rush that surged through you was almost overwhelming. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, and the press of his slightly chapped lips against yours was doing more to you than it should have.

Your mouth opened, and his tongue instantly pushed in. He was moving slow, but with a hunger that sent your mind racing with thoughts of what he could do to you if you asked. You felt Capa’s breath against your face; heard the low moan that vibrated through both of you as it came from the depths of his chest.

“What else?” Capa urged, pulling away. “We both know that’s not all you want.”

You could hardly think straight, much less put together a sentence. Instead, you guided his hand to your chest, and felt as his fingers squeezed. As he did, he leaned back in for another kiss.

You had put Capa’s hand over your bra, but he quickly slipped it under the fabric to rake over your bare skin. His fingers pressed into you, kneading at delicate flesh. You moaned, opening your mouth against his kiss again, and he bit hungrily at your lips.

“So soft,” he murmured, flicking a thumb over your nipple. “But that’s not where you really want me to touch…”

His voice was airy, even as he gripped at you with an intensity that almost hurt. He lowered his rough hand from your breast, and pushed past the blanket still draped over your legs. Teasing at the hem of your panties for only a second, he deepened the kiss as his fingers pushed lower and lower. Finally, he reached the wetness that was still pooling between your legs.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he groaned. You felt your cheeks heat up again. “You really want it that badly?”

“Fuck, Capa,” you whined.

“Want me to touch you like this?” he teased, voice still husky as he pressed one finger into you.

He had barely pushed in the pad of his fingertip, and you were already sinking into the mattress, unable to hold yourself up. Capa added a second finger, then repositioned himself, squeezing into the too-small bed with you to hover over your frame as his fingers roamed deeper.

“Yes - just like that,” you begged. “Don't stop.”

Capa curled his fingers inside you, and you opened your mouth in a silent gasp. Your eyes had squeezed shut, and when you opened them again, you saw him looking pleased with himself, gazing down at you as you lost your mind over his touch.

“Bet you've thought about me doing this,” he whispered. “Isn't that right?”

“Yes-” Your voice hitched. “Yes- ah- thought about- cumming on your fingers.”

Capa smirked and brought his lips to your ear.

“You're not gonna cum on my fingers.”

He pulled them out of you, and you groaned at the loss. You felt his stubble scrape your cheek as he got up off of you, and you watched, half in a trance, as he took off his boxers. You hadn't even noticed until now, but he was just in his underwear and a t-shirt. He pulled the shirt off, too, and then went about removing the last of your clothes.

You suddenly had the urge to cover yourself; like you now had too much on display even though Capa had already been watching your face twist in pleasure while he was knuckle-deep in you. You brought your arms up to cover your chest, but Capa gently brushed them away.

“Don't be shy; it's nothing I haven't already imagined,” he winked.

Again, the implications had you almost slack-jawed. You had no idea if it was true or if he was just teasing you, but you really didn't care.

“Let me show you what I've thought about,” Capa went on.

He took your hand and brought it to his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around it. He sighed a little as you touched him, softly, and the sound sent another shiver down your spine.

“C’mon - wanna feel you,” Capa said, his eyes half-hooded. “Use your hand. Squeeze me.”

Your heart fluttered as you followed his instructions; tightening your grip on his shaft until he was groaning above you. You gave him a few tentative pumps.

“So good,” Capa groaned.

The dull ache had returned between your legs; you were still missing the touch of his fingers. Even though you were happy to touch him as well, you needed the friction. You started to squirm, rubbing your legs together.

“Impatient,” Capa laughed. “Don't worry - m’not gonna tease you too much longer.”

His mouth dipped to your neck, pressing a kiss along your collarbone. Your hand flexed, and Capa groaned deeply again. The sound was enough to send you reeling; you thought you might come from his voice alone if he didn't hurry up.

“Stop teasing,” you begged. Breathless, and fully aware of just how desperate you sounded.

“I guess we've both waited long enough, huh?” Capa chuckled.

Your hand relaxed, and Capa’s came up to guide himself, hovering right at the space where you wanted him, but not pushing in just yet.

“Be quiet now,” Capa reminded you, and he kissed you as he started to press in. “Wouldn’t want anybody to hear you.”

You would have cried out, not caring who heard you or how loud you were, had Capa's lips not been pressed roughly against yours, swallowing your muffled moan as he bottomed out. He pulled back to watch you, panting like a dog beneath him, and smirked again.

“Fuck, this is so much better than my hand,” he said, breathing a little heavy himself. “M’not gonna last long.”

The idea sent your head spinning all over again, and your legs squeezed his hips a little tighter. The thought of Capa, coming too quick as he buried himself inside you, turned you on so much that you moaned out loud, and Capa quickly slapped a hand over your mouth. His palm was rougher than you'd imagined it.

“Told you to be quiet,” he warned.

When he started to move, you were grateful for the hand covering your lips, because without it you certainly would have woken the whole crew. As it was, Capa had to press his palm a little harder to muffle the moans that escaped. You were shameless; couldn't think about anything but the way his cock was stretching you out and spearing into you. It was more than enough to make you forget where you were.

“Not that I don't normally love hearing you get off,” Capa whispered, “but if you keep doing that, we're gonna get caught.”

Had he heard you the other times you'd touched yourself? You thought of him, silently palming his cock in the next room over, listening to your soft moans and breathy sighs as you tried - and failed - to stay quiet.

Capa, unlike you, still had control of his voice; never letting it rise above a whisper. You wished you could hear him - how you were really making him feel. You bet he would make the prettiest noises if he'd let himself.

“Gonna be good?” Capa asked as he sped up.

You nodded, and he removed his hand. Instantly, the way his cock hit a spot deep inside of you made you hiss with pleasure, teeth clenched as you fought to stay quiet.

“Fuck, Capa - driving me crazy,” you breathed.

“I know,” he agreed. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

“Mm-hmm…”

“If you can stay quiet, then you can cum on my cock.”

The way it felt like he was giving you permission sent another wave of heat through your whole body. You wanted to come for him. The feeling that had been steadily building now felt like it was nearly about to flow out of you; you could so easily let yourself fall over into oblivion.

“Can’t stay quiet,” you whined. “God, you feel so- ah!”

You gasped as Capa’s cock twitched inside of you, his hips continuing to swirl against yours. He was almost there, too; you could feel it. And the realization only pushed you closer.

“Shit,” Capa swore.

He was clearly at odds with himself, over whether to cover your mouth again so that the two of you wouldn’t get caught, or give in and let you scream for him. His hips faltered, and you moaned again. He was running out of time to make a decision.

“Bite down on my shoulder,” he said, finally. “Fuck - I’m gonna come.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You had thought very often about what it would be like to sink your teeth into his skin. Seeing even an inch of it peeking out from behind the collar of his shirt or on display in one of those fucking tank tops was enough to drive you crazy. You bit down, just in time as you finally let yourself give in to the building pressure.

As you bit him, Capa swore again, and scrambled to pull out of you, as best he could with your bodies still pressed together. He was coming, white ropes painting your stomach as you came down from your own high.

You wished you had gotten to squeeze him more. The idea of him emptying into you as you milked his cock was almost too good to imagine. As your senses returned, you realized that Capa was speaking to you.

“So… Did you enjoy me teaching you about physics?” He was panting, but there was still light in his voice as he teased you, echoing Cora’s words from last night.

“Stooop,” you protested.

“If you didn’t, we don’t have to do this again,” Capa teased.

“Noo,” you mewled, voice still weak from your orgasm. “Can’t go back to fucking my fingers now…”

“Yeah,” Capa agreed, bringing his lips down for another rough kiss. “Me neither.”

The next night, Cassie proposed taking out the vodka again, and the three of you met in the canteen, as usual. Prepared for another late night of gossiping.

“You seem brighter today,” Cassie noticed, facing you.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m feeling a little better.”

You left it at that. You weren’t sure how long you and Capa could keep your new arrangement a secret, but you also weren’t rushing to tell the girls. The bottle of vodka made its first round, and the three of you started to speculate about which member of your small crew was most likely using up all the hot water. You’d all been taking freezing cold showers for weeks.

Only a few minutes passed before Capa came sauntering into the room again. Just like last time, he glanced at your group before reaching up to get something out of a cabinet.

“You three never learn, do you?” he commented.

You felt your cheeks start to heat up again. His eyes focused on you, briefly, and then moved on to something else. Cassie puffed up, straightening in her seat as she faced him.

“Go away, Capa,” she huffed. “This is a private conversation.”

Capa came over to lean on the table, glaring down at your small group.

“Oh yeah, I’m so interested in your riveting conversations about how I get off and roll over.”

Cassie’s face turned red. Corazon glared at him. And you felt your soul fully exit your body.

“You were eavesdropping on us?” Cassie shrieked.

“No - you just weren’t being quiet,” Capa corrected.

“The walls here are too damn thin,” Cora muttered.

Capa had a small smile as he straightened up and walked off, pausing just before he exited the room. He turned around, staring blankly at Cassie as he spoke.

“I’m not upset or anything,” he said. “And besides, your friend over there knows it’s not true, so…”

He left, taking with him all the air in the room. Cassie and Cora stared at each other, eyes wide in disbelief, and then pointed their gaze at you.

“You fucked Capa?!” Cassie shouted.

“Cassie, hush,” Cora snapped. She leaned in. “But seriously, we need all the details. Spill.”

You buried your face in your hands, trying in vain to hide your embarrassment. Your two friends badgered you relentlessly, begging for the whole story behind how it happened.

Somewhere else in the ship, Capa smirked.

#robert capa x reader #robert capa smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #robert capa #LemmyFics

352 notes · View notes

belovedwhore · 1 year

Text

pretty boy pt 2

ethan landry x reader

warnings: little bit of plot, smut obv, fingering, “dry” humping, ethan lowkey sub

notes: here’s a part 2, it’s high key shit but imma post it anyways, this will prolly be a series of the reader basically hooking up with ethan since he’s all virgin and innocent etc so they’ll always be smut and sex eventually, just building up to it

as always lmk if you like it and if there’s anything else you’d like me to write abt ethan i am open to prompt suggestions

pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3 , pt 4 , pt 5 , pt 6

————————————————————————

after successfully sneaking out of the room and rejoining the others you all left the party. strolling on the sidewalk alongside chad and mindy you realized that sam, tara’s sister, had joined our group during some point in the night and her and tara were screaming at each other at this moment. the argument got cut short as a group of girls walked by sam, one throwing her drink on her along with a string of rude, degrading remarks regarding her theorized part in the woodsboro murders. time to go fucking home you thought. after what felt like forever you guys arrived to the apartment where you all decided to sleep. mindy and anika were sleeping on the couch together and sam was gonna room with their roommate quinn, leaving you and tara in her bedroom and chad and ethan in sam’s. as the two of you went into the room to change into comfier clothes you filled her in our the events of your nights.

“wait you’re telling me the whole time you were gone you were hooking up with ethan,” tara asked truly shocked.

“yes i’m just as surprised as you are,” you laughed pulling on the sleeveless white crop top to go with your pink pajama shorts.

“and i also have a favor to ask t.”

“oh god what is it,” she answered curiously.

“will you share a bed with chad so i can share one with ethan please please pleaseeee,” you begged playfully on your knees, “cmon i know you’ve liked chad for a while now now’s your chance.”

“oh yea like this is about me and not your desperate desire for dick.”

“hey the heart wants what it wants,” you shrugged.

“fine. go over to sams room and send chad over and please try not to be loud,” she gave in.

“thank you thank you thank youuuuu,” you exclaimed pulling your friend into a hug.

“yea yea get outta here sex demon,” she playfully shoved you off.

you left tara’s room and crossed the hall, letting yourself into sam’s room as you flung the door open to find the two boys sitting on the bed together.

“bye chad you’re sleeping in tara’s room,” you smiled waving goodbye.

“huh” he questioned.

ethan simply looked at you dumbfounded.

“you heard me the first time now love you bye,” you chirped as you held out the door for him.

“yea fuck you,” he chirped back leaving while flicking you off.

after he left you closed the door, locked it, and jumped into bed alongside ethan who was already bright red blushing.

“hey pretty boy.”

“h-hi.”

he was still nervous around you as if you didn’t cum all over his fingers and he didn’t cum all over your stomach.

“you don’t have to be so shaky you know, i think we’re past all that after tonight,” you said, “are you like this everytime you hookup with someone?”

“I’ve never hooked up with anyone before” he whispered almost to hide the fact.

“no way, you’re ripped and hot and your fingers work pretty good for someone who doesn’t get with other girls,” you inquired.

“tonight was my first type of anything, i’ve never had a,” he says hushed, “handjob before.”

“huh no wonder you came so much,” you spoke aloud.

“shhhh they might hear you,” he pleaded.

you climbed slightly on his chest, bringing your face to his now red with shyness, “you’re cute when you’re embarrassed, of course there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. i liked tonight.”

you kissed him passionately, slow while your lips molded together and this time his tongue parted your lips to enter into your mouth. you moaned into the kiss, for someone who’s never hooked up with anyone he was good. you felt ethan’s hands travel to the curve of your ass, massaging the skin as you could feel his growing member underneath your body. you traced his abs with your hand, running through the ridges and toying with his waistband. you felt his hips buck under your touch and the size of his dick was so enticing but you didn’t want to have sex with him now you wanted to show him other things.

you broke away from the kiss, looking at his big brown eyes licking your lips, “i wanna try something with you.”

you turned over so you were facing the wall and you could practically hear ethan’s confusion, not hearing his side of the bed shift.

“ethan c’mere right up behind me i’m sure you know how to cuddle someone,” you teased.

“oh yeah yeah i knew that,” he rambled while shifting closer to you in the center of the bed.

you felt him getting closer the closer until he stopped still an inch of two away. you backed up until your back was flushed against his own. you turned back and kissed him at the slightly awkward angle. as your lips were intertwined you brought his arm over your body and into your panties. you squirmed at the feeling of his fingers near you cunt once again as he shuddered from the feeling of touching your cunt again. breaking the kiss you looked down at the two hands massaging your mound,

“look ethan,” you whispered, “you gotta look.”

he obeyed your command as you felt his head next to yours as he assumed the same view as you. you guided his hand through your pussy, gliding through the folds as you grew wetter and around your clit as it grew swollen. wanting to leave him on his own you withdrew your hand and asked him, “do you wanna play with my pussy or should we just go to sleep.”

your dirty words really took a toll on his composure. he groaned in your ear hearing you words nodding against your skin.

“you have to say it ethan,” you turned breathless as he was still massaging your clit, “can’t hear you.”

“wanna-,” he whispered, “play with your pussy.”

“good-,” you began to speak but were interrupted by a gasp as his fingers entered your cunt suddenly.

he fingered you rapidly, his knuckles hitting the base of your cunt with his fingers curling to repeatedly press on your bundle of nerves. with every pound into your cunt you felt ethan’s length pressed against your ass, moved to the same rhythm as his fingers trying to relieve some pressure.

“slo-slow down, just a minute” you cooed into his ear.

“i can feel your dick rubbing against my ass,” you teased as you grinded on his strained length.

he grunted at the pressured contact finding him continuing the movements while you grinded on him.

“there you go, now you speed up, i speed up ok, at your pace.”

you felt him nod behind you, his head against your back as you helped him relieve pressure in his cock. you felt him beginning to work his fingers inside you again, slowly building up speed, so you picked up speed grinding harder and faster onto his dick. the two of you moaned and panted as the other pleasured you, fingers ramming into your cunt and your ass working his clothed cock in his boxers. you slightly lifted your leg allowing for ethan to hit a whole nother angle, slamming into your pussy at an unfathomed speed you froze and gasped as your climax quickly approached.

“oh my- ethan fuck-,” and just as the words left your mouth your orgasm completely ripped through you, shooting your release onto his fingers and inside your panties as you clenched around his fingers inside of you. you were breathless unable to let out a string of profanities only saying ethan’s name as you came shamelessly.

you turned over quickly kissing him passionately as you climbed onto his lap sitting right in top of his length, still sensitive from your orgasm you began to move forward and backwards on his crotch. his dick sat in between your fabric covered lips but it was enough for him to shake under your touch. he moaned as you ran over the length of his cock with your cunt, squirming above him as you were reaching another high of your own. you placed his hands on your hips, using them to guide your pace,

“use me pretty boy,” you urged, removing your hands from atop his own.

you felt his grip tighten on your hips and he began using his hands on your hips, moving you forwards and backwards. he grunted and bucked his hips up as your pussy worked his cock. seeing you on top of him, moaning as you aided him in his release and got yourself off was enough to make him cum right then and there. he started to move you faster on his lap, approaching his own orgasm. you could feel his dick twitching under you, sure to spill out a load very soon,

“i’m so close,” he grunted, now moving your hips fast over his cock, “i’m gonna-“

“wait,” you interrupted, “i-i’m almost there hold it, for me please.”

“i don’t- i can’t ,” he strained, eyes screwed shut.

you leaned down and pressed a quick, lingering kiss to his lips and moaned, “cmon pretty boy, for me.”

sitting back up he viciously nodded under you, his dick straining by the second as you worked for your own release. he whimpered under you, feeling the effects of withholding his orgasm. lucky for him you finally got closer and closer as your movements sloppied and you became a moaning mess.

“i’m- oh fuck,” you told him as you felt your second orgasm hit you like a truck.

“fuck me,” ethan nearly shouted, letting out a grunt as he came hard under you.

you squirmed on his lap as he convulsed beneath you, gripping your hips and holding you in place, continuing applied pressure to his cock while he orgasmed. he shook beneath you, eyes closed, forehead sweaty. after settling down he opened his eyes finally, still panting heavily after his intense orgasm. you climbed off his lap and lay beside him watching as he calmed down.

“you’re amazing,” he told you breathlessly, “just amazing.”

“and you’re still so pretty when you cum,” you smiled.

“shhh,” he shushed.

“oh please,” you scoffed as you hit him with a throw pillow.

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream fanfic #smut #scream #ethan landry x reader #ghostface

1K notes · View notes

awritessomething · 1 month

Note

Can I request a Dallas Liu's Zuko angst? The reader tries helping Zuko, and his anger gets the best of him, causing the reader to run away. He chases after her after realizing his mistake. Fluff at the end, please and thank you!

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 | dallas liu!zuko x fem!reader

Requests Masterlist

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Zuko is trying to train. His aim is off, so his girlfriend tries to give him unwanted advice.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | angst, pre-established relationship, zuko accidentally burns her, pet names (baby, love), fluff at the end.

I wrote this yesterday and it didn’t save. Anyways I have no motivation and I just got broken up with so mb on slow updates

Zuko was a man who was never too good at controlling his anger. He took it out on most people around him, yet he did his very best not to take it out on his girlfriend. She was the only person who he believed was truly just there to love him.

On a particularly hard day after Aang got away once again, Zuko was training on the ship. He was struggling with his aim which was rare. He had been going for hours and hours. He looked exhausted. Y/N walked over to him.

Her hand lightly touched his arm. He gave a grunt of acknowledgment. She sighed from the lack of recognition, but she still took it.

“Zuko, love, take a break,” she whispered. His bicep flexed under her hand, showing his annoyance. “Just for a minute. If you’re just angry then you wont be able to get it.”

Zuko glared at her and took in a sharp inhale as he tried to calm himself down for a second. He showed no interest whatsoever in stopping. Her hand slid down his arm to touch his hand.

“Five minutes, Zuko. It’ll hel-”

“Stop it. I don’t need your help! You’re not a fire bender, so what do you know?” Zuko growled as he yawned his arm away from her. Y/N winced and stumbled backwards, looking down at her wrist. “Just… go and sip tea with my uncle or something.”

Y/N stayed silent and then nodded, walking away quickly. She was holding onto her wrist. She did indeed go and drink tea with Zukos uncle. He was a good man. Zuko was out on the deck of the ship for a few more hours. His mind was filled with thoughts of Y/N at this point though.

He took a seat on the side of the ship where there was a small spot to sit. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. Zuko thought back to the way he talked to Y/N earlier and he dropped his head into his hands. Total guilt.

Zuko thought back to what had been said. He thought of the quiet insults that he had muttered afterwards. Then he thought of the pained look on her face. He had no clue what had happened to make her look that way.

A few short moments later, Zuko left his seat and walked over to where he knew that she would likely be. He knocked lightly on the door before going in. It only took a few seconds for his eyes to land on her. She was sitting on a small couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and a book rested in her hands.

“Y/N?” Zuko said her name cautiously as he walked over to her. She glanced up and gave him a small smile. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice was quieter than normal.

“Hm? Oh, no. I understand. Its fine.”

“Come on, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he kneeled in front of her and took the book from her hands. Zuko set it aside and then held onto her hands. She pulled her hands away. Zuko frowned. “I didn’t mean to yell. I was just frustrated.”

“I know, Zuko. Its fine,” she said again and gave him another smile. He could see that she was partially lying and it pained him. His hand moved slightly and pushed up her sleeve. After she had left Zuko alone, she had put on a sweater. He looked at her wrist, then up at her.

“Did I do that, baby?” Zuko asked, mortified at the burn mark that spread from the start of her wrist to the middle of her forearm. She pulled her arm away.

“Yeah. Its nothing though. I’m fine. Stop asking.” She yanked her hand away, unhappy with his pestering. He nodded.

“Come on. Please?” he begged for her forgiveness. Y/N sighed and then reached out with her non burnt hand and then touched his cheek. She gave him a smile. A bigger smile than before. “Is that a yes, love?”

“Of course. Its not like I can stay mad at you,” she gave him a kiss on the forehead. He nodded and then stood up. He put out his hand for her, she took it. Zuko brought her to his quarters where he did his best to bandage her wound. He was no medic. “You know its not that big of a deal, right?” Y/N asked as she looked at him. He was standing between her legs as she was sitting on his bed. He was very focused.

“I feel bad,” he muttered. He brought her newly bandages wrist to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the middle. She laughed.

The next day, Zuko was back doing his practices with his aim. Y/N was sitting at the side, silently watching him. When she noticed that his anger was getting to him again, she stood up and walked to him.

“Calm down, love. Come on, sit with me for a minute?” Y/N asked, lightly touching his arm again. His fingers flexed, but this time he nodded and lowered his hands. They sat together, her head resting on his shoulder. Next time he tried, he got it down.

#zuko #prince zuko #atla zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #zuko imagine #zuko angst #zuko fluff #atla #avatar the last airbender

288 notes · View notes

bg-brainrot · 3 months

Text

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question.

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts.

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions.

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort.

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart.

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this?

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

–

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion fic #love at first knife #tadfools tomfoolery #astarion fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion pov #astarion is bad at feelings #proposal fic

392 notes · View notes

wildestdreamsblog · 10 months

Text

Latibule V

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: tysm for all your support! Our Agustd is now…showing.

Masterlist, Latibule IV

“What the fuck is that?”

You turned around to glare at the man with a confused look. Suga was looking down, observing what he called ‘that’ with his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted. He could not have looked any more disgusted and confused than he did at the very moment.

You briskly walked to him, flashing him a tight smile before pulling his arm so he could follow you, however reluctantly. You stopped dragging him when the two of you reached the kitchen. You looked up at him while he was busy looking down at your hand that was trying so hard to encircle his thick wrist with a look of a somewhat confusion. Suga couldn’t, for the life of him, answer why he felt something he didn’t want to name. And now, you were too aware of the feel of his skin, of how thick his wrist was, and of how the heat emitting from his skin felt good. You were much too aware of him.

And upon realization, you dropped his wrist carelessly as though it burned you. “That-“ you pointed your finger to the living room while glaring daggers at him. “-is a child.”

He frowned, his dark locks falling on his face as he look down at you. “Fine. Why the fuck is a child here, angel?”

You sighed in exasperation, explaining to him as patiently as you could that his father asked you to look out for his child because he had to travel for work, to which he rolled his eyes dramatically.

See, this was why you thought he was similar to a cat. He hated people, he hated morning, and he hated being hungry.

Was it morning? Check.

Was there another person in your house today? Check.

Had he not eaten yet? Check.

“That’s free childcare, angel! You should charge for it!”

“He’s my friend!”

“And?”

“And this is a favor! Have you not heard of that? Are you not familiar with the concept?”

Oh, he knew favor. He knew a lot of people owed him one and he was going to collect all of them soon.

“Do you hate children? Is that it?” You asked again when he failed to answer you, stepping closer to him to annoy him further. You didn’t know why you found it so entertaining to see him lost his cool, or how his face scrunched up when he was annoyed. But he stood his ground. He looked down at you, his lips tilted to the side as he focused his dark eyes on you.

“No. I hate people in general.” But he didn’t hate you. He wasn’t put off by your existence. He wasn’t happy when you were away for too long. But these were the things he would never admit to himself.

Nope.

“Well, he’s staying here until tomorrow. Be kind! Or else!”

He had the audacity to look affronted as though he wouldn’t do the exact opposite of what you asked of him. Right now would be the prime example.

“Who are you?” Suga asked him once the two of you returned to the living room where the child was happily watching cartoons. He was looking at the child as though be was dangerous when

“I’m Jackson,” he answered back, his little arms folded on his front as he looked up at the man questioning him with an equally defiant glare. “Who are you?”

Suga turned to you, his eyes in disbelief at what he heard. “He named his child his name?”

You blinked twice, unable to even defend your friend. But you didn’t have to. His child got his sassiness, after all.

“Your name please, ahjussi,” he repeated as he tapped his foot on the ground in obvious irritation at the older man. This was the first time he saw Suga and he automatically hated him. You were his favorite aunt, albeit you were the only aunt he had. But still! He thought you were too beautiful for the man you called your fiancé. He thought he didn’t deserve you.

“Ajhussi?” He repeated in disbelief as he squinted his eyes at the child. “I’m…Suga.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Yah! What kind of name is Jackson?! Can’t your father think of another name? Is he that-“

You could feel a headache coming as you listened to them bicker. “Guys-“

“My friends said I have a nice name!”

“Yeah? Well, they’re lying to you!”

“At least I have friends! You look like you have enemies!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong though, Suga thought as he paused. He’d give this round to the kid. But he would return with a vengeance.

“Noona,” the young Jackson turned to look at you with his puppy eyes and an adorable pout on his lips that you couldn’t help but cooed at him and opened your arms so he could hug you.

He wrapped his little arms around your middle before whining at you. “Are you sure that man is who you want to be with? There are better guys out there, noona,” he said as he turned his head to glare at the other man.

“Yah!”

To which, he just stuck his tongue out.

“Angel, why is he still here? Can’t his mother take care of him?! Or did his mother also find him insufferable?”

“Suga!” You reprimanded him as you felt the child’s small body shook with impending tears. You glared at the man before hugging the now wailing child. For heaven’s sake, did he really have to fight with a child?! “Are you a child?! You should know better!”

“What?! He started it!”

“His mother…passed away,” you whispered the last part, feeling sorry for the child who never knew his mother. You thought that this was why he was somehow too attached with you. You were the only female figure in his life because his father refused to date anyone. He had said one night when you asked him why he never dated despite it being years already and he only said that he found the one. That his wife was it, that anyone would only fail in comparison to her.

You thought it was sad to have found your soulmate, only for her to be taken from your grasp forever, to be only left with memories that would fade in time, to be the only one whose love had no where else to go.

Suga’s eyes widened in realization, his gaze on you as what you said sunk in. He always knew he was an asshole, an abomination of a greedy man. He knew he was all that was wrong in mankind, but God, seeing that child cried his heart out displaced him. It felt…wrong. Was he developing a fucking conscience? Was this safe place making him soft?

Were you making him a better man?

He turned his dark eyes on the weeping child before he stood up. He clapped the child’s shoulder, “If you stop crying, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You watched the two in front of you devoured their ice cream like it was the end of the world. After fighting like vicious animals, they were sitting in front of you quietly as though they never said hurtful things to one another. You didn’t know that Suga even know this place. You thought that he must probably roamed around the town while you were at work and must have familiarized himself with the town. When he said that he knew a place, this was the last place you thought. This was the most colorful place in the whole town and it was also the loudest with pop songs playing on the speaker and children running all over the place. He was too in contrast with the aesthetic of the place with his all-black clothes and the emotionless face he was showing to the world.

You looked up to watch them again when you caught him already looking intently at you- or more specifically, your ice cream. “What?”

You ordered what you considered the normal flavor, chocolate and cookies and cream which were your favorite, while they ordered fruit-flavored ice cream. Suga thought it was peculiar that you didn’t eat fruits and you said he was weirder for fighting with a kid, to which he had no comeback for.

“I want your ice cream,” he announced as though it was his birth right to receive everything he ever desired.

“Suga- we talked about this.”

“About what?” He asked absentmindedly as he reached his spoon to your side when you slapped his hand away.

“What’s the magic word?”

He glared at you, his jaw clenched uncaring if he was bringing the vibe of the place down, or that he looked like an angry kitten.

“It’s ‘please’, ahjussi,” Jackson quipped up, looking up at the man sitting beside him with doe eyes. “Did you not know that?”

“Yes, Suga, did you not know that?” You asked him with faux confusion, batting your eyelashes at him annoyingly.

“May I please have your ice cream?”

“Of course, honey.”

You couldn’t help but smiled triumphantly at him before scooping your ice cream and lifting it to him. He glared at you before holding your hand closer to his lips before opening his mouth devouring the ice cream, all while holding eye contact with you.

And fuck it if you weren’t entranced with the way his lips seemed so pink…or the way his dark eyes seemed to hold so much hunger that you felt your cheeks heated up. You tried to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let go.

“Delicious, angel,” he said lowly before flashing you a smirk and placing your hand down gently on the table. “I’ll go pay the bill.”

You blinked owlishly, shaking the haze from your mind. “What? You don’t have money. Let me pay-“

He regarded you with bored eyes before lifting his eyebrow, “You told me to get a job, right?”

You were still reeling from the added information as he already walked to the counter. He got a job? When? Also, who would hire someone as socially inadequate as he was?

Jackson grinned widely as he spotted his best friend from across the diner. The other child was waving at him excitedly. He turned to you, jumping from his seat with an elated expression on his face. “Noona! May I say hi to my friend?”

“Of course, honey. Just be careful and don’t run.”

You watched him walked to the other side and you only lost sight of him for a moment when you watched Suga smiled with the old lady working in the diner. He looked like he was familiar with her. Your brows furrowed. How would he, an anti-social, always irritated, mannerless man, know her? Unless…did he work here?

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard an aggressive shouting from behind you.

“Watch where you’re going, little boy!” The man hissed down at Jackson who accidentally bumped into him. He looked like he was about to cry as the man continually berated him that you snapped up to your seat and walked to them. You placed your hands around the little boy’s shoulders, hugging him closer to you as shield from the screaming man.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

He turned his sinister eyes on you, “Are you her mother? You let your son run around like that? What kind of mother are you?!”

“He was not running. I know because I saw. And what about you?! You’re a grown man who shouted at a child over a harmless mistake!”

He sneered at you, his beady eyes roaming on your form. He chuckled tonelessly, before walking closer to you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he whispered before pushing your shoulder hard with his index finger, making you step back from the force. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I care?”

“I can ruin you and your family-“

He was about to hit you again when a someone caught his finger in his fist. Suga stepped in, his eyes devoid of any emotion, his jaw clenched as he walked closer to the man.

“I’d think twice about doing that,” he ordered coldly, stepping closer to him that the two of you were now hidden behind his back.

And it was as though he noticed a predator more dangerous than him because he did nothing but gulped as he struggled to look into Suga’s eyes. Suga whispered something inaudible to the man before smirking at him and dropping his hold on him. You felt him wrapped his arm around you as he guided you out of the diner and out of reach of the customers’ curious eyes.

The silence was overbearing, so unalike the one you were used to with him, the one where you could break it with your sassiness and teasing ways to him. No. This time, he looked like a different person. He still hadn’t released his hold on you and you could feel the tension emitting from his hand. You were almost to the park, the one you’d promised the little boy you could go to after the diner, when he paused his tracks.

You turned to look at him- only to find him already staring at you with a swirling darkness in his eyes. He let go of you, his hand that had just touched you was clenching.

“You go ahead, angel. I left my wallet in there,” he stated after a moment, his hands now in his pockets before turning around and walking back.

—-

“I told you I’d be back.”

The man’s eyes widened when he noticed Suga casually leaning against the wall of the narrow and quiet walkway. Had he not said a word, he would have walked passed the man who emitted an insane and menacing vibe. His dark hair was falling on his face, his scarred eye leering up at him as though he was elated to finally find a prey in this quiet and sleepy town.

“I-I don’t want any trouble, man-“

“Tsk tsk,” he pushed himself off of the wall before sauntering to the man. He looked relax as though nothing could phased him…as though he wasn’t about to do a crime. “It’s too late for that…man.”

The man whimpered as he was slammed to the wall, his body falling weakly to the ground. He couldn’t hold his own weight, no, not against Suga. His huge body was likened to a rag doll as the man he thought was the devil incarnate landed blow after blow on his body. And he did so without any emotions in his eyes.

“You listen here and you listen good, asshole,” Suga said in a toneless voice, his eyes holding a barely constrained anger. He stepped closer, uncaring that he was crushing the fingers of the man that dared touched her..or that the sound of bones crunching made the man whimpered louder. He crouched down, his hand hanging on his knees nonchalantly. “You fucked up,” he whispered as he took in the disheveled state of the crying man. Softly, he touched the other man’s fingers. He smirked when he heard him cried louder.

“You didn’t only scare the child, but you touched a woman. My woman,” he stated as though he was merely discussing the weather.

“W-what? W-who are you? Are you her husband?” He asked as tears fell down from his eyes.

“Yes.”

Latibule VI

#min yoongi fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #bts fic #yoongi fic #yandere min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #mafia min yoongi

884 notes · View notes

dontyouworrydaddy · 10 months

Note

Can you please do 141 where the reader and them are talking about there Highschool years and like “I would have dated you in high school “ type thing THEN they see a pic of reader in high school (prom,first day,or any thing for that time) SHES FINE FINE like imagine 90s type vibe, then they remember what they looked like in that same year and they say back “ IM glad u didn’t meet me then cause u would have no interest “ AND SHES STILL FINE FINE where they think it’s a recent photo!

idk know what I’m doing I just got an idea and your my favorite writer so I wanted to let you know!!!!

YOU ARE LOVED!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️

thᥱ most bᥱᥲᥙtιfᥙᥣ ᥕomᥲᥒ ιᥒ thᥱ ᥕorᥣd

Task Force 141 + fem! reader

I ABSOLUTELY love this idea!!!! Like as soon as they see your pictures they‘re like "damn. I‘m glad we didn’t meet back then because she would definitely reject me and on top of that probably make fun of me." I‘m sorry but especially with Soap😭 This dude probably had the craziest hair back then (he still has but we love him for it).

Also I‘m so thankful for your kind words🥺🥺 They really mean so much to me and you just lighten up my entire day<33 I wish I could hug you right now☹️ Remember that you’re also always loved by someone and MEEE🫶🏻🫶🏻💘💘

Thank you really so so much 🌸💕💕

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Simon Riley

It was a quiet evening at the your apartment . Simon found himself reminiscing about your high school years. As the conversation flowed, nostalgia filled the air.

"You know, Y/N, if we had met in high school, I would have totally dated you." Simon said with a playful smirk, leaning back against the wall.

You chuckled, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Oh, really? And why is that?"

Simon's gaze turned thoughtful as he recalled those distant memories. "Well, you are always confident and stunning. I would have been a nervous wreck around you."

Grinning, you teased, "Are you saying you weren't attractive back then?"

Simon chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "Let's just say my teenage years weren't my finest hour. I had an awkward sense of fashion, let’s not talk about my hair... Definitely not the smooth operator you see in front of you today."

Curiosity piqued, you both began reminiscing about those high school days. Simon had a mischievous idea and suggested pulling out old photo albums to see just how different you both were.

Rummaging through the dusty boxes, you stumbled upon a photo of your younger self. It was a picture from prom, in your beautiful dress. You were radiant, your smile lighting up the frame. Simon's eyes widened as he took in the sight.

"Damn, Y/N, you were fine then, and you're still fine now!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise.

You laughed, not realizing his little trick. "Well, thank you, Simon. I try my best."

Simon's expression shifted, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "You know, seeing this picture reminds me of why I'm glad we didn't meet back then. I don't think I would have stood a chance with you. You would've rejected me in a heartbeat."

Your smile softened as you leaned in closer. "Simon, you underestimate yourself. I would have seen the incredible person you were, braces and all. It's the person you are inside that truly matters."

Simon's eyes locked with yours, and a genuine smile graced his face. The air was filled with a sense of camaraderie as you both laughed at the absurdity of it all.

As the evening came to a close, Simon made a decision. He carefully tucked the photo of your younger self into his pocket, a keepsake of a moment he cherished. You remained unaware of this little secret, but somehow, deep down, you felt that this memory would always be a part of your bond.

John MacTavish

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and John and you were lounging on the couch, flipping through old photo albums. The nostalgic memories flooded your minds as you reminisced about your high school years. The room was filled with laughter and teasing as you playfully pointed out your younger selves in various snapshots.

John looked at a picture of you, radiating confidence in a stunning prom dress. He couldn't help but stare in awe, captivated by your beauty and timeless charm. With a grin, you turned to him and said "You know, John, I would have totally dated you in high school."

John's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He never expected you to make such a bold statement. "Really?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in his voice.

You nodded, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, absolutely. You are the mysterious and brooding type. I was drawn to that kind of intensity back then."

A flicker of doubt crossed John's face as he remembered his own high school years. "I'm glad you didn't meet me then" he said, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "I had this crazy hair phase, and trust me, you would have immediately rejected me."

You chuckled, playfully swatting his arm. "Come on, John. Show me that picture. I'm sure it couldn't have been that bad."

John hesitated for a moment, then reached for another album. He turned to a page and revealed a photograph of himself, his hair styled in an over-the-top, eccentric manner that seemed to defy gravity. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement as he looked at his younger self.

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your stomach. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to compose yourself. John couldn't help but join in, the embarrassment fading as he found joy in sharing this memory with you.

Once the laughter subsided, you looked at him with a smile. "John, you have no idea how much I would have loved to meet that version of you. That hairstyle is absolutely cute!"

John's face softened, his heart swelling with affection for you. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Even if I looked like a total goofball, you would still find a way to make me feel special."

You reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "That's because I've always seen the amazing person you are, regardless of how you looked or what hairstyle you had."

John leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, his love for you evident in his eyes. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side," he whispered and kissed you on the lips.

John Price

You and John sat side by side on the couch, flipping through an old photo album filled with memories from your high school years. The two of you had decided to take a nostalgic trip down memory lane. You couldn't help but smile as you stumbled upon a particular photograph that brought back a flood of memories.

"Oh my gosh, John, look at this!" you exclaimed, pointing to a picture of yourself at the high school prom. You were dressed in a stunning vintage dress.

John's eyes widened as he gazed at the photograph, taking in your breathtaking beauty. "Wow, you were absolutely stunning" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "If I had known you back then, I would've also been head over heels for you."

A playful grin spread across your face. "Oh, really? So you're saying you would've dated me in high school?"

John chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I probably would've been too intimidated to ask you out. Plus, I had a weird sense of style back then. Trust me, you wouldn't have been interested."

Curiosity piqued, you leaned closer, showing him the photograph of yourself. "Well, let's see if that's true" you challenged him.

John's eyes widened even further as he looked at the picture. "Wait a minute, is this recent? You look exactly the same!"

You burst into laughter, your heart warming at his genuine surprise. "No, John, this is me in high school. That's why I said I would've dated you back then."

He let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. I definitely lucked out then."

You playfully nudged his shoulder. "Come on, John, you can't be that bad. Let me see your high school days."

John reluctantly handed you another photograph from the album, showing his younger self with a mischievous grin. He sported a rather peculiar outfit that seemed to be a mixture of different styles. It was elegant and had a touch of cowboy style, mixed…

You burst into laughter once again, unable to contain yourself. "Oh, John! I can't believe this was your fashion sense back then."

He smirked, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I had a bit of a weird phase. Trust me, if we had met during those years, I would've been instantly rejected."

You shook your head, still laughing. "Oh, John, you have no idea. Even with that fashion sense, I would've been all over you."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Well, I'm glad we met when we did, then. I wouldn't change a thing about how we found each other."

You smiled, savoring the warmth of his embrace. "Me neither, John. We're perfect for each other, weird fashion choices and all."

Kyle Garrick

Kyle and you sat side by side on the couch, surrounded by photo albums from your high school days. You decided to take a trip down memories from back then together. As you flipped through the pages, looking at the good old times, you stumbled upon a photo of yourself from prom night.

"Oh, wow!" You exclaimed, holding up the photo for Kyle to see. "Look at me back then. I can't believe how much has changed."

Kyle's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in your beautiful prom dress, radiating a timeless beauty. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as he thought back to his own high school days.

"I would have dated you in high school" you mused, oblivious to the effect the photo had on Kyle. "You're such a great guy, I would have definitely dated you."

A small smile played at the corners of Kyle's lips as he stared at you, captivated by your words. "Thank you love, but believe me, you're better off not having met me back then. I was a total nerd."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What are you talking about? I‘m sure you were cute."

Kyle's expression turned pensive as he reached for another photo album and opened it to a picture of himself from the same year as your prom. His hair was a mess, his glasses too big for his face, and his clothes screamed "geek."

"See?" Kyle pointed to his photo, his voice laced with self-deprecating humor. "I was a freak. If we had met in high school, I would've been immediately rejected. You would've never given me a second glance."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then you burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Baby stop. You look adorable!!"

He blinked, unable to comprehend your words. "Wait, what?"

"I'm serious!" You continued to laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you. "You're looking at this picture like it's some embarrassing relic, but all I see is the person I fell in love with. Baby Kyle looks so so cute here"

Kyle's gaze softened as he absorbed your words. The weight of his insecurities began to lift, replaced by a newfound confidence in your unwavering love. "I‘m 17 here love… not 6…"

Placing the photo album aside, you leaned in closer to Kyle, intertwining your fingers with his. "High school was just a phase, but what we have now, this incredible relationship, is what matters. I love you, Kyle Garrick, then, now, and always."

Kyle smiled, his heart overflowing with love for you. "I love you too, more than words can express."

612 notes · View notes