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noirflms · 9 months

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୧ ˚₊ EVERYBODY’S FALLING IN LOVE ( AND I’M FALLING BEHIND ) — itoshi sae

he has never been a lover, but the day he met you, he finally found what love felt like.

itoshi sae has never been a lover, because love has never been his cup of tea. it certainly not his thing to love, or do anything related to this word; he just dislikes it, for it leaves a sour taste in his mind. he has seen people around him fall in love, be so infatuated with the very thought of it, while dopey and lovesick grins stay on their faces.

and in that sense, itoshi sae is not a lover.

love to him is like a sour candy, too sour to contemplate that it might leave your taste buds numb for a while. love to him is fragile, and it is not in him to take care of delicate things, and a thing like that, he might just back out as is. he doesn’t like the way makes you weak, he’d rather be brave and have a harsh front rather than a soft and gentle one.

love is for the weak in his dictionary, it is for people who don’t have any strengths, to him love is just a mere words, a meaningless and a waste of time, to itoshi sae love is just a hindrance, nothing more or nothing less.

but sometimes a change of perspective could bring one to have a different view, and that was what brought itoshi sae to think about the world love again, a new point of view he gathered through a dreamy lens, one that was conjured up by the likes of you, a certain someone that brought him to like the way love felt.

a lot changed the day he met you, quite like a slap to his face ( literally ).

flashing cameras and crowding paparazzis are all he sees, they are quite blinding for sae, but he is used to bright lights and this lifestyle, having been a self made prodigy, he was surrounded by cameras and paparazzis. but he hated having eyes on him, for then he couldn’t have a life out of this captured world.

it’s always an article where he has been shammed or either an article which quite literally ensues rumours of him being a womaniser — having a new girl at his arm every week. it leaves a bitter taste in his mind to even think about such absurdities, so this time he was by himself at the latest football gala, a party for all the new club members to be exact.

sae finds it hard to be in the focus of everyone, men and women alike all like to be around him, but women are more to throw themselves at him, he despises the very fact such women exist. strained and fake smiles are all he shows, jaw clenched as he talks with men with mindset’s so different, five glasses of wine have been emptied by him since the time of arrival.

so soon he finds himself wanting fresh air, a breather from all this chaos, he finds a way out as soon as the lights dim and all focus on the stage in the room. he is silent as a predator is, and as good as an escape artist to make such an escapade but seems like the gods were not in his right, for as soon as he turns the corner, his cheek meets with a hand and it begins to sting.

never in a million years had itoshi sae thought of getting smacked in the entirety of the premiere.

“oh my gosh! i’m so sorry! i thought you were a stalker or something!” it’s a heavy accent he realises but the stinging on his cheek overlooks anything that happens around him. he shakes his head focusing at the voice at hand, but his heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight before him.

( e.c ) eyes that gleam with worry as it seems to etch itself upon your features, you bite your lip in distress as you take notice of the red mark on his cheek, but his eyes are set on the way you bite your lip and he gulps, heart thumping in his chest. you observe his face that is just looking at you in awe, and as he looks into your eyes he realises you have no clue of who he was.

“i’m so so sorry!” the voice of yours breaks his stupor and the ache upon his cheek returns — it sure was a hard slap. you gulp as you see him fix his jaw, you swallow hard, the way he was suited up to the nines made you figure out that he was much more than just a creep; he looked famous.

your blood runs cold at the thought. your heart racing in your chest, as you await any loud gesture or shout for guards, or anything related to you being thrown out made your head spin.

“it’s alright, i was the one that turned the corner unannounced.” and sae is bamboozled at the words that slip past him, he looks at you, his eyes wide, and he notices your tense demeanour relax. a heavy sigh escaping briefly past your lips as you look up at him with a smile.

“but i-, um, i still apologise for the inconvenience.” you awkwardly chuckle, not cool [name], not cool, a voice rings in your head as you bite your tongue. it is then you make eye contact with him, his eyes are quite unlike any, and to him, yours were better than any. sae likes the way your eyes look like a hazy dream, he likes the way his reflection looks back at him through your eyes.

and in the moment he realised that he liked the way you looked at him, for you saw him for him, and not for the famous persona of his.

and since then, it’s been encounters here and there, finding each other at places you thought you’d never, bumping shoulder in areas one could have never fathomed. it turns from light glances to lingering ones, timid laughter turns into ones filled with nothing but genuine joy, small talks turn into conversation that ring through coffee shops.

then one hangout at his place, turns into a date at a place you like. then one date turns into two, then three, then four and soon they turn into long nights spend at your cost apartment, to ranging from movie nights at his. longing touches turn into never letting go of you, kisses that were once pressed onto his cheeks begin to linger upon his lips.

but itoshi sae was not a lover, so he never named the thing you had with him, but he liked that way you felt in his arms, he liked the way you fit right with him, he liked the taste of your lips on his, he liked the way you were his, yet not for him to keep.

for love was not meant for him, so then why did his heart ache at the thought of seeing you go. the mere thought of you being with another was like a nightmare to him, the very thought of you not being his, was utter torture for the said male.

yet here he was, a coward, he once again was a little boy who was scared to face the world to early, and love was once again becoming the victor and he could not accept defeat. he has watched many flourish within love, yet it wasn’t in him to be able to bear this sweet fruit of entanglement.

“you’re kind of stupid, you know that sae.” and for a moment, oliver aiku sounded right, he sounded to be much more truthful in the heat of the moment than he ever could be, much more better than itoshi sae was what oliver aiku had become in that instance. “certainly you look like a coward to me right now.”

and those were the last words, sae had heard from oliver before he was up on his feet, they ached as he rushed to your house, panting and huffing as he finds the door to your house to be right before him, shaky hands tremble in fear to press the doorbell, heart racing, he liked you, so what was there to fear in that.

as soon as his trembling hands press the bell and the door to your house opens, it takes everything in him to stop him from pressing his lips against yours. you were the only thing matter to him the most, in present and in future, you’ll be the sole thing that he’d like to call his forever and ever.

that fickle day itoshi sae had learnt so much more. he had learnt that love was not for the weak but for people who knew what strengthened them to the core. he learned that love was not bitter or sour, it was just missing from the right person and when you fall in love with the one that you know is true, you’ll know how sweet is the taste of the fruit.

and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t falling behind in any prospect anymore, especially in the case of love, for he had you.

the sole thing the brought him to a purpose he could have never known.

i like a chase, and itoshi sae is a man who certainly hates the idea of love but internally wishes to find just the right one ;)

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argisthebulwark · 1 year

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I am fully convinced of two things: 1) tld and Sanguine one billion percent fucked during a night to remember, and 2) add Sanguine to the list of people who have fallen head over heels for tld cuz you can never convince me that after a night to remember he's not in love with us too.

YES they absolutely fucked so hard. It would be so funny if the Dragonborn had Main Character Syndrome in universe and everyone's just. in love with them because they're so brave and strong and cool. Including the Deadra. Even better if they don't realize the effect they're having on people.

(i wrote about it a little i hope that's ok. putting it under the cut to not clog the dash/because it's NSFW and minors should not interact.)

The Last Dragonborn simply moving from town to town, completing quests and helping people in the community and always accidentally leaving one person behind yearning for them. Whether it was something small like helping them rebuild a fence that fell during a bandit raid or literally watching them fight off a dragon with nothing more than a sword and the power of the Thu'um there's a string of lovesick people left in their wake.

But when it's a Deadra? When roses start suddenly appearing at the doorstep of their home and they feel a gaze they can't place watching them when they rest at a tavern? The Dragonborn isn't sure if they should be worried or excited about the idea of another drunken night with him.

He is unrecognizable in the skin of an attractive Dunmer man other than his pitch black eyes. He smirks and steals a deep drink from their mug of ale before making an unimpressed face and passing it back to them.

"I thought you were a wine drinker." He comments, resting a hand familiarly on their thigh. The Dragonborn shivers at the warmth of his touch when his fingers tease at the hem of their jerkin. He hadn't been so forward last time.

"I'm not picky." They respond, hoping it sounds nonchalant. They can feel Sanguine's intense stare when they take another drink of ale. He grins, leaning in close enough that the warmth of his breath sends shivers down their spine.

"Interested in another drinking contest?"

Their evening passes in a blur. The two escape the tavern, cool night leaving them flushed and suggesting their room at a local inn. Sanguine offering to take them back to the place where wine flowed like water while trailing kisses down their throat.

The Dragonborn wasn't sure how they ended up in that misty grove they'd visited for only a few minutes but was willing to ignore the mystery when Sanguine's wicked tongue left a trail of goosebumps up their chest. Finally in his own skin, his sharp nails graze wonderfully over their scalp where he grasps their hair, tilting the Dragonborn's head back to give himself full access to their body.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He mutters, groaning when the Dragonborn rolls their hips against his, fully straddling his lap. They can barely process his words through the sheer bliss at each of his touches - he thought of them since their last drunken meeting?

They cannot get enough of him. His kisses, his touches, the honeyed words falling from his lips to their overheated skin, the eager way his hips ground into theirs, all of it. They'd never felt such an all encompassing need before but felt like they'd burst if Sanguine didn't keep touching them.

"I've never needed a mortal so badly." He admits when the Dragonborn paws at the jagged armor covering his chest. "What have you done to me?"

"I've done nothing." They argue, eager to unbuckle the chest piece and see the muscles underneath. They intend to stretch out every moment they get with the Daedra, unsure when he would next reappear.

"Then why do I feel such need for you?" He whispers in their ear, tender tone of his voice completely at odds with cock they can feel throbbing under his armored pants. "Why do I feel something like love amidst this lust?"

#skyrim #mdni #writing #asks #anon #sanguine

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doctorreids · 4 years

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folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER SIX - mirrorball

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: dinner’s at rossi’s and dancing in the kitchen, y/n remembers all the times she shone for spencer.

word count: 1.4k

“i’m a mirrorball, i’ll show you every version of yourself tonight.”

Pouring herself another glass of Rose, she remembered the first night she saw Spencer as more than just a workplace crush. The first night she had felt completely brave, lovesick, and reckless.

She placed Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’ album on her record player and let the memories overtake her.

Nerves wracked her body as she stepped out of the taxi outside Rossi’s house. It was her first night out with the BAU team, she’d only joined the team two months ago. In those two months, she had found a close friend in Emily.

Emily practically trained her and was her partner on most cases, she’d shown her the ropes and was always there to talk about each case after they were over. Her job was less daunting with Prentiss by her side and she couldn’t be more grateful for the rest of the team too.

She also found herself harbouring a small crush on the BAU’s local genius, Dr. Spencer Reid. It wasn’t enough that he was incredibly attractive and smart, he also had to be one of the most caring men she’d ever met. It would be easy for anyone to be sweet on him. He was oblivious to her suggestions of grabbing coffee or going to the new exhibit in one of DCs many museums, often inviting JJ or Morgan along.

One time he invited Rossi on their last case. She had never felt more embarrassed when Rossi asked her afterward if she wanted to be alone with him. He reassured her that Spencer felt the same, but she found it hard to believe that the man that avoided her like the plague could ever like her.

So she buried the feelings and carried on. She knew she would never have the confidence to act on them.

Wrapping her arms around herself, each step she took up to the front door was filled with trepidation until she heard a soft voice call out her name.

Spencer.

She spun on her heels to see him dressed in a shirt and suit jacket. He’d cut his hair too. He looked good.

“Doctor Reid! You cut your hair! It suits you.”

Red blush filled his cheeks.

Nervously, he thanked her and offered her his arm. Nodding she took it as they walked arm in arm.

Before she could knock, he stopped her.

“You don’t need to be nervous. They all love you, you know.”

She giggled, “How’d you know I was nervous?”

“That,” he pointed to her arms twisted around her torso, “you only do that when you’re either overwhelmed or nervous.”

That stunned her. He actually paid attention to her?

“Ah, the joys of working with profilers…”

“No! I didn’t mean to be creepy or-“

“Spence, it’s not creepy. In fact, you’re nervous too.”

“Pardon?” He sputtered.

“Your voice is softer when you’re unsure, it’s your tell.”

It was his turn to be stunned as she knocked on the front door; it opened to reveal a slightly tipsy Penelope behind it.

“The good doctor and my sunshine! Come on in, wine is a-flowing!”

Laughing, she shot Spencer a small smile as Garcia dragged her towards the kitchen.”

Stories of college days and cases past were recalled lovingly over a few bottles of wine and homemade food. Music flooded through the radio, Carole King and Sam Cooke playing throughout the night.

She felt as though she was coming home like she had been away from home for so long. She had finally found her place in the world, she no longer felt like someone on the outside, always looking in. She felt known and accepted - a feeling she had been searching for her entire life.

She’d already bid Hotch and JJ goodnight when she decided to throw in the towel, just as she dialled the taxi company Spencer stopped her.

“I’m sober. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Emily gave her a knowing smile as she and Spencer said their goodnights and walked to his car, an old, beat-up Volvo.

Normally for someone so talkative, he was quiet. She assumed he was just concentrating on the road and her directions, she’d later find out that he was so flustered by her he couldn’t find the words to try to start a conversation. In his own words, he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

In the stillness of the night, through the radio came a song she hadn’t heard since she was a girl in her dad’s jeep.

Humming along, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at Spencer, a kind smile rested on his face permanently until he dropped her off.

“hush, when no one is around, my dear, you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you.”

The next time the song played when they were together was seven months later. April showers meant their planned date became a stay-at-home one. She and Spencer had pulled apart her cupboards and refrigerator to make a meal.

Spencer took a shower as she stood at the sink, humming along and swaying her hips. Singing along turned into her own concert for no one, dancing without a care in the world as she scrubbed clean their plates and each pot and pan.

Spencer watched her shine, she lit up any room. She had no inhibitions, nothing holding her back. She was unbridled joy, sunshine in her smile, and gold in her eyes.

She caught his eyes as he stood in the doorway, laughing with her. Grabbing his hands, she pulled him into her as the music changed; Billy Joel’s ‘Just The Way You Are’ floating through her kitchen. They fit together like two missing pieces of a puzzle, the answer to a life-long riddle. She laughed at his awkward stance.

“What are you laughing at? I don’t know how to dance!” He pouted.

“Just hold me and sway Spence,” she giggled.

And he did. They clung to each other as if the world was ending, everything else faded away. It was just them and only them.

She didn’t feel like she had to perform for him, she could just be herself. All her faults and imperfections didn’t bother her with him; he made her feel as though she was enough. She didn’t have to change herself for him to like her - he would have her anyway. As she would with him.

She knew she was fragile, that if she broke she would break into a million different pieces. He made her feel strong and secure like she could beat the demons that haunted her. That she was worthy of every good thing in her life, that she was worthy of the love he gave her.

At that moment, in his arms, she was enough.

“i’m still on that tightrope. i’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me…i’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me.”

The memory was bittersweet.

Dancing in the refrigerator-light became their way of unwinding. Music was never off in either of their apartments; Spencer had some classical pieces on, she had some early 70s to late 80s records on. For three months, there’s only been silence.

As time passed, he no longer laughed at her when she swayed or hummed along. He would perch himself on the edge of the couch, reading or watching some documentary. She would wash the dishes before showering. The domesticity of the situation would look normal to any outsider, but it was ice-cold between them; stuck in a stalemate they didn’t know how to get out of.

Yet, she believed that everything would work out. If it wasn’t meant then, it could in the future. She held onto that hope for a while after they split but he couldn’t look at her. When she looked at him, he no longer met her gaze. There were no stolen glances in the bull-pen, in the conference room, or on the jet. She didn’t ride with him in the SUV nor did they work on geographic profiles together.

Everything she had tried, she thought, didn’t work then and it wasn’t working now.

All she ever wanted was for him to look at her and really, truly see her. For him to know and love her for her, not some mirrored version of herself.

As she sat with her second glass of Rose, she couldn’t help but believe that she had ruined everything.

---

taglist:

@itsfangirlmendes @toosassy2handle @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @rexorangecouny @myheartbelongsintz @toizerdecker

#spencer #reid #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reidxfolklore

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 years

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Some Alpha: Part 16

Fandom: Marvel (ABO AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

Bucky came knocking at your door right on the dot. You opened it and was greeted to a lovely bouquet of roses and your dashing Alpha dressed to the nines.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers,” you say shyly as you accept them from him.

He shrugged, “I’m going all out tonight, sweetheart. Now,” he steps in, taking your hand, and twirling you around, “Lemme get a good look at my beautiful, Beta.”

You found yourself giggling like a school girl as you twirled around, the skirt of your dress fanning out in the motion, “Bucky,” you say his name with a chuckle.

“What? I just wanna admire my gorgeous girl,” he says with bright eyes and a lovesick grin, “You ready to go, my lady?”

You flutter over to the couch, grabbing your phone and person, and coming right back to Bucky, who’s offered his arm to you. You take it and say with confidence, “I am one hundred percent ready, my lord.”

“Splendid. May our night festivities await!” he says with properness and a bit of an accent.

_______________________

During the drive to the restaurant, Bucky’s hand rested on your thigh, his hand occasionally sliding up close to your core, only to come back down. You felt like he was doing this on purpose, riling you up and exciting you. Teasing you.

It isn’t until you began to growl at him that he stopped and feigned confusion, “What’s with the growling, my Beta?” he asked with a smirk.

You frowned at him, your eyes narrowing into a glare, “You know what you’re doing and it’s not fair.”

He hummed and pat your knee, “Patience is a virtue, my Beta,” he then proceeded to place both hands on the steering wheel. You already missed his touch.

Bucky pulled up to the curb, hopping out and placing the keys into the hands of the valet. When you opened your door, his hand was right there for you to grab, assisting you as you stepped out of the car.

As soon as you place your hand in Bucky’s and you stepped out of the car, your jaw dropped in awe, “You did not!” You stared up at the luxurious three story restaurant, the bright shining sign ‘Stark’s’ staring down at you.

Bucky kissed the back of your hand, his fingers still intertwined with yours, “I did. Tony is a friend of Steve’s.”

“Bucky, you really didn’t-”

“Yes, I did, sweetheart. Like I said I’m going all out tonight. After everything we’ve been through, after everything you’ve been through, you deserve this.”

You sigh, “I really don’t deserve you, Bucky Barnes.”

“You’re worth it all, my Beta. You deserve this and more. I’m just lucky that you gave a guy like me a chance.”

A hostess came up to him, asking for the name the reservation is in. After giving his name, Bucky dropped your hand, proceeding to wrap an arm around your waist instead. He could smell the apprehension coming off you. This was you real first time going out in public like this. He could sense that you were nervous and a little bit scared.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. You took your scent suppressants?” You nodded your head, practically curling up into his arm and he spoke again, “Then you’ll be fine.”

“People are staring,” you murmured, feeling the eyes on you.

Bucky chuckled, which confused you, “It’s because you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen.” he presses a loving kiss to your temple and then you both follow the hostess up the the third floor and towards a table more secluded from the rest of the restaurant’s patrons. It was right next to the glass paned wall, giving you a lovely view of the city around you.

“The night’s barely started and I already think this is the best night I’ve ever had,” you say with a big smile.

You’re given the menus by the hostess and she tells you that your server will be there any moment. You eyes overlook the menu and they nearly bug out when you see how expensive everything is, “Buck-”

“Don’t worry about, sweetheart.” he says, eyes not wavering from the menu. He already knows what you’re going to say.

“But-”

That’s when he looks up, his eyes shining with confidence and love, “I got it covered. Trust me.”

You sigh and continue perusing the menu. You pick out what sounds good to you. When you place your menu down, your server comes by with a two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“Complimentary by Mister Stark,” he smiles, pouring your drink, and then placing the bottle into the chiller, “I’ll also be right back with some appetizers that are also complimentary by Mister Stark.” the man bowed slightly and headed back towards the kitchen.

You took your glass, as did Bucky, and held it up, “To us.”

“To you, Y/N. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve gone through a lot, but you’ve been so strong and brave. I admire you, adore you, and love you so much.”

“I wouldn’t have done it without you, my Alpha. I love you.”

“I love you too, my Beta.”

You both clinked your glasses together and took a sip from the wine. It was sweet with a slightly bitter taste at the end, but overall good.

“So...you’re moving in with me.”

Bucky nodded, “Only if you want me to.”

You can’t help but snort, “I mean, you’re already practically living with me, Buck. Might as well make it official, yeah?”

“True,” he says with a chuckle. He then sighs in disbelief, “You know, I never thought I’d get this. I thought I’d never find a mate, never find true love. I thought I’d be alone until the rest of my days. And then you came along and turned my world upside down. You, a firey Beta with so much sass and attitude. You, someone who deserves so much more than me. I feel like the luckiest Alpha in the world to have you as my mate, Y/N.”

“Not gonna like, Buck, this is starting to sound like a proposal.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to marry you, baby doll, but I want to give us a little more time. Who knows, maybe you might change your mind about me-”

“Never,” you insisted, “I want you, Bucky Barnes. Mind, body, and soul. You’re my mate, my Alpha. We may not have the marked claim just yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m not yours and you’re not mine.”

Bucky sighs in relief, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “Even after all this time of knowing you and being with you, you still amaze me with how wonderful you are.” he presses his lips to your fingers and you do the same.

“The feeling is mutual, Alpha,” you get a little daring when you take Bucky’s pointer finger into your mouth and suck it a little bit.

A deep growl emits from deep within his chest, “Behave yourself, baby doll.”

You smirked as you lightly dropped his hands onto the table and leaned back in your chair, “What’s with the growling, my Alpha?”

“You better stop this now or I won’t hesitate to bend you over this table and claim you in front of everyone,” he threatened in a low, deep tone that shovers down your spine and made your pussy tingle.

“Patience is a virtue, I hear,” you say cooly, reaching for your glass and taking a sip of wine.

____________

Over appetizers, more wine, and eventually dinner, you and Bucky discuss the process of him moving in as well as you going back to work. Your manager, luckily, was very understanding and up to date about the things you’ve gone through. When you were ready, your position would still be waiting for you.

Through the idle chatter and lengthy conversations, you seemed to be more daring when it came to the things you said and done. Your feet would slide up and down Bucky’s leg, pressing your chest forward more, “innocently” sucking and licking at your utensils. You were starting to drive Bucky up the wall. He knew it and you knew it too. The smell of his arousal wafting through the scent of your meal.

When it came to dessert was when he finally had it.

Bucky pulled out a few hundred dollar bills and slapped them onto the table, “Box up any desserts Stark had set aside for us and meet us downstairs,” he ordered confidently, his eyes never leaving yours, “And keep the change.”

The server, receiving the signal and smell of urgency from Bucky, took the money and thanked him, hustling towards the kitchen.

“Let’s go, baby doll,” he growls, eyeing you up and down as you swiftly stand up. You eye the tent in his slacks and you feel your mouth and core wetten.

As you and Bucky make your way back down to the first floor, he murmurs huskily in your ear, “When we get home, I’m officially making you mine.”

You bite your lip to prevent you from moaning as you muster out a “Yes, Alpha,” and follow Bucky towards the car where the valet already seemed to have his car and your desserts waiting for you.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #chubby!bucky #abo au #marvel au #marvel #au

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yandere-romanticaa · 4 years

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May i ask for hcs of yandere apollo? Ty

Yandere Apollo.

Apollo has had many diffirent love affairs, but it is a well known fact that they all end in tragedy. The person in question usually doesn't either return his feeling or they get killed somewhere down the line. Or both.

So, what kind of darling would catch Apollo's attention? Well, darling dearest would definetly be quite the looker since Apollo does have a love for beauty. If his darling was a woman, he'd like her to be sweet but a bit fistey. He likes to play with fire and he finds the independence very attractive. If his darling is a man, he would prefer him to be a brave warrior but with a soft side. Apollo definetly has a type and he just loves to chase the object of his affections, even if it does cause him great sorrow in the process.

He's also very, very clingy because he always wants to be with his darling. This can clash with darlings independence greatly but that is what he adores about them. That rare fire his little human has is just so precious... It must be his by any means necessary.

Apollo would also be very happy if his darling was artistic themselves. Be it art, writing, music or anything else in between Apollo is always going to be darlings number one fan. He adores everything they make and create and he will gladly boast about darlings ability to the other gods.

Even with darlings passion for life and independence, somewhere down the line Apollo is going to make it clear that he won't tolerate any sort of bad behaviour. He is still a god after all, and he can always curse his darling. He can twist and turn darling dearests life in to a living Hell, but he could never kill them. He does have a "If I can't have you, nobody will." mentality, but he is too selfish to let his darling go like that. Oh no, no, he can never let them go! They are just so prefect, the lovesick god can never get enough of them.

Their sweet scent has become more intoxicating then any fine wine and the sound of darlings voice is more besutiful then any song ever sung. Nothing can compare, no one can compare.

He will always keep his sweetheart safe. He won't let anyone hurt them! Poor Apollo could never forgive himself if somethig ever happened to his muse! He had lost so many lovers in the past, he can't lose this one too. Apollo will probably end up turning his darling in to a minor diety because of this. Darling won't be very strong of course, but they will be immortal!

Apollo would also love to marry his darling. The lovesick fool can only ever dream about that and he will do everything he can to turn it in to a reality. The wedding will be very lavish and wounderful, just like how he imagined it.

"YOU'RE MINE (Y/N)! I JUST... I CAN'T LET YOU GO, YOU NEED TO BE MINE!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #greek mythology #greek myths #greek gods #greek gods x reader #yandere greek gods #yandere greek gods x reader #apollo #apollo x reader #yandere apollo #yandere apollo x reader

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

I Found {Part 8}

*Loki x reader*

Part: 8/8

Words: 3.6k

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream

A.N.: So... This is the last part 😊 I hope you guys enjoyed the series and the idea I tried to follow with this! Let me warn you: there's blood in this! But also flufff 😁💚

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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It was early evening when Loki was yet again summoned to the throne hall. He followed the guards through the many tunnels in a feigned calm, already hearing the loud noises from the feast echoing through the entire palace. The occasion itself wasn't making him nervous, and neither was the prospect of murdering the king within the next two hours… but ever since he'd had to let you go to get cleaned up and ready for your presenting, he'd felt on edge.

Now, as he walked into the hall with his usual long, elegant strides, he found it beyond crowded for once. Long rows of tables, people everywhere, food and drinks in the plenty… and Loki was led to a seat right in the front, in close reach of the king's high throne. Maybe all this would work out indeed, maybe luck would for once be in his favor...

He sat down in silence, and closely observed the people around himself in cold evaluation. Along with him in the front sat a few higher councilmen, and some people he had seen around but never really bothered to get to know. Yet what really interested him was the current absence of the king. Wasn't this supposed to be his feast? Loki also didn't see you anywhere, and that was way more concerning than the king's absence.

The people around him were merrily eating, drinking, laughing… it reminded him of the feasts Odin had held back in Asgard. He'd never enjoyed those much, and he certainly didn't enjoy himself right now. His lips were set into a grim line as his eyes searched the faces around himself, the guards and staff… he couldn't fathom how they would react to what was about to happen.

At last, finally, the king entered the hall with hurried steps as he moved towards his throne, and the room fell silent in an instant. People bowed their heads, and Loki followed the example easily, but with disgust. He'd only need to play his part for a little while longer… then it would all be over for good.

"My dear guests!" The king called into the hall, croaky voice more cheery than Loki had ever heard him speak before. He really must want you then… the thought disgusted Loki even more, and he smiled to hide the movements of his jaw clenching.

"I welcome everyone to tonight's feast! As I see, the food and wine have already fallen into appreciating hands, and I will not keep you from their joys for much longer, but I believe we owe this feast an occasion!" He laughed, and quite a couple men along with him. Loki didn't really believe that these people would need any reason to get drunk and whore around, but he obviously stayed quiet and observed the king as he walked up the few stairs towards his throne and slumped down with a groan.

"We are here to celebrate the newest toy in my collection, who will as of tonight become not only my personal chamber companion, but also every woman's idol in her devoted selflessness." He said in a heavy but pleased sigh, then clapped his hands. "Bring her in!"

Loki's eyes snapped towards the door that was pushed open at the side of the hall, and he watched how you were led into the room by two guards and a calmly smiling Agatha behind you. You'd been forced into wearing a tiny piece of black fabric that barely served to cover the very necessities from the guests' yearning eyes. Loki surely hoped that you had managed to sneak the dagger into the folds of the thin fabric.

The guards led you to stand right on front of the stairs leading to the throne, and thus to stand only a few feet away from Loki.

You were looking down to the ground, your face calm and peaceful as you stood straight with an impeccable posture. Had you been this good at the act before? Loki suppressed both a frown and the urge to stare at you like a protective, lovesick puppy. If his gaze would've met yours, he feared that his eyes might have betrayed him and given away just how deeply his affection for you was rooted within his being.

Instead he looked back at the king, who took up the word once more while ogling you with a hungry stare. "My, you are beautiful, my sweet… sinfully perfect. What is your name, girl?"

"Y/n, your highness." You replied calmly, not lifting your gaze off the stairs in front of you.

"Tell me, Y/n… Have you been taught and instructed in the arts of pleasing?" He continued to ask with a self sufficient smirk, and Loki bit his tongue to keep every other muscle in his body relaxed, to not reveal himself or even worse, you.

"Yes, my lord." You nodded once, calm and compliant, and if Loki hadn't known any better, he truly would have believed that you had fallen into submissiveness. The thought was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Have you improved, since your reported failure? With the help of Loki?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And do you wish to be put into my services now, pet?"

"It would be my honor, and my privilege. My king… I could not imagine a greater joy." The words came from you so easily that Loki seriously wondered where all of this calm and braveness was coming from now. Only a few hours prior, you had been severely doubting your abilities to put on this act… and now it seemed like you were no less capable of it than Loki himself. He felt beyond proud, and just as certain that you could do this as he had been all along. But no less better about you having to do this in the first place.

"My, such a willing pet…" The king mused happily and his eyes snapped from you to Loki. "I must say, I am impressed with your work, god of tricks. You truly seem to have turned this stubborn little minx into a compliant, submissive plaything."

Loki smiled his most dashing smile and held his arms up in a flattered shrug as he rose to his feet, taking a few steps to stand next to you just below the throne. "Well, your majesty, I would spare no efforts to see my tasks done to your fullest contentment only."

The king gave the guards a knowing, commanding nod before mere moments later, they dragged a middle aged man sitting close to the front to his feet, and out of the room despite his heavy and foremost noisy protests. Well, that was (or rather had been) the head of council.

"It seems to me that your reward is in order, my friend." The king grinned, showing off his tiny, broken teeth. "You have fulfilled every task put upon you to my contentment, and even exceeded my expectations. Thus I shall reward you, Loki of Asgard, with the position of the head of my council. However this power I am only willing to put upon you since I don't want any of the remaining carrion in my council to occupy this position."

The smile that came upon Loki's face was real this time… things were working out exactly as he had plotted, and exactly as he had explained to you. "I shall accept this honor, my king, with the most humble thanks to your generosity."

"Then so be it!" He declared grandiloquently, voice echoing over the quiet chatter in the audience to have them all fall silent once more. "I hereby declare you chairman and head of the king's council of Underworld."

With a humbled bow, Loki took small steps backwards until he could sit down on his designated spot at the table once more. People started congratulating him immediately, but he only nodded politely as his eyes remained fixed on the king. That had been step two of the plan, now you would need to continue on with part three while all Loki could do was watch until it would be his turn again.

"Now, this is still a presentation after all! A show both for me and the kingdom." The king stated loudly, and the room fell silent once more as if in guilty impatience for the time they would finally get to eat on. "Come, pet, and show to me what you have learned."

Loki's stomach flipped and his heart picked up speed as he watched your hands tremble ever so slightly for a mere second, then you took a deep breath in the completely silent room and your shaking subsided. With a certain yet slow saunter you took the steps upwards to the throne, keeping your back straight and your gaze on the ground right until your stood directly in front of the king.

Luckily the man's eyes were entirely fixed on yours from the very moment you looked at him, and Loki's hands balled into fists under the table until his knuckles turned white and the skin felt like tearing. The entire room was mesmerized by the scene unfolding in the front, and one could have heard a pin dropping. Only the low, pleased humming of the king could be heard as you slowly traced a hand from his right temple down to his neck. Just like you had practiced… Loki could almost feel the memory of your hands on his own skin, and watching it happening in front of him now made his blood boil and his stomach feel beyond twisted. But he also couldn't bring himself to look away, couldn't avert his eyes even if he tried.

Your fingers caressed the tyrant's neck for a moment, then you pulled him closer only a tiny bit as you followed every step of your practiced procedure. With you looming over him, your face way too close while still at a safe distance, he was completely drawn in, deeply mesmerized and unable to focus on anything but you.

Honestly, Loki could blame the king for a great lot of things, but not for falling under your spell… for he knew all too well how utterly impossible it was to refrain from that. And oh, you did act your part well… Loki almost felt jealous, had he not reminded himself that partially at least, you were doing all this for Loki himself.

Then however he was drawn out of his thoughts by the quickest movement he had ever (almost) seen, as you drew the dagger he had given you out of the dainty fabric at your side, right over your ribcage, and stabbed the sharp metal right into where the king's pulsepoint must lie. Very few screams and gasps could be heard in the audience, as not everyone had caught on to what had happened just yet. And despite having known what would happen, Loki found himself surprised by the sheer brutality of the action, and at the same time… infinitesimally drawn to you. Amazed, he watched how the king's eyes widened in shock as blood spluttered out of the wound, and how you still moved to cut his throat nonetheless in such a calm collectedness that Loki shuddered involuntarily. Well, if that wasn't attractive…

Surprise had numbed everyone in the hall for a moment, given you enough time to finish your work, but as the seconds, the heartbeats passed, and you moved off the throne and away from the king's dead body, the guards finally jumped into action while the folk broke out into hysterical screaming.

Your gaze met Loki's in an instant, and he could've sworn that your eyes sparkled even more than they had previously. The small smirk you gave him only added to that, and his entire system was ablaze in the most positive way as he jumped to his feet to meet you in front of the throne.

"By the gods, that was beyond alluring…" He smirked at you as he wrapped an arm around your waist in a gesture of utter protectiveness. Maybe even a little possessiveness. Yeah, definitely that too.

"Why thank you." You grinned back, trying to wipe off some of the blood on your hands and arms on your poor excuse of a dress. "I must say, it was more fun than I had imagined."

"You are absolutely irresistible, Y/n. I cannot wait to spend the rest of eternity with you." He sighed softly, before turning to the approaching guards and piercing them with small blades of ice at once. The guards that had followed behind them stopped dead in their tracks, looking at Loki in surprise and most definitely fear.

"People of Underworld…" Loki started, in his most official sounding voice. "We bring to you the chance of revolution! The king is dead, and so will be everyone who tries to refuse my order. I am representative of the highest authority you have, and it now falls onto me to rule over you."

As of yet, people actually seemed to listen to what he was saying and nobody was trying to arrest or murder him. That was an improvement to previous attempts to take over a kingdom that wasn't his to rule.

"Go on… you're doing great." You whispered to him with a small smile, and Loki couldn't help but grin as he spoke on.

"I cannot possibly make up for the many wrongs he has done to this kingdom and its people. And I realize that I am not one of your kind, and have not been living here for long. But I do assure you that I am very much capable of putting an end to every attempt to re-establish this form of tyranny. I will also not hesitate to end anyone who wishes to stay loyal to your just passed king, and join him in death rather than work to improve the life of everyone in your realm. I give you the choice now."

For a moment everything was quiet, just as quiet as it had previously been, before one by one the people started bowing slowly. From the councilmen to the guards to the ordinary folk… everyone was bowing to Loki and thus also to you, who still stood next to him with your fingers intertwined with his own.

And it didn't even come as a surprise to Loki anymore, that he enjoyed the feeling of having your unconditional trust and unyielding loyalty way more than having a kingdom to rule. He didn't need people to bow before him… He only needed you, to trust and love him, and for him to worship and love you in return.

"I have exactly two orders to make, as the ruler of this kingdom. One, I wish for someone knowledgeable to show Y/n and me to the surface of the planet, safely. And secondly… I will impose onto my dearest Agatha the task to set up a new government for this place. And while I will be gone soon, I will most definitely hear of the outcome of it." He spoke calmly and with certainty, grinning at Agatha who rolled his eyes at him with a smile. Then he moved on to be a bit more precise in what he meant. "Now for everyone who's not as eloquently gifted: if anyone disobeys the old bat, I will come back with the entire Asgardian army to do to you EXACTLY what my lovely Y/n just did to the man on the throne. I believe you understand that, given the previous visuals."

People all around the room nodded both in fear and in actual appreciation as the chattering and nervous mumbling continued once he didn't speak on. Loki however only had eyes for you, as you gave his hand a little squeeze.

"We did it. We actually did it." You smiled brightly, a short moment before wrapping your arms tightly around Loki.

He held onto you just as desperately, as he relished the feeling of having you all to himself at last, without guards or secrecy or anything that could come in between you. "YOU did it, my love… you were amazing."

"And so were you! I honestly think everyone is scared of us now… but in a good way, I think." You said quietly, holding tightly onto the fabric of his shirt on his back.

"Yeah… we murdered their king, that doesn't really leave a good impression. And that is exactly why we should not rule. Gaining power this way almost always leads to misery and definitely always to inevitable failure." He mused, drawing patterns on the soft skin of your back. "Do you still wish to come back to my world with me? To my brother's kingdom?"

"Of course! I love you, Loki, I don't want to be anywhere you're not." You replied immediately, easily but with the frown well audible in your tone.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but smile. "I love you too… even though I'm still trying to figure out what exactly that means."

"We'll figure it out together. Happily, and far away from this living hell. It's never been much of a home to me anyway. You are though... My home..."

"And you are mine, love. Now, let's find someone who can show us to the surface."

Firstly however Loki conjured up something warmer for you to wear, and while you changed, he went to speak to Agatha, who already found herself surrounded by confused guards awaiting new orders. She was handling them quite well, he thought with amusement, and the king's body was kindly removed from the hall, while the people simply continued with their feast. That truly was the spirit of Underworld… a place Loki couldn't quite bring himself to miss in the future.

"You!" Agatha frowned at Loki, but couldn't really convey the anger she was trying to portray. "You created this mess, and now you leave it up to me to clean up after you!"

"Well, it seems you are doing great already!" He smiled at her innocently as you returned to his side, taking his hand once more as if to make sure he wouldn't leave your side ever again. He had no intention to.

"Careful! I'm old, but bright enough for you to put me into power." Agatha warned him with the same deep frown, but couldn't help smiling a moment later. "Your mother wouldn't necessarily have been proud of your ways, but certainly of your intentions. And definitely of your results."

"That's good enough for me." Loki smirked, glancing down at you for a moment, then back up at Agatha. "Thank you, for your help."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Agatha shrugged with a mischievous expression, then smiled once more. "Have that seer of yours check on us from time to time. Wouldn't want to risk another misled government."

"I can assure you, we will keep an eye on you." Loki smiled back, beyond certain that Underworld would become a better place from now on.

A little while later, after you'd said your very few goodbyes, a small group of guards led Loki and you towards the surface. It was a rather long journey, and certainly as confusing in its variety of paths as it could be, but it would be worth it, after all.

"I cannot wait to see the sky again…" Loki sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I've never actually…" You shrugged in the same quiet as your words trailed off into silence.

"You haven't ever seen the sky?" He wondered in sincere surprise, but then it dawned on him that the king probably hadn't allowed anyone to come to the surface but the guards for their occasional pickup of stranded people, like Loki had been. "Well, let me tell you, it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen."

You returned a smile, and Loki knew that you would love the sky just as much as he did. After the longest march, you finally arrived at the surface with its whipping winds of actual fresh air, and Loki felt like he had been starved of deep breaths. He thanked the guards, and at last stepped out of the tunnels together with you. And while you admired the millions of stars in the nightsky in utter amazement, Loki only had eyes for you. Yes, you were better than the sky. Better than the stars, than fresh air, than freedom. And definitely better than any kingdom could ever be.

Once you finally were able to tear your eyes away from the sky to look at Loki, he was smiling at you in all the adoration he didn't bother to hide anymore.

"What?" You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck with a smile of your own, pulling him closer.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you a glorious kingdom where we are going." He replied with a half smile, pulling you closer by your hips. There was no reality, no version of time and space in which he would ever let you go again.

"I'll be just fine wherever you are. Don't worry so much, Loki… I'm quite content with the multitudes that exist solemnly in our minds." You smirked at him, and Loki couldn't help but grin back. Yeah, you two would definitely mess up New Asgard. Quite possibly Earth in its entirety. And he literally couldn't wait.

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#loki fanfic #loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki (marvel)#loki of asgard #Loki smut #loki fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #i found

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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years

Text

The Words upon the Window Pane | Chanyeol

Genre: Smut, Angst (only a wee bit), PwP

Pairing: Auhor!Chanyeol x Reader

Warnings: Top!/Dom!Chanyeol, fingering, unprotected wall sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses!), subtle dom/sub themes, swearing/cussing, dirty talk, love bites

Summary: The relation between Logic and Passion is often difficult for artists and certainly so when the involved parties dabble in words. Because language has the power to conceal the truth, to say what otherwise might not be said.

The words upon the window pane.

However, one night, a mouth is brave enough to at last utter them.

And to bring about unexpected consequences.

Author’s Note: The title is derived from the play of the same name by W.B. Yeats, who is, as you may or may not know, one of my favourite poets and greatest inspirations as of late. Furthermore, this is the first EXO smut piece to be written by this wee birdy, which hopefully shall not disappoint more experienced EXO-Ls.

All in all, I hope you enjoy the work of a feather.

Making a living as an author is not easy, especially when starting out and having only a single book to one’s name. However, Voice is not merely a literary tool to use in order to be heard, since it can also realistically become audible when speaking. All in all, it remains a fluent phenomenon and so it is of great benefit to storytellers to have mastery over it. To provide experiences that ignite vivid imagery thanks to simply creating an ambience with sound when not craftily doing the same on the page. Such is the talent of the author rapidly grown popular online due to a deep voice and funny personality, thousands of women drooling over the tailored experiences provided to them on multiple platforms.

But none of them has ever gotten the real deal, their sensual emotions remaining one-sided whereas those of a newbie novelist are answered.

Sometimes.

The relationship started after the romance department of the same publishing house contracting the famous erotic writer took a bold chance by offering a contract to an unknown name having just completed a manuscript about an innocent coffee shop romance. During the meeting with the assigned editor, icy pale locks wandered into the modern cafeteria and toward the table where a conversation about the next steps towards actual publishing took place, sitting down wordlessly and merely observing. Withal, basalt irises blatantly ignored rapidly flushing rosy cheeks on the adjacent seat, focused intently on the ones across the table that tried to maintain a steady composure.

Yet it crumbled bit by bit as genuine interest was shown during a spontaneous proposal to drink coffee together sometime after the editor held a brief round of introductions at the end of the important chat, which had gained an unintentional third participant. Piece by stiff piece got chipped away over warm beverages thereafter, talking about upcoming manuscripts and the professional giving a newbie a couple of tips to not stumble and, perhaps, fall without hopes of getting up.

And were entirely smoothed out among the sheets after the daring kiss when goodbye came on the first proper dinner date, Chanyeol leaning in without hesitance to rapidly turn a chaste caress of the cheek into sin once having been escorted safely to the front door of one’s own roof.

To make a heart fall for one which is unbound, according to the rumours spoken by the female tongues which all supposedly possess a sensual experience of sorts concerning the novelist. Notwithstanding, one can talk but not say anything, let alone the truth. Withal, the gossip has expanded while being in a strange type of relationship, always being the first to propose something to do and bleached smooth strands simply agreeing if the busy schedule allows it, of course. Spontaneous proposals for a movie night or trying out a new café are one-sided, the first time drinking coffee together being the sole occasion on which it came from the distant beloved. However, during the opportunities to be together, it never fails to feel genuine.

Sincere in spite of the mouths believing it is merely about sex, warning to get out now before it is too late.

The logical ship has left the safe haven.

It is too late.

Regardless of bravely sailing in an individual sea, the doubt can never be kept at bay since it lurks as a kraken in the darker waters coming up on the journey every now and again. After all, the fans of the deep voice catering supposedly “exclusive” experiences for them would loathe the fact their imaginary lover actually has a girlfriend. Moreover, the serpents roaming the office keep telling tales that steadily grow arms and legs, each limb stemming from the period in which minds were apart.

Those spans of time increase in frequency.

Lunch grows lonelier.

Days are spent in isolation.

Reassuring words do not hold significance on the floor of the publishing house nor on those of one of our apartments on a lucky night.

No acknowledgement.

All there is, is vagueness.

Just something.

Something.

Undefinable.

Certainly not pretty or comforting.

Empty. Yes, that is the best way to describe it.

Hollow, lonely, one-sided.

Unrequited.

And it takes away the hunger at the dinner table beneath the luxurious roof, the expensive wine and home-cooked meal using high-quality ingredients holding as much inherent value as a shilling in the gutter. So the fork is put down, the bite laboriously swallowed and focus averted from the porcelain plate presenting little yet seeming too stacked.

‘Baby, are you alright?’ Head cocked to the side in wonder, Chanyeol stops mid-bite, sensing something is off.

Something.

Always something is off.

Right now, it finds a voice in a lowly muttered remark as disappointed fingers shove the still full plate and cutlery away as far as possible. The stomach can live with the stone in it, like the heart slowly freezing itself thanks to the vicious tales of betrayal can continue to exist in ice. After all, even this week’s audio consisting of ‘’sexy’’ unboxing ramblings and testing out toys sent by mistresses somewhere else is but a mere drop in the overflowing bucket. ‘I’m not hungry.’

The limit has been reached.

End of the line.

Of this.

Us.

If there even ever has been a happy chronicling couple.

‘You’ve barely eaten.’ The unsuspecting fork picks up a perfectly grilled asparagus, endeavouring the feed a soul starved of happiness. A perfectly useless attempt at making things right for the culprit knows very well what goes on behind the scenes that are enacted every time at the workplace, the little faked though credible moments of two youngsters being solely friends but perhaps a bit more. No one knows for sure, but they do assume. Gossip has a way of being heard, even when feigning to ignore it in favour of personal fantasies. ‘At least have a few more vegetables.’

‘Did it...’ A wry smile carves itself on a face which is on the edge of tears, remembering every word said at the collective coffee machine in the cafeteria alongside the lovesick comments on every digital upload and equally sensual reaction to a novel novel. How can the detailed storyteller not notice the burning water droplets searing their way to the lash line?

Begging.

Begging to fall.

To be noticed.

Because they have had to hide so bloody long in loneliness.

Denied.

A significant detail.

‘Did it mean anything?’ God forbid that the words spilt between the sheets, on dates and in secrecy in the coffee corner did not hold any meaning. Withal, knowing how writers are for the craft is part of one’s own personality, there are no better tricksters. Words can be made pretty, cunningly serving to conceal the ugly truth.

‘What? Did what mean anything? Babe, what are you on about?’ The uncomprehending gravely worried furrowed brows relax, raven irises softening as they discover the tale of the Ice Queen’s heart and damnably igniting the thawing process. Looks can kill, as is the word on the street, and the big pale wolf knows it judging by the gentle smile only reserved for his foolish mistress. ‘You’ve been listening to gossip again. Look, I’ll say it again and I still mean it. I love you, Y/N. Only you. You ought to know that by now.’

The supposedly well-meaning palm resting between the abandoned dishes is not lovingly covered, digits remaining apart instead of entwining in blissful union. Instead, the chair is pushed back as the napkin that formerly rested on the lap is viciously thrown onto the table surface. Voice is barely controlled, dangerously close to cracking yet forced to maintain steady fury. ‘Don’t fucking lie to me! I know this means nothing.’

‘Means nothing? This means nothing?’ The actions are fiercely mimicked, the pleading tone in speech overruling the fabricated calm demeanour. ‘It does, babe. It really does.’

‘Yeah, right. As if you haven’t said that to one of those horny dolls who gladly listen to their fantasy boyfriend or read about all the wonderful things you’d do to them. What did you call them again? Your honeys?’ There is no stopping the jeering guided by the incomparable ache rendering every nerve paralyzed, an alternative ego who feels betrayed rising with every second of the outburst.

In the end, she, too, is one of many.

I am nothing.

‘Babe, please-’ Agonizingly following footsteps attempt to reason, begging to stay for a proper vis-á-vis to resolve this “problem” while making their way to the hallway.

Evidently without success. ‘Oh, piss off. I’m sure you had others in the time I was gone.’ The searing tears on lashes in the wee hall finally stream down the cheeks, lost in bittersweet memories of a time ruled by naivety. When every touch was so certain of love, felt protective and was believed to be sincere.

Notwithstanding, that was then.

This is now.

‘It really meant something to me, you know? I fucking gave myself to you because I stupidly trusted you, Chan! You were my first.’ A shake of the head brings about enough steadiness to remain coherent in speech, to at least keep a total breakdown at bay a little longer. The battle is almost won, a little bit more perseverance needs to be put in before all might become actually well. ‘But I could’ve, no, should’ve known better. So fuck off and leave me alone.’

Just as a hand reaches towards the knob of the front door, a firm palm wraps painfully around the left wrist. Once that power was loved, but now it is just that: hurt.

And it wants… needs to be left behind.

To make it pay for the solitude.

The agony needs to face the consequences.

‘No.’

The pain in the shape of the man who was believed to make up the world.

Stupid.

We both only have our stories to speak honestly in because they are the sole place where it is possible to be true.

Funny how a broken heart ignites a sense of creativity to exploit and there is a sudden haste to make use of it. Or so the mind wants this to be the reason behind the futile struggle for freedom for the real reason is the simple need to get away before breaking the character of the hard-headed sneering Ice Queen and leave oneself in fragments on the battlefield. ‘Let. Me. Go.’

A vicious tug makes feet stumble away from the entryway and slam into the wall opposite the stairs, Chanyeol’s face mere inches away and obsidian irises burning with sorrowful rage that has grown from incomprehension. All acting halts at once, alarmed breath coming out ragged as the powerful gentleman is sought frantically on a quietly raging beautiful expression. ‘I won’t. Not until you finally listen to me and know who you belong to, young lady.’

Slender digits clad in a chic ink-black jacket roughly push aside underwear, unapologetically disappearing beneath the skirt to exert sexual dominance as lips powerfully nullify all chances at protest. ‘This is mine. Only mine. All I can think about these days, so much so I can’t even write without giving you a role in my novel.’

The possessive growling fuels the heat below, slowly reducing the hurtful stretch, as all vocabulary is lost in the marks left behind on the throat by stark white teeth. Miraculously, the ability to resist the temptation remains although it falters and starts to stutter in the strong secure warmth of a familiar palm at the end of the spine. ‘I- I don’t be- believe you.’

‘Who do you think is more credible?’ A rough mind-boggling thrust goes paired with the branding being interrupted to snarl against a slightly open mouth, dominant despite oddly affectionately resting foreheads against one another and chuckling as haphazard fluttery palms rest on broad shoulders. ‘The man who loves you or some women you don’t even know?’

In spite of being barely able to respond, a piece of hateful Logic remains and is capable of jeering and mocking the question that should have served to set things right. ‘But y- you could’ve fucked.’

‘I didn’t. Listen to me, young lady.’ The hand that formerly rested on the small of the lower back rises to envelop the throat, forcing a lock of gazes while enchantingly cutting off access to air. ‘Ever since we met, I’ve been yours. I’d never give anyone else a role in my novels because nobody inspires me like you do.’

‘D- Don’t stop.’ There is too much deliria to persist in protesting, each movement beneath fabric erasing the thought of resisting the platinum wolf as soon as it arises. Instead, it gives rise to memories of beautiful naive nights that make up the horror and delight of an insane mistress of letters, both inside the pages and outside.

Throwing the heart back into bittersweet love.

‘Ah, there she is. There’s the helpless little slut I know.’ With an ashamedly wet noise, slim fingers undo the bodily connection that had been greedily gone along with, leading to an inevitable displeased whine that evokes a lovely dark chuckle.

A nudge of the nose asks to follow the focus of the seemingly only sane mind, see what the writer wants to be noticed without resorting to loathsome spoon-feeding. It is all in the details, that is where the heart of the tale lies. ‘See that?’

Lashes flutter innocently as gaze wanders lower and lower to restricting dusk-shaded denim, wordlessly remarking on the considerable outlined shape that the idiotic heart and persona meant to have walked out the door greatly want to exploit. ‘Only you do that to me, Y/N.’ An almost sweet peck on the forehead turns attention upward briefly before receiving another on the lips, after which a command makes hands act in too enthusiastic desirable greed. ‘Undo the zipper.’

It takes little time nor effort to force down sturdy and elastic fabric to bare burning desire to the chill air in the hallway. And it takes even less than that very same moment to be pinned against the wall once again, thighs supported by iron hands promising to never let go, and directly connect in body and soul.

Willingly.

Beautifully.

‘Fuck, every time is like the first. I remember our, grm, hrm, first night. How you begged me to go harder-’ the speed accelerates, snarls growing more and more savage with every advance as behaviour, too, becomes wonderfully harsher, ‘rough you up. All the while acting like an innocent doe, turning me on. Mewling, pinned to the bed, forced to take me. God, I love it when you’re like that. Helpless. Powerless. Submissive.’

Every word is accentuated by an animalistic thrust, a sweet kiss on the side of the neck contrasting with the teeth leaving behind plum marks of possession at equal intervals. A low rumble of delight at platinum locks being pulled on vibrates in the buff chest lovingly keeping the spine against the wall, rejoicing in the flowing waterfall of mere meek noises.

Exactly as we were during the first night.

Loving now as we had before.

Honestly.

Snarling sweet nothings against skin while erasing every thought in the chase for the satisfaction of primal desire. When tears of analyzed sadness turned into those of unadulterated pleasure. ‘Crying as you take my cock deep inside that dripping little pussy.’

‘Cha- Chanyeol-’ There are no words to break through the haze of bittersweet nostalgia, leaving the sentence unfinished. It does not matter for all focus is turned towards reaching temporary enlightenment as fast as possible in the most savage manner.

‘Cum on that cock, baby. Cream that fucking cock.’

Any sense of resistance that somehow managed to linger, loathing Logic deeming the act wrong in every aspect and begging for liberation, is erased in an instant as the command is pressed onto firm lips.

It is wonderful.

Incredibly gorgeous.

Having Chanyeol wrap his storytelling palm around the throat once more as the other presses bodies together until there cannot possibly be any distance left. Wolfish grunts fall from cushiony lips, chanting maddening “mine, mine, mine”s, while sprinting during the final bit of the primitive race, soon reaching the white light found between shivering thighs.

Who are crying silently in a paradoxical mixture that cannot be kept alive consisting of sensual delight, heartbroken self-hatred and rage directed towards loved pale locks.

Tears to, fortunately, be noticed once reason returns enough to no longer be under the influence of the desirable beast beneath the skin. Henceforth, it is the incredible author who affectionately wipes away the droplets running over the cheeks as onyx irises soften in comprehension of pain. ‘Hey, don’t cry, Y/N. Remember what I promised you?’

A head shake shows ignorance because there have been a great number of promises until now, which is acknowledged by the low chuckle that never fails to allow the usual guard to be let down and now disrupts the quiet panting betraying a sliver of glad exhaustion. The simple sound never fails to make the chest puff a little in pride and veins to bask in a loving warmth, even after being frozen in place without hopes of crumbling thanks to the vivid rumours floating around the office. ‘I know I have promised you a lot, but one thing is that I’d never make you cry because I’d never dare to break your heart. I genuinely love you, seriously am head over heels for you. Can you believe me when I say that?’

It is hard to respond negatively when bodies are still one and foolishly trusted palms envelop the cheeks, resulting in wavering speech on the verge of cracking. Withal, a little bit of strength is gathered from the tight grip on defined biceps engraved with ink. ‘I wa- want to, but... the gossip...’

‘Listen.’ A long tender kiss muffles the sobs aching to be released alongside the gasp at the sudden hollow feeling when the physical spell is lifted. Another one asks for focus on talking things over instead of paying attention on the faint sound of liquid dripping onto the hallway tiles. ‘You crying makes me want to cry because it hurts me to see you like this. It really does, babe. And people will always talk, but, perhaps, it might help if we go public? I have an interview soon.’

‘People will think I’m only dating you for your money.’ No matter if a statement will be made, the way of thought lies outside the influence of words. Authors know this first and foremost for each sentence that is penned down fails to fully convey what might be going on in vivid imagination and thus fails to be entirely understood.

A bittersweet smile tugs on the corners of the mouth as messy snow white locks fall obscure the sight of lips drawn into a stern line speaking melancholically, mocking oneself. ‘I wouldn’t mind if you’d do.’

With more fierceness than expected, an answer to the rhetorical assumption bursts from a panicked mouth uncensored, clutching the soft fabric of clothes as if not doing so will induce an unbridgeable abyss. ‘But I don’t!’

‘I know that, Y/N. I know.’ Thumbs start to caress the sides of the face, somberly smoothing the anxious sorrow in self-reflection. ‘You know I hate losing, be it games or bets, but- but I- I-‘ Breaths grow short as tears start to brim in the corner of beautiful almond-shaped eyes. Hands fall away from the cheeks to wrap around the middle, the waist caught in a sturdy grip. Foreheads rest against each other and the arms of a claimed mistress wrap around the neck, fingertips playing with the pale strands at the back. ‘I would scorn myself if I’d lose you.’

‘You’ll lose readers if we go public.’ After all, not everyone enjoys a real life romance and certainly not those imagining one individual as their partner while he is, in truth, already faithfully bonded to another woman.

‘Doesn’t matter, I don’t care. If they’re true fans, they’ll be happy for us.’ Chanyeol’s voice has renovated its ocean deep steadiness, tiny lights appearing out of nowhere to illuminate a sudden bright cheery idea in a nightly gaze creating a bit of distance. ‘You know what? I’ll buy you a ring and a matching one for myself so everyone can see you’re mine.’ A palm shows itself from behind the small of the back to grab the left wrist and trace over the second-to-last digit. ‘To wear on this finger.’

‘You’d do that?’

‘Yes.’ The breathless chuckle is strangely melancholic yet delighted, the curious combination taking over demeanour entirely. ‘Yes, of course. Anything to keep you with me.’ The mere embrace suddenly turns into an inescapable hug, broad shoulders blocking out the world that wants to be temporarily forgotten. ‘I want you with me, only you. Please, stay with me. Here.’ The nose often kissed in the morning or cheekily out of sight of the publishing house staff nuzzles the side of the neck, whispering against the warm skin. ‘I want you to move in.’

‘Is that a wish or a command? I’m my own person, you know?’ The weak attempt at humour is seemingly appreciated, Chan tangibly chuckling before sighing in relief when being kissed on the top of the head.

‘There she is, there’s my good clever girl.’ Foreheads come to rest against each other once more in the air scented by whatever remains of dinner, perspiration and our perfumes combined, creating a weird musky howbeit fruity undertone. The chin is lifted by a curled finger after calmly being put to rest against the wall instead of being fully at the mercy of the writer’s engraved arms. ‘But you know very well what I mean, young lady.’

‘I do,’ fingertips bashfully run over the side of the storyteller’s neck, leaving behind a growling trail of anticipating goosebumps before rising to comb through pale strands, ‘sir.’

‘Don’t.’

A peck.

‘Tease.’

A kiss.

‘Me like that.’

Lip caught between teeth.

And freed once having clearly asserted dominance. ‘I’m yours.’ Although the inquiring peck on the cheek does not partake in the sensual teasing but is severe in character. ‘And you’re mine?’

Catching on to the need for credibility, the erotic novelist acknowledges it while sweetly yet sincerely murmuring. ‘Entirely yours. Not just in stories or audios, in real life as well. As long as possible, until we no longer breathe. This I promise.’

And thus this part of our tale ends, the fragment of the middle part leading to the end.

Of that which ink cannot fully capture on paper, in sounds or on skin.

Withal, it is not necessary because we have each other for inspiration and retellings.

Musing.

In love.

In medias res.

#ksmutclub #EXO #EXO smut #EXO x Reader #Chanyeol #Park Chanyeol #LOEY

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animeangelriku · 4 years

Text

Come Morning Light

[also available on AO3!]

After three months of living together in their quaint South Downs cottage, Aziraphale still hasn’t gotten used to this: waking up next to Crowley, knowing it is not a dream but a reality, not the desperate longing of his lovesick heart but the sight that awaits him every day of the rest of their lives.

He always wakes up with the sun, just in time to watch as its first rays stream in through the curtains of their bedroom window and bathe Crowley in a warm, golden light almost as warm and golden as his beautiful eyes, casting a sort of... otherworldly glow over him.

(Not ethereal, because Crowley would take offense to that term, and most certainly not Heavenly, because there is no angel in Heaven who could even compare, who could even come close. Heaven wishes they had someone as brilliant, as magnificent, as brave and wonderful as Crowley. Well, they can’t have him. He’s Aziraphale’s to keep, thank you very much.)

This morning, Aziraphale opens his eyes to find his arms wrapped around Crowley and Crowley’s around him, his head buried in the crook of the demon’s neck, and their bare legs still entwined under the bedsheets. The first observation is not new, they fall asleep holding each other more often than not. The second one is equally unsurprising, given how much Aziraphale loves to rest his head on that spot, breathing in Crowley’s scent.

The third one, however, had never happened before last night, when Aziraphale laid Crowley down beneath him and ran his fingers through every single inch of Crowley’s skin he could touch and felt every one of Crowley’s shivers and heard every one of his gasps and whimpers and sighs and pushed their bodies together until they were both crying out in pleasure and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

Aziraphale pulls his head away only enough to be able to look at Crowley, but he tightens his grip on him as if to reassure his own body that no, he’s not getting out of bed and leaving Crowley, he’s not going anywhere, don’t worry, he’s simply settling into a better position to admire him when—

The first rays of sunlight peek inside their bedroom through the window curtains.

Crowley’s gorgeous mane of hair turns the color of fire, but it’s the fire of a hearth, the fire that brings warmth and safety and comfort against the cold and the darkness, the light that guides you home in the middle of the night.

The bare skin of his shoulders and his arms glistens, making the few freckles he has stand out like starlight in the firmament that is Crowley’s body, and Aziraphale resists the urge to follow their path with his fingers, to trace patterns between them as though they’re constellations only he can see—constellations Crowley will only let him see—because he does not want to wake Crowley from his slumber.

But what truly takes Aziraphale’s breath away, what truly makes him forget that he doesn’t even need any breath, is the complete, absolute tranquility and peace in Crowley’s expression. A few stray curls cover his ear, yet Crowley remains untroubled, at ease with the world as it slowly starts to wake up, the rays of the sun covering him like a second skin. His brow is relaxed, openly vulnerable in a way Aziraphale has seldom seen before, and he feels his corporation brimming with joy at the trust Crowley has in him, unafraid of letting the angel see him like this.

He is Temptation Incarnate, he is Perfection Incarnate, he is the most miraculous being to exist in the universe, and Aziraphale loves him with every single atom and particle of his essence, with everything the Almighty gave him when she breathed life into him.

Aziraphale buries his head on Crowley’s shoulder, on the crook of his neck, and squeezes him more tightly, pressing himself as close to him as he physically can, clutching his back like a lifeline, feeling Crowley’s heart beating, thrumming against his chest, and he blinks back the overjoyed tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He never knew it was possible to love someone this much and this fiercely.

He hasn’t fought anyone in over six thousand years, always preferring to remain in the sidelines, go unnoticed, stay away from the center of attention, but he is still Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden, (Ex-) Wielder of the Flaming Sword, and if anyone thinks they can take Crowley away from him, they’ve got another thing coming.

Hell (and Heaven) hath no fury like the true Righteous Wrath of a smiting angel.

Crowley stirs in his arms, and before he has even woken up, he is already coiling his arms around Aziraphale, his lips already pressed to his hair and kissing his scalp, and Aziraphale shudders. He breathes in Crowley’s scent and relishes the contented sigh he gets in response.

“Angel,” Crowley murmurs, drowsiness laced through his voice, and Aziraphale is smitten, infatuated, hopelessly besotted. He can’t help lifting his head to kiss Crowley’s mouth, he really can’t.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbles against him. He adores Crowley’s name, the name he chose for himself, making it part of who he wanted to be rather than who others expected him to be. Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. Aziraphale should really say his name more often than he does. “Crowley, my Crowley.”

Crowley giggles into their kiss, still too sleepy to notice he did something as unbecoming as giggle.

“Angel,” he says again. And then he says, sounding like he does after they’ve finished a third bottle of wine, “Angel, my angel.”

Lord above, Aziraphale loves him so.

“Marry me,” he says before he thinks the words through, before he realizes he’s even thinking them at the moment.

Crowley pulls away from him to look him in the eyes, his golden, serpentine ones wide and fully awake now.

“What?” he asks in a small, quiet voice.

Aziraphale has thought about it, of course. It’s a silly concept to apply to beings of their nature, marriage, but oh, that hasn’t stopped him from imagining how it would feel like to call Crowley his husband, from mouthing the words to himself while Crowley is out working in their garden, from picturing them wearing matching rings to showcase their love to everyone around them.

Perhaps it’s too silly a concept. They are already everything to each other, they do not need a piece of paper or rings to know that.

Aziraphale has remained quiet for a longer time than is apparently acceptable, because Crowley cups his head in his hands and gazes into his eyes with a devotion so fierce it makes his heart pound ferociously in his chest.

“Aziraphale. What did you say?” he asks in the tone of someone who heard something he’s wanted to hear for a long time and is afraid he misheard or misunderstood.

Aziraphale smiles. Of course Crowley wouldn’t think it silly. They’ve already gone native, what’s another wonderfully human creation more?

“Crowley,” he begins, determined to get it right this time. “My darling, my dearest, my love, will you marry me?”

Crowley grinning—not smirking, actually grinning—is one of the most beautiful sights Aziraphale’s life has been blessed by. He radiates happiness like he radiates sin, a wave so strong that it overwhelms Aziraphale, and when Crowley leans back in to kiss him again, Aziraphale gasps into it, his lips curving into a grin to mirror Crowley’s.

“Yes,” Crowley says, “Aziraphale, yes,” and kisses him like they’re already at their wedding, their smiles so wide that their teeth clash, and Aziraphale’s hands pull Crowley flush against him, and Crowley’s hands pull Aziraphale’s head closer to kiss him more deeply, and his delighted laughter starts in his throat and ends in Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale has never known bliss like this.

Later, Crowley will hold Aziraphale’s hand and slip on it a ring he’s had since the first time they crossed paths in Rome, a gold snake that curls around his finger and whose head rests just below his knuckle. Even later, Aziraphale will get Crowley a silver ring with a small, round emerald in the middle and an angel wing engraved on either side of it on the band, and he will get down on one knee in front of Crowley and slip the ring on his finger and allow Crowley to pull him to his feet to kiss him senseless.

For now, though, they hold each other close and keep kissing and smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths until they fall back asleep with the rising sun streaming its last early rays through their bedroom window.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #riku's fics

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nadineselfships-archived · 4 years

Text

I was tagged by @lildreamysoul to answer questions with Wade!! I am really excited to do this thank you Ash!! 💜💜

Yes, thank you Ash, it was about time I got my well deserved screen time! I'm sure you all missed me, I know I missed you!

Of course they missed you, now let's get into these questions!

Lay 'em on me baby!

1. Introduce yourselves. Who are you? What do you like to do?

Your local dumbass Nadine reporting for duty! I work with my sibling Remy at our company Sinclaire Industries but I spend most of my time at Wade and I's home, avoiding paperwork and taking care of the kids.

And I am the one and only Deadpool, might of heard of me or seen my movies? With Reynolds, yeah, that guy can play me any day, what a cutie amirite? But anyway, if you somehow don't know me, I'm the adorable merc with a mouth that never shuts up and i somehow tricked Nadine into marrying me.

We used to like to do a lot of dumb shit together, if you saw us anywhere there would be a building on fire somewhere behind us and probably unholy demons we accidentally unleashed chasing us after stealing something we shouldn't have.

Ah, good times. Yeah, now days we spend every second spoiling the kiddos, spending as much time with them as possible. My favourite part of the week is family movie night, nothing feels better then being in a giant cuddle pile of people you'd do anything for.

2. How was your first meeting like?

So, that's a funny story actually, real funny–I mean, really, hilarious if you will.

He was trying to break into the company building and crashed through the window in one of the meeting rooms, where I just so happened to be, in a meeting. Even better, right, he landed on top of me, glass sticking out of him literally everywhere.

I like to think I made a good first impression.

It was an impression, that's for sure.

3. How did you get together? Who confessed first?

Honestly it was a shock either of us managed to just accept our feelings, telling each other was a whole other ballgame. But, I got frustrated and decided to just tell him how i felt and that uhm, went, bad. It went bad.

It didn't–It wasn't, that, bad.

You fell off the statue of liberty and didn't talk to me for two weeks.

It was a lot to take in! How are you supposed to deal with a heartfelt confession from your crush?

I don't know–I got him to talk to me eventually anyway, I just had to corner him in an alleyway which was easy because he'd been following me like a creep. We decided to take it slow from there and well, here we are!

4. What are your thoughts on PDA

I never used to be a fan of it because of my social anxiety but Wade makes me feel safe and when i'm with him i forget about everything else and don't mind smothering him in kisses no matter where we are or who's watching!

PDA is my jam. I don't care what's happening I'm gonna be lovin' on my baby, kisses, cuddles n' all that good stuff, anytime, anywhere! Not even the end of the world could keep me away from giving Nadine the love they deserve!

You're making it mushy s t o p abshdhfakdk-

5. How do you show your affection towards each other/what are your love languages?

Oh gosh I dunno, I guess we do a lot of everything? Mainly physical touch though, we like to show how we feel through our actions but I do like to tell Wade I love him at least a million times a day.

Yeah, we don't really do gifts or anything, but we do take care of each other and sometimes has those mushy three am conversations about how much we mean to each other. And I don't say it a million times a day but I do leave sticky notes for Nadine to find throughout the day, not sure what that counts as.

It counts as being the best husband in the world. 💜💜

I'll take that!

6. Who's more introverted and who's more extroverted?

Nadine is my cute lil' hermit who likes to live in their cave while I'm their brave, handsome social butterfly–Gotta lot of friends and fans to keep up with yanno.

Yeah, ideally I'd never leave the house, but I got a job to do and kids to take to school, Wade just has a higher social meter than I do.

7. Who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

Wade is the little spoon and I'm the big spoon!! I love holding him around his waist and nuzzling my face into his back!!

Sometimes we'll have one or three of the kiddos crawl into bed with us and then it's more of a cuddle pile than anything. The cutest, most comfortable cuddle pile ever.

8. What do you like doing together most?

If it's just the two of us? I love when we get to sleep in and cuddle in bed, talking and barely making sense and sharing lazy kisses and just, not having to think about anything else. I love that.

Awe babe I'm gonna cry! I gotta agree that's some healing shit, nothing better. Well, I do have another favourite activity to do in bed but we'll keep to the sweet stuff today.

9. Tell us a fun fact about the other!

Wade will stay up all night sometimes just watching the kids, it's really sweet and it also means I don't have to get up if the baby starts crying because Wade's already there rocking her and singing her a lullaby. Fun fact, he's a great dad.

Okay wow, just expose me like that then. Two can play at that game dearest; Nadine was so worried about the kids having good birthdays they planned a lot of them up until their eighteenths, with wiggle room for shifting interests, which, I think, is the most adorable thing in the world.

Shut up that's, a normal parent thing.

Not it's not babe, it's really not. But it's very cute. ❤

10. Tag other selfshippers and their f/o's.

Okay let's see, we tag; (feel free to ignore this if you're not feeling up to it, i tried to tag everyone who interacted with the post i made💜)

@space-sweetheart and Fredrick

@pink-n-purple-honey and Ramuda

@millizines and Earnest

@rose-wine-selfships and Atsushi

@shippin-in-the-rain and Soren

@promptoargentumsgirlfriend and Prompto

@poetryandnightmares and Julian

@thedevilsrosee and Kali

@jinxthequeergirl and Poe

@houseof1000selfships and Cad

@disneymarina and Leon

@puppy-self-ship and Freddy

@pkselfship and Sylvain

@wildcardwithaheart and Loki

@lovesick-clownlord and Hades

@jaklovemail and Ash

@junkratsloverat and Jamie

@ollievoil and Robotnik and Stone

And anyone else who wants to do this!!

#Tagged 4 me #Wadine #i hope i tagged everyone and their f/o's correctly adjfhldhf i don't know a lot of you but hi have fun with this you and your f/o's are cut #i had trouble finding people f/o's so i didn't tag ones where i couldn't find them sorry y'all ;;v;;#but anyway!!! this was really fun i love my dumb husband thank you for taggin us ash ilysm #longpost #Inside The Fourth Wall

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sightofsea · 5 years

Text

@pirategf requested some post-church bombing stuff. i already wrote a little ficlet here, but it prompted me to go further.

I highly suggest y’all listen to this when prompted. Trust me, you’ll know when.

i also take fic prompts so please drop me an ask if u so desire

two slow dancers last ones out

The car ride is long and quiet—or, to Aziraphale, it is long and quiet. In reality the ride from the church to the bookshop is ten minutes, but something strange happens to time when love gets involved. It gets all stretched out, and twisted, and generally seems to become a bit of useless putty. If Aziraphale were to be asked what he remembers from the drive, he would say he remembers the heat radiating from the suitcase handle. He would remember the scattered streetlights making a halo glow on Crowley’s profile. He would remember a sickening, sinking feeling, and a wonderful rising one—both of them the same thing.

If Crowley were to be asked, he would surely say that the drive was relatively ordinary, nothing to write home about. But, then again, he’s had better practice at this feeling.

When they do arrive at the bookshop, Aziraphale is too dazed to realize that Crowley has gotten out of the car. He takes in a shaky breath, something catching his lungs, before exiting as well. He holds the suitcase in front of him with both hands. Crowley leans on the car, looking at him.

“Promise me,” drawls Crowley, in a voice thick with derision and sentimentality, “that you won’t go doing something that stupid again.”

Aziraphale chuckles, nods his head to the side. “After tonight, I think I’m through with espionage. It was a good run, though.”

Crowley wrinkles his nose. “Really wasn’t.”

Aziraphale concedes. “No, I suppose not.” He looks over to the front door of the bookshop, then the suitcase, then back to Crowley. Crowley is still looking at him. Aziraphale knows what this means, but he can’t bring himself to think much further on it. “I really can’t thank you enough for the books.”

“Anytime, angel,” Crowley hums. His mouth forms a small smile. Aziraphale’s certain Crowley doesn’t even know it’s on his face.

Aziraphale takes a hand off the suitcase and gestures to the door. “Care for a nightcap?”

The smile grows into a grin. “Would love one.”

Two hours later there are three empty bottles of wine on the table. Books are piling onto the couch from where Crowley drunkenly throws back his arms, all right angles, and elbows the shelves. The floor has sooty footprints. These will all be gone tomorrow, put back to where they came from. Like the night never existed. It’ll take another fifty years for the sooty footprints to find their way back to this place.

But that is then. This is now, and now Aziraphale is drunk and in the process of falling in—well. He’s falling, at any rate.

He hasn’t seen Crowley in nearly a century, and that as well is doing something funny to him. Like picking up a music box from childhood, hearing the song play and remembering the quilt you used to snuggle into every night.

Crowley is staring at one of the books on the couch. He’s picked it up and taken off his glasses to read it better—his eyes squint to read the words. His hair is slicked back with gel, and it looks like brick streets after rain. He looks so lovely, and like he’s done nothing at all. Like the world hasn’t titled seventy-three degrees to the right, like something isn’t wriggling into his nervous system, two more lovesick realizations away from gnawing for his marrow. Like Aziraphale isn’t beginning to realize, very quickly, that he could look at Crowley for ages like this and not come away the slightest bit bored.

“I want to dance,” he says, dumbly. The thought falls out of his mouth before he’s finished thinking it. Crowley looks at him, and as with being intoxicated and in love he finds himself very brave in a way he knows he won’t be in the morning. “Care to join?”

Crowley stares. Without the glasses, Aziraphale watches as his eyes go wide. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, perhaps something slow. Too much movement tonight, you understand.” Please tell me you understand. Please don’t ask me any questions. “Perhaps a waltz.”

“Do you even know how to waltz?”

“No. But you could teach it to me.”

Crowley blinks, eyes going half-lidded with alcohol and—and something, which Aziraphale will not name. It becomes real if you name it. It becomes ten times more dangerous, if you give it something to call itself.

“I choose the music,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale smiles. “As you wish, dear.” And he feels like there’s blood in his sternum, and he hopes that he can be very, very brave.

The music that comes off the record does not belong in Aziraphale’s collection, but it’s here anyway. Aziraphale stands in the middle of the compass of the bookshop, truly feeling the power of being in all directions at once. Crowley sets the needle down, and stands there for a bit. Aziraphale watches as he clenches his fists, spreads them wide, then clenches them again. It’s like he’s getting to used to having hands again. Then he turns.

“Right,” he says. He takes in a deep breath, the tension trying to leave his shoulders. “It’s easier if you lead.” He walks to meet Aziraphale, stands, and clears his throat. “If you would.”

He smells like ash. Aziraphale starts. “Hm? Oh. Yes. Um.” He tentatively places a hand on Crowley’s hip and tries to not dig his thumb into the bone there. Crowley rests a hand on his shoulder like he’s touching the flame of God. He grabs Crowley’s hand where it lay slack, and feels the grip tighten as it’s hoisted into the air by a pair of crooked elbows. “What do I do next?”

Crowley is looking at their hands. “Er,” he mumbles. “Truth be told, I don’t actually know how to waltz.”

He looks like it’s a confession. And it is, in a way. But it’s going to fall on deaf ears tonight. It’s going to be like it was never said at all, because Aziraphale is the one who asked him to dance in the first place. Because Aziraphale invited him inside and is trying to keep his grip feather-light but is barely able to do so. Because this is, in essence, a balancing act. Most dances are.

“Well,” says Aziraphale. “We’ll just have to figure it out on our own then.”

The first song on the record has already passed over their heads. The next one floats in, all twinkles and flutes. A smooth voice is crooning out the words. There’s a somebody I’m hoping to see…

Aziraphale takes a step forward. Crowley follows. They sway a little bit in the music. He feels his nerves smile on his face, feels the power of being pulled in all directions. And then Crowley he looks Crowley dead in the eyes. There’s a look on his face that says It’s been a long night. I’m very tired. It says I’m half-frightened. It says We don’t have to do this now. This can wait a little longer.

The pull snaps. He finds himself in the middle of the room, with Crowley, and he’s—

He is dancing with him. That is all that matters.

He slides his hand from Crowley’s hip and onto the small of his back, bringing them closer in slow, small steps. They’re essentially making a lazy circle. The record hums. I’m a little lamb whose lost in the wood. I know I could, could always be good…

He rests his chin, his lips against Crowley’s shoulder. He still smells like ash, but here’s it less brimstone and church fires and more a warm hearth, in the corner of a house, making something nice for the evening. Perhaps a pot of tea.

Aziraphale looks out at the world with frightened eyes. The warm glow of the bookshop lights floods the room with warmth. He feels like he’s too small the carry all of this, the aching. The great expanse pushing at his ribs. The suitcase lies next to the gramophone. Tomorrow, the books will be in their proper place, but the case will find itself tucked away in the flat upstairs. Over the years it will hold many more things—no books, but restaurant receipts. Lost scarves. Photographs.

He feels Crowley rest his cheek against the top of his head, feels his hand move from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. There’s a sigh, and Aziraphale closes his eyes.

The basic elements of dancing are very simple when you get down to it: bodies, some music, and motion. The music and the motion are all subject to change. This we know well.

The deep voice sings further. Although I may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, to her heart I’ll carry the key.

But the bodies. The number of bodies usually stays the same. They are always two.

Tomorrow they will not speak about this. They will pretend they forgot. There’s too much of the world ending right now. But they will remember it and remember it again and again and again. The heavy blanket of dusty air. The fingers digging in. The swaying, side to side. Not saying a word. Perhaps this is the real thank you. Perhaps this is something they will discuss, eighty years down the road. Perhaps it will be something they repeat.

Won’t you tell her please to put on some speed? Follow my lead, oh, how I need…

But that is then. Let’s focus on now: two bodies, in the middle of a bookshop. They are swaying in half-darkness, staying firmly in the middle of the compass. They know the song will end, but that isn’t the point.

…someone to watch over me.

The point is this: it’s one song. There’s a whole record to dance through. And in between the notes Aziraphale can think, very dangerously, that this feeling feels a little bit like love.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #my fic #i know the song is terribly anachronistic but bare with me....its sweet

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dolce-escrivain-blog · 5 years

Text

lovesick - a ruben loftus cheek imagine

PART ONE | PART TWO

word count: 2068

featuring: ruben loftus cheek & y/n

synopsis: part three of the series

Three weeks. That's how long it's been since you last heard from Ruben since you've last seen Ruben. The last time you saw him was on a picture his girlfriend had posted on her Instagram. You felt like shit when you saw it. The picture was just a reminder of what you really are to Ruben and what you'll never be to him.

You told yourself to move on and so you did. His name is Harry, he's sweet but he's not Ruben. He helps you forget though, at least for a little while. You've had to learn to shut Ruben's memory out and it takes a real effort from you. Your attempts are successful most times but whenever you're alone little by little your concentration lapses until you can hear the name Ruben screaming out from every single pore of your body. Then suddenly your mind is swamped by a flood of memories of his eyes, the touch of his hands, his smile, the feeling of his body on top of yours, his throaty moans and lustful kisses… It's the same shit every day. You lay still on your back trying to think of anything but Ruben. But it's as if he's hiding behind your eyelids. As soon as you close your eyes his face appears, enveloping your mind as if he's been waiting for you. "Could you close the door please!"

There's no answer. You watch as clouds of white steam pour out of the bathroom from the half-open door and dance directly towards you as you lay on the bed. You've spent the entire day with Harry and it's been dreadful. It's not that you don't like Harry--he's alright--it's just the simple fact that he isn't Ruben that irks you.

Irritated, you crawl out of bed and walk across the room to the window, combing your fingers through your hair. The scene outside the window seems to mirror your feelings; dark and gloomy. Feeling even more depressed you slump into the chair near the window and let out a long sigh. You feel like crying but you hold the tears in. "What are you looking at?" Harry is standing behind you. He’s a handsome guy, but he's got a sort of vulnerable look to him that makes you feel sad and even more of a shitty person when you look at him. On days when you feel like you've finally gotten over Ruben, you give him all the love in the world but when those Ruben feels come back and hit you hard, you're back to being cold and pushing him away. "We should go out tonight, what do you think?" You shrug still looking out the window. The clouds look as though they're about to burst. "Come on Y/N we've been in here for days. Let's go do something fun."

His insistence just makes you even more irritated with him. "I'm supposed to meet up with my friends tonight," you say, still inspecting the clouds. "That's perfect then," I didn't invite you. You have to internally scold yourself for that thought. It's not like he heard you but still, you feel bad. It's not that you don't like going out with Harry, you just don't like being around him when you're with your friends. It just sends out the wrong message, is all. From the corner of your eye, you see Harry already picking out an outfit and dread just washes over you like a tidal wave. Why'd you have to open your big mouth? - You weren't keen on going out but the minute you walk through the doors of your friend's upscale apartment, everyone begins to cheer happily to see your face after so long. It's not long before the laughter and wine put colour back into your cheeks. There are people peppered all around the apartment and a handful of you have gathered around the sitting area. You're all laughing and talking, your conversation a grab bag of random sexcapades, dirty jokes and cynical criticism when suddenly you feel the atmosphere change. You know what's happened, but you would rather die than look up. You don't need to see him, you can already feel his presence and that makes you sick. The apartment is an open plan and from where you're sitting you can see Ruben near the door with his girlfriend tucked comfortably under his shoulder. She's not anything special--there are plenty of other girls just like her across the country. All she's got going for her is her simple beauty and fake vulnerability. Ruben's a sucker for that but in all honesty, you never got why Ruben ever got with her in the first place. "I can't believe he's still with her," says you're friend interrupting your thoughts. You break your eyes away from Ruben and look at your friend forcing out laughter but it just sounds pathetic. Most of your friends know that you and Ruben were getting together at some point which is all the more reason for you to feel stupid and embarrassed as you sit there watching Ruben and his girlfriend. When you turn to look back at Ruben, he's already looking directly at you. He looks relaxed in her presence and he looks a bit different to the last time you saw him. His beard is a bit scruffy, so is his hair and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through his hair. You want to look away but he's held your gaze. For a moment you feel as though you're the only two people in the room. You're pulled out of your moment when Harry appears and moves to sit next to you. When you look back up, Ruben is gone. "Are you having fun?" With a tight-lipped smile, you nod and drink the wine in your glass in one big gulp. You feel sick and hot with shock. "Y/N, are you okay?" asks Harry. Your forehead is covered in sweat. "I'm fine. I just need some fresh air," "You sure?" You don't answer him, instead, you just nod and get up from your seat. You're out on the balcony and the night air bites harshly at your skin and you regret not bringing a jacket. It's cold outside but you'd much rather be out in the cold than inside where there's a possibility that you might have to look at Ruben with his girlfriend. You don't have the mental capacity for that. "What are doing out here?" Your heart rate quickens at the sound of his voice, your temperature picking up all over again but you don't turn around. You feel him walk closer to you and he appears next to you, leaning on the balcony rails. "It's bloody freezing," Feeling brave you turn to him and are met with his gaze. Your knees begin to feel weak but you grab onto the railings for support. "Are you seriously making conversation about the weather?" He laughs and you try not to join him but you fail. You should be mad at him, you shouldn't even be talking to him but there you are. He's really gotten under your skin. "Seriously though Y/N, why you out here?" Ruben shifts closer and the closeness makes you flush from embarrassment but your embarrassment soon turns to pure anger. Not being able to cope you turn away from him and look ahead at the view.

"I like the view." What he says next absolutely floors you. "Isn't your lad gonna miss you?" Not believing what he's just said you snap your head towards him and see a devilish, sarcastic smile on his face. "Fuck you." you harshly say, pathetically punching his hard bicep. He laughs as he flinches away playfully. You want to hurt him some more but you feel physically weak and extremely emotional. You turn and start to walk away not wanting him to see you cry.

“Aw your name, I just want to talk!” you hear him call out from behind you. You don't see it but you hear the laughter in his voice. Why was he being this way? Did he enjoy hurting you?

Walking up to Harry you tell him that you feel sick and that you're leaving. He offers to take you home but you decline his offer telling him that you want to be alone and left.

You wander the streets aimlessly. You don't know why you're crying, but you can't stop the tears from streaming down your face. You feel so small and alone, like a lost little girl.

A car you recognize stops beside you, it was Ruben. You keep walking trying your best to ignore him. He lowers the window and sticks his head out.

“Y/N get in.”

As you wipe the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand, you stop and turn. The car slowly drives up beside you and he opens the door for you to get inside. At first, you stand motionless with your arms crossed over your chest but you soon give in and get inside the car.

It's drizzling and the road is wet. Not having the strength to argue with Ruben you just sit there in the passenger's seat, motionless, looking at the empty road ahead of you.

Each time you reach a red light Ruben turns to glance at you, his expression unreadable. All you can manage to do is return his stare. When the light turns green he re-focuses his attention back onto the road and you don't know where to look so you just glance down at his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Please take me home,” your voice sounds so small and pathetic, you don't even recognize it. You feel absolutely miserable.

“Y/N…”

“Please,” you answer holding back tears.

He silently agrees. You carry on driving for a long time with the rain getting stronger, bouncing hard off the windshield. You vaguely see your apartment building come into view and you feel relieved. Your relief doesn't last very long because when you reach the building Ruben parks his car on the side and gets out of the car. He appears again by your door opening it for you. You think of resisting but don't want him to get too wet from the rain.

He follows you inside and you want to scream at him to leave but you're too tired to do that and honestly, you love him too much to do that.

Once inside your apartment, you go upstairs to change out of your wet clothes. When you go back downstairs you find Ruben sitting on the couch. You stand there feeling self-conscious in nothing but an oversized t-shirt.

When he sees you he smiles and a tear escapes your eye.

“Oh Y/N,”

Soon he's standing in front of you trying to embrace you but you try push him away. He's too strong for you and you fail, collapsing into his muscular chest. He engulfs you in an embrace and you sob hopelessly like a baby in his arms. He comfortingly strokes your head but says nothing as you continue to cry, your shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Eventually, you stop and pull back away from him. He grabs both sides of your cheek but you turn your head away from him bit wanting to look him in the face.

“Look at me Y/N,”

You turn to him and almost cry again when you see the sadness in his eyes. He'd ruined you and he knew it.

“Please don't do this,” is all you manage to say.

You try to break free from his embrace but he holds you closer. Your faces inching closer and closer towards each other. You lean forward and connect his lips to yours. He melts into the kiss needing to feel close and connected to you but you pull away walking in the opposite direction, needing to be away from.

You cover your face with your hands. “No, no, no. Fuck!”

“Y/N… ”

“No, just leave!”

“Listen, I'm sorry!”

“Sorry? You're not fucking sorry. You're… Just leave,”

He opens his mouth to say something. Say it, come on just say something. But nothing comes out.

He left. And you collapse onto the floor. You just cry and wail as if you're at death's door. He didn't even look back.

I’m back with more Ruben hehe, I hope you enjoyed babies!

#ruben loftus cheek #ruben loftus cheek imagine #ruben loftus cheek smut #ruben loftus cheek x reader #ruben loftus cheek fluff #chelsea imagines #england nt #football imagine #chelsea #chelsea fluff #chelsea smut

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chinatea · 5 years

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Tattoo/Christian, Superhero AU.

The one where Tattoo is a Superhero and Christian is a reporter who always ends up being saved by him.

(Tat is your generic superman - super strength, super vision, super speed, all that jazz.)

(A fun fact - I actually started writing this as Tattoo/Baby G, but ended up writing Christian, behavior-wise, so I changed the pairing to Tat/Chris. Although there is still a few Baby G-ish traits to him I decided not to edit out, cuz it’s just more fun that way, isn’t it.)

It’s Friday night and Jimin could think of a million ways how to spend it in style.

Like, having a hot bath with candles and a glass of Bordeaux. Classic. One could never go wrong with classic on a Friday night. And that was his plan for the day. Hell, he’s been looking towards it all week, but the plan has changed and that’s why Jimin is not currently soaking in himalayan salts, but instead soaking his ass in some dank-ass basement, all tied and gagged up like someone’s messed up idea of a Christmas present.

(Sadly, that wouldn’t even be the first time - the criminals around here lack both brains and originality, like, big time.)

Times like these, Jimin truly hates this city. Times like these, he swears as soon as he’s outta here, he will pack his shit and catch the first bus out of this hellhole, because he’s had enough of this bullshit.

Why him? Just...why?

A rhetorical question, mind you. He bloody knows why.

It all started with Mr. Titanium Glutes, or Tattoo, who spawned out of nowhere one day, like most superheros do, in his spanking new spandex briefs and has been stealing the front pages across editorials all over city ever since.

Meanwhile, Jimin was just a modest reporter (with awesome hair and scintillating smile) who did his job. And sometimes that job had him doing some footwork, sending him places no-sane-person-would-ever, putting his life at risk and other occupational hazards.

Running away from enraged crime mobs was nothing new to him. Little did he know, however, how much of a pesky menace Tattoo would become once they get to know each other a little better. Despite all Jimin’s attempts to minimize their contact as much as possible.

There is only so much he could do, however. He’s not a miracle worker, after all. His job is dangerous and dangerous spells Tattoo in big sparkling letters. The man would just turn up, whenever a shitstorm rolled in, to save those in need with his superhuman strength.

And yes, Jimin might have been a hair away from the imminent death, but was he in need? Hell no.

He never asked to be saved. Never asked to be held like he was made of glass. And he definitely didn’t ask Tattoo to look at him like a lovesick fool. (Must be the hair, dammit.) Naturally, it was exactly the moment when a million of stringers around the area chose to snap their best winning shot of the day - and ever since that day Jimin has gotten unfortunate notoriety and a new nickname...

Lois Fucking Lane.

Inevitably siccing every single villain who has beef with Tattoo on Jimin’s ass. Which is, like, the entirety of the criminal underworld by now.

Gee, thanks.

“Stupid rope,” Jimin mutters under his breath, struggling to loosen the knot holding his wrists together just enough to hopefully slip a hand out and undo the binds.

Whomever kidnapped him was stupid enough to leave him and his tiny hands unsupervised and is so going to suffer for it, because Jimin also has a superpower - in times of need, his tiny hands have the capacity to become even tinier. He’s a badass like that, obviously.

A few little huffs and puffs later, Jimin lets out a happy little squeal, wiggling his hands free and tackling the foot binds next. Followed by a nasty gag that smells like something Jimin doesn’t want to linger on too much to avoid a lifelong trauma.

Although free and unbounded, it still leaves him locked up inside a dimly lit basement, containing nothing but a rusty tankard left forgotten on a shoddy wooden chair in the corner.

Jimin has a mind to kick it in frustration when he makes out faint footsteps approaching from behind the door. In panic, he grabs the chair, the rusty tankard flying off with much racket.

Jimin cringes, cussing out loud, as he hurries to take point next to the door, readying the chair above his head. If he is to die tonight, at least he’ll take one of those motherfuckers with him.

He holds his breath as seconds stretch into long moments of waiting. Then, the door knob turns and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, smashing the chair down on whomever glides right in.

The man doesn’t even flinch as the chair disintegrates into dust upon contact, raising a cloud of fine specks to float in the air. Jimin stumbles back by the sheer force of the impact, air caught in his lungs. He wheezes loudly, struggling to catch his breath. He feels a hundred years old, for some reason, utterly tuckered out. Who knew that holding that chair for two seconds could be so damn exhausting.

“W-what the hell are you doing here?” he finally stutters out, shooting a glower at Tattoo who just stands there, arms crossed over his massive chest, thoroughly amused by Jimin’s fumbling around.

“Oh c’mon, toots, you just jumped me with a chair. I don’t exactly expect a written apology, but a kiss would be nice, don’t you think?” Tattoo intones as he flicks away a few splinters off his bicep. “Besides, one would think you’d get the memo by now. Your knight in shining spandex has arrived. Now gimme my kiss.”

“Shut up,” Jimin grouses. “Where are the scumbags who kidnapped me?”

“Probably running for their lives now,” Tattoo shrugs. “I’ll deal with them later, don’t worry.”

“If you can find them, that is,” Jimin scoffs.

“Oh I will,” Tattoo adds smugly. “Just like I always find you, toots.”

It occurs to Jimin then that Tattoo indeed is infallible when it comes to tracking him down just in time before the heat. If only he hadn’t been too preoccupied being exasperated with the man half the time, he would have questioned it much sooner.

“Super hearing,” Tattoo explains then, tapping next to his ear, looking like he’s about to burst from smugness. “I always listen in if my toots is in trouble.”

“First, I’m not yours, second, excuse me??” Jimin seethes. “You can’t do that. This is violation of my privacy. I know my rights, dumbass.”

The look Tattoo gives him is far from remorseful. His unapologetic grin shines like a beacon of self-righteousness.

“Then go ahead and sue me, toots. I’d rather have you mad at me than hurt,” Tattoo says before adding in a voice that belongs in a bedroom with moody lighting. “Besides, I usually tune out for a while then you...ah, you know. Even if those are the prettiest little sounds I’ve ever heard anyone make with their mouth.”

Heat creeps onto Jimin’s cheeks as he gawks at Tattoo, feeling disarmed and stripped naked, metaphorically, of course.

“You didn’t...” he whispers.

Tattoo’s big stupid grin tells otherwise.

What a fucking sleazy bastard.

Mind gone black, Jimin turns on his heels and wobbles out of the creaky door and up the steep staircase, so steep in fact, he has to almost crawl up the steps, hating himself for choosing skintight jeans to wear today. As much as he loves how they hug his thighs, he hates the very idea of treating that douchebag to the dreamy panorama of his ass. He doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know that Tattoo is watching him go like a creep.

Because Tattoo is a creep, regardless of how many grannies he saves per day. And Jimin just happened to catch his fancy. Oh woe is him.

He pushes the heavy door and finds himself in a quiet back alley, heaps of trash bags and not a soul in the vicinity.

“Eh, toots?” Tattoo calls after him, hot on his heels, as always.

“I’m not talking to you. Ever.”

“Sure, but I think you’d still like to know that there is a huge damp spot on your ass that looks like you peed yourself, just saying,” Tattoo supplies helpfully. “Did you really pee yourself?”

Tattoo looks genuinely concerned for him while Jimin cranks his neck this way and that to access the damage done. His ass does feel wet to the touch.

“You know it’s okay if you did,” Tattoo continues, nodding to himself. “I won’t judge. We’ve all been there. Well, not me, obviously, but I still find you hot, don’t worry about th-”

“Jesus fuck, will you shut up?” Jimin barks at him. “I didn’t pee myself, you asshole. I sat in a fucking puddle for an hour, okay? And it’s all your damn fault.”

“I know.”

Tattoo sounds somber, for a change, all usual mirth gone, which makes Jimin eye him suspiciously. Did the bastard suddenly grow a conscience?

Then, Tattoo holds his hands out, squeezing the fingers in a grabbing motion, shamelessly lewd.

“Hop on,” he pipes, eyebrows wiggling. “C’mon, toots, you know the drill.”

(Or maybe not.)

A million curses later, Jimin finds himself successfully loaded into Tattoo’s arms. What choice does he have? Brave the streets with damp asscheeks? Hell no.

Arms wrapped around the bastard’s neck, Jimin tries to think happy thoughts - like choking Tattoo to death with his tiny hands which gradually translates into choking Tattoo with his thighs which ends up with Jimin power-riding Tattoo’s face, choking him with his ass.

His thoughts are weird, so what.

He just hopes that Tattoo doesn’t have a telepathic ability or anything of that sort, because…

(He’s totally fucked, isn’t he?)

Only the bastard doesn’t take him home as Jimin belatedly discovers. While in the air, Jimin keeps his eyes squeezed tight because Jimin and heights don’t mix well, so when he opens them, deeming it safe, what welcomes him is not his balcony with petunias from his mum.

“What in the frack is this?” he says, wobbly on his feet, soaking in the sight of a lonely tent on the roof of some apartment building. The inside of the tent, decorated with fairy lights, are layered cozily with blankets and throw pillows. Jimin spies a food basket and a bottle of wine, which leaves little room for misunderstanding - he knows what in the frack this is.

A romantic roof picnic set for two.

He faces Tattoo then, hands akimbo, and taps his foot impatiently, waiting for explanations.

“Well,” Tattoo starts. “I hope you like chicken, toots. It’s organic, I promise.”

“Did I ask you to do this for me?” Jimin asks, unamused.

“No, you didn’t,” Tattoo replies, looking too somber for comfort for the second time this night. His chest sinks with a sigh as he rubs the back of his neck, a touch sheepish. “Listen, I wanted to apologize. Better late than never, right? I’m sorry for making you a target even if it was not my intention, I just...I’ll be back in a second.”

Jimin has barely any time to blink as Tattoo flashes in and out of his sight, only this time, the spandex suit is gone and, in a way, Tattoo is gone, too. What Jimin sees in front of him is a guy in a hoodie, sweats and a pair of round glasses. What the..?

“My name is Jungkook,” the guy says. “Apart from doing, you know, superhero stuff, I’m an average student who majors in culinary arts with a minor in photography. I love video games and working out even though I break pretty much every gear I touch, so I don’t. I have a doting mum and a little brother. They’re normal, by the way, in case you wanted to know. I don’t know why I’m the way I am. My favorite color is yellow and hey, I’m single.”

The guy, Jungkook, wraps his speech up with a stupid wink and even a stupider grin and the only reason why Jimin doesn’t shove him off the roof is because of the major cognitive dissonance he’s experiencing right now.

So he lets it slide, just this once.

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” he says, quiet, hugging himself from the chill of the night. “Why would you expose yourself like that. That’s stupid.”

“Because I think it’s only fair after all I’ve put you through, besides I know that you won’t tell anybody,” Jungkook smiles cheekily. “And I don’t know how about you, but I’m starving, all this superpower can’t sustain itself on air, you know.”

Jimin stares at him as he shakes his head to himself.

“Fine, but only because I’m hungry too, okay? Don’t get any ideas now, brat. This is not a date!”

“Sure, toots. Here, I’ve brought some spare sweats for you.”

“The fuck I’m gonna do with them? Wear them as a dress?” Jimin gripes as he grabs the sweatpants offered, five times his size from the looks of it.

He quickly strips out of his skinnies and tugs those parachutes on as Jungkook crouches over the basket, unloading its contents. Jimin’s stomach grumbles at the mouth-watering smell of food and he mentally wills it to shut the fuck up - he’s been through a lot today and doesn’t need Jungkook being even more smug than he already is.

A total husband material he may be, but Jimin won’t give in.

Not on their first date, anyhow.

“Scooch, or something,” he gripes, settling down next to Jungkook who only scooches closer, unapologetic, and even if Jimin scrunches up his nose at that he doesn’t complain or move away - it’s warmer that way, okay?

(Yep, totally fucked, he is.)

#tattoo/christian #personas au

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thefanficmistress · 5 years

Text

⋆✦⋆The Blind Date: Part 2⋆✦⋆

Richard hasn’t seen you in almost 20 years since you moved from London to Canada for work. Being the little sister to one of his friends, both of you always had a weird relationship filled with laughs and sexual tension. You were the lovesick girl, while he was on his way to fame. Your brother always noticed and teased you about it. Your brother sets you up on a blind date with someone you didn’t expect.

Setting: New York City

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Angst and Fluff

Pairing: Richard Armitage x Reader, Richard Armitage x Female Character, Richard Armitage x You, You X Richard Armitage, Richard Armitage x OC

Context © me

@purplerain85 @shikin83 @jassy2101 @catthefearless @patanghill17 @aelinninielelain @deepestfirefun @richard-crispin-armitage @pixiedurango @xxbyimm @Fizzyxcustard @nowiloveandwilllove @armitageadoration @princecami @princess-of-erebor1992 @leah-halliwell92 @vaneaustation @abiwim @nelswp @nellindreams @hails270105 @raindrops-on-roses142 @: Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. NEW READERS : PART 1

__________________________

PART 2

“Richard!” You giggled with a smile. A smile so wide that you felt an excitement wake inside of you. Like a sun rise that would never set.

Richard in return melted your heart when he shared the most captivating smile and took a step forward to hug you. He bent down slightly, and enveloped you in his arms, and held onto you rather tightly. You closed your arms under his and hugged him at his ribs. He was firm and felt so warm. His cologne smelled sweet, with a hit of lavender or sandalwood. For a moment you forgot where you were and who you were hugging and relaxed into him. He rubbed your back and started to pull away. The absence of his body warmth was torture, but it broke the trance and you fell back into place.

“You are all grown up, duckling.” He stated as he slowly relaxed on one leg and held his head high to look at you. “You know I hate that name Richard.” You shake your head, as you break eye contact with him, and glance around. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” “I have a blind date actually, someone named Jamie.” “Jamie? “He recalls, while nodding his head. “Mark told me not to be late, but it appears that he is.” You stated as you took a deep breath and looked around the entrance to see more people filing in, but no one asked for your name, or stated that they were Jamie. You looked back in time to see that Richard still had his eyes on you.

Richard opened his mouth to speak, but paused, and a devilish smile came across his face, and that familiar twinkle played in his eyes.

“What if I told you that I was Jamie?” Richard asked, as he stepped forward into your personal space, and slipping his hands into the pocket of his black dress slacks. Was he teasing you?

You tilted your head up to follow his movement, and locked eyes with him. He was so close to you that you could feel the heat coming from his body, and the sheer power of his being was overwhelming. For a moment you played with the thought of rising to your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. Something you have never been so brave to do before, but right now, another organ of yours was in overdrive.

“Why would you go under the name Jamie?” “My agents’ idea. So that the press doesn’t get wind of where I am.” “Clever! So, I’m guessing Mark knew that, and just decided not to tell me?” You asked. “Not exactly.” Richard said as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair from your face. His finger gently brushed your cheek, and you shivered at the touch. “So, what do you say? Would you fancy a bite of supper…with me?” He asked as he reluctantly pulled his hand away, still smiling.

You swallowed and cleared your throat. Closing the small space between you both and looking up even further at him. If he was going to tease you, then you were going to tease back. You stuck out your chest a little and it was barely touching his, when you signed and said

“I’d love to join you…. Jamie.” You stated innocently.

You saw as Richard took in a deep breath, his eyes slowly traveled down to your lips, and further to your breast, so you took in a very slow breath, and released it. His jaw tightened, and when he finally looked back at you.

“The pleasure is all mine, little duckling.” Richard chimed, as he walked over to the host. “I know Jamie had a table, but I would like to make a new arrangement. A table a little more secluded.”

The host nodded and gestured for one of the servers to come over. He whispered into his ear for a few moments, and then nodded to him, and walked off.

“If you will follow him, he will show you to your seat.”

Richard smiled and motioned you to go before him, as you walked in front of him, his hand touched you on the small of your back and guided you along. You moved between circular tables, with white table clothes that was adorned with a small vase of flowers, candles, and white plates with gold trimming and sparkling glasses.

Richard secured a private table with a spectacular view overlooking New York Harbor, The Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan skyline. Right by the large ceiling to floor windows in the corner state a smaller table, with a vase of roses, two candles, and a bucket of wine on ice. The server gestured to the table and sated that he would return for more order drinks in a moment. Richard walked over and pulled the chair out for you and pushed it in as you sat down. He sat down across from you unbuttoning his dress coat and pulling the wine from the bucket. You watched him with a smile, as he opened the bottle and took started to pour it in your glass first.

“What should we celebrate?” Richard asks as he hands you your glass, and you pick it up. “To old friends and ...” “To love.” He says tautly, as his eyes lock with yours. “Yes, to love.” You say with a faint smile, and your cheeks flush. “Why without love, we are mere empty shells that move without purpose.” Richard chimes as he picks up his glass and puts it in the air to cling with yours. “Wow, I can’t believe you remembered that!” “How could I? You were so drunk that night...” Richard confessed charmingly. “Drunk and stupid. “

You both laughed. Richard leans forward on the table and gestures with his hands, the excitement of that night.

“There you were, standing on the table, with a large bottle of whiskey…” “Screaming at the top of my lungs about…. something….” “Love…and happiness. How the world wasn’t fair, something or the other.” “You and Mark were standing in front of me, I believe.” “Yes, we were standing there trying to make sure that you didn’t fall off the table, but –“He motioned, holding his arms in the air, a catching gesture. “You were younger than us, and we handed you the bottle, so if something happened to you, we knew that we would have gotten into trouble.” He chuckles. “But I did. Fall I mean.” You laughed, taking another sip of wine. After you removed the glass you licked your lips.

He paused and looked at you as though he wanted to say more, but his eyes were on your lips.

“Right into my arms” he stated softly.

You surely weren’t careful because you did fall. Not only to his arms, but you fell hard for him, and now 20 years later, you realize that you are still falling, and you hit the ground fucking hard. Back then you were a bit younger than him, smitten with him, and yet he always had his attention elsewhere.

Now he was here before sitting with you and looking at you as if he wanted to devour you. You couldn’t complain, you wanted to do the same. Why even bother with this dinner? Why even bother catching up? You could feel the heat coming off of him, and when he looked at you, he was always smiling. He smiled with his lips, eyes, and his very soul, and you could feel the pull.

The waiter walked over and within a few moments you provide your order. As Richard spoke to him, your phone buzzed, and you picked it up and looked at it. A blinking message caught your attention.

_________

JAMIE {Hey, I am soooo sorry I’m late. Are you still here or should I leave and not try to contact you again? I know I messed up. No excuse. Please forgive me.” _________

Your eyes go big as you glance up at Richard who was nodding to the server and discussing the menu items. You look back down and casually touch your left earring and look around to the hostess desk. Standing there stood a stunning man with blonde hair, chiseled face, and thick pink lips. He was tall as Richard and dressed incredibly well. Your heart started to pound as you realized that Richard wasn’t the blind date, but he took you from one. A small smile was on your face, as you then blushed to yourself thinking that only Richard would be so bold as to do something like this. Like when you were kids, and Mark was so mean to you, Richard would be kind. You remembered a time when Mark threw your favorite dress up into a tree, and wouldn’t get it down, so Richard climbed the tree and gave it back to you. He even asked you to put it on so that it would make you feel better. It did.

A part of you was also so flattered that Richard went along with his white lie to have dinner with you. Maybe him being an actor made him more confident, and bold. After all who could say no to him? No one. Especially you. So, before Richard was done with the server, you looked down at your phone, deleted the message and slipped it back into your bag.

Two dinners, one shared cheesecake, and two bottles of red wine later, you and Richard were laughing and reminiscing over the old days. You shared stories of ex’s, bad dates, and career goals. But over time it became more serious. You and Richard started flirting after you revealed that you used to play Naughty Truth or Dare with your friends in college. Bringing up a story of when you made out with this girl in the closet, and you didn’t hate it. College was a time for discovery after all, and you dated that girl for almost 2 years.

“I can’t believe, you did that.” He said, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. His face was a little flushed, and that twinkle in his eye got darker. “You can’t believe it because it was me or that it was a girl?” you jokingly asked. “All of it really, but fuck if that wasn’t a sexy story.” He smiled taking a sip of wine. “You thought it was sexy?” “Very.”

You leaned forward, and unknowing to him, you slipped out of your heels, and touched the bottom of his leg. His eyes locked on your immediately. What would Richard do if you pushed him. Would be break his control that he always had around you. Would he finally show you some kind of emotion other than a friendly one. Your brother wasn’t around, and you were single. He was single, and you both were adults. So you made the decision that would forever change your relationship with this man. You had to know.

“Tell me Mr. Armitage, have you ever played Naughty Truth or Dare?” he questioned him, as you started rubbing your foot against his leg.

Richard looked around the restaurant and then back at you as he leaned forward on the table and put his hand under the table to touch your calf. His fingers trailed up and down the bare skin that he was able to touch at that moment.

“And if I have? Would you dare challenge me?” “Truth or Dare?” You said, keeping your eyes locked on his.

He smiled.

“Truth.” He replied, not breaking your eye contact. “Who is the most inappropriate person you’ve had a sexual fantasy about?” “My friends’ little sister.” He said quickly.

You blushed.

“Truth or Dare?” He asked you. “Dare!” you said with a challenging tone. “Are you sure you want to do that?” He questioned, his thumb still making small circles on your skin.

You shrug playfully and await his dare.

“Suck on my finger and pretend you’re performing oral sex for 30 seconds.” He says under his breath.

You smile and dip your finger into the left-over cream from dessert and put it in your mouth. You look up at him, and lick the tip of your finger, then take it all in your mouth. Sucking, and lapping your tongue around your digit as it if it was a cock. His cock more like it. You slowly pull it from your lips and lick your lips and smile.

He lets out a very hard sigh and adjust himself as he looks around the restaurant. Now one was paying you guys any attention. He shook his head as if to break the spell that your oral performance left him in.

“Your turn.” You reminded. “Dare.” He answered. “Send a suggestive text message to someone in your phone.”

Richard reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. After a few moments of him entering his message, he hits send, and puts the phone down. Your phone buzzed and you picked it up. For a moment you sat there looking at the words, over and over again, before you looked up at him. He was smiling at you.

You put the phone down, and it read ___________

RICHARD { Take your panties off under the table and show them to me. :) } ___________

You adjust yourself in the seat, reaching up under your dress you work your way to the band around your waist. You look around the room, and slowly slip your panties off. After pulling your feet out, one by one. You bring them up and dangle them before him. Richard smiles and nods.

“Good girl.”

You laugh and place the panties in your purse, but before you can ask, Richard says,

“Truth.” “What’s #1 on your sexual bucket list right now?” “Taking you into the loo right now and showing you how good I am with my tongue.” He said, with a smile.

Richard leaned over the table more and whispered so that only you can hear him.

“I know that I’m supposed to be paying attention to the game, but I can’t stop thinking of how beautiful you look in that dress.” His hands slowly moved up to stroke the bare flesh of your knee. It sent a heat traveling up your waist, and it spread through your entire body, and the sensation focused intensely between your legs. It made you stir.

You reached under the table to touch his hand and guided it higher…

“Are you trying to bait me?” He whispered again, his voice hoarse.

Your cheeks flush.

“Maybe?” You teased as you open your legs a little wider. You drew his hand to the hem of your dress, and you slowly slipped it up your thigh a little more.

“(Y/N) You’re killing me.” He said defeatedly whispered. “Good.” You whispered back. You knew what was really driving him up the wall. You weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were down casted, shyly looking at everything else but him, and Richard was trying to get you to look at him.

He leaned over again and whispered.

“Do you have any idea how hard you are making this?” he pleaded, as he moved his hand up your thigh a bit more.

You knew exactly how hard you were making it for him. So, you leaned over, so that you were snuggling his face, and kissed his cheek gently. Your left hand came up to stroke his chin and you turned his head and whispered in his ear.

“Do you have any idea how freeing it is when you’re not wearing panties?” you prompted gently and the look on his face was priceless. The muscle in his jaw was jumping, and he bit down on his bottom lip hard, and released it slowly.

“Meet me in the loo. Now.” He said, swiftly getting up from his seat, and making his way to the bathroom in the corner. He stopped at the door and looked back at you.

“The restroom? Seriously?!” you thought and hesitated, it was a rather exciting idea and you wanted him. Badly.

You got up and walked over to the bathroom where he was. You were very nervous, and your heart was beating super-fast. You saw Richard standing by the men’s room and he nodded for you to come over, and you both quickly entered one of the stalls in the restroom and he locked the door.

He then turned around and stared at you hungrily. He cups your face in his hands and your eyes connect with his, which grow closer as he moves to kiss you. The hair on the back of your neck raised when his lips finds yours. You smile into the kiss. His tongue traces a line on your lower lips, sending shivers down your spine. You place a hand on his chest to steady yourself. He pulls back and lets his thumb pull at your bottom lip that was now swollen from his kiss.

“(Y/N)” “Richard….” You say back.

In the next moment, he thrusts you up against the wall, the cold of the stone contrasts sharply with the heat of his body. He uses one hand to brace himself against the wall while the other traces a line from your jawbone to your neck, to your chest. He kisses you hungrily. He breaks away, trailing kisses along the underside of your jaw, your neck, the juncture between your collarbones. You make a small noise at the back of your throat, and you feel him smile along your skin. His bread tickles your flesh where it touches you, and the Richards lips … they start to move lover, towards the valley between your breasts. He unhooked your bra and they fumble out. Plump and swollen. His hands started exploring your body while you leaned back into the wall, fully submissive to him. His breath fans out along your skin, and you arch into him. He’s never seen you naked before—and you’ve never seen him, for that matter. The realization is shocking, considering what you are about to do. In a bathroom no less.

His hand cups your breast, his thumb moving in circles around your nipple until it hardens. He bends down to it, his lips replacing his fingers. His tongue moves over it, and you arch into him.

Jesus, he was going to make you come before you’re even fully undressed. His mouth trails down your stomach, his hands sliding down either side of you. Richard glanced at you through his lashes when he hit the hem of your dress. Even this is almost too much. Your heart and your body couldn’t take so many good sensations all at once. You felt like you were going to come apart, and when you finally put yourself back together again, you won’t be the same person you once were. You’ve imagined this so many times, yet your mind has never done him justice. He lowered himself before you, positioning himself and put one of your legs over his shoulder. He planted hot kisses up your leg, to your inner thigh. You felt him at your entrance and buckled slightly as his lips came in contact with the paradise between your legs. He kissed your lips, softly, and so gently.

“Fair warning, I’m not stopping until you come.” He said, and then he leaned in. At the first touch of his mouth, you sucked in some air. It’s going to be too much.

He licked around your inner lips, throwing in a nip here and there, teasing you. Soon you were making sounds you never thought you could make. You never knew that you would even be in this position. Not with him. You wanted it to be with him. It was always him. It will always be him. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you twist one in your hair and the other gripping the railing behind you. You tossed her head back, and let out another moan, just as his tongue licked your core again.

He didn’t even make it to your clit yet and you were already dying. Aching for more of him.

“Fucking take me already”, you thought to yourself.

He toyed with you, and you didn’t fucking care because Richard Armitage was between your legs and he wasn’t going to stop until you screamed his name as you came. But eventually he stopped toying with you, and suddenly, he meant business. His tongue moved over your clit, again, and again. Your body jerked, and one of your hands shot from your head to his head. Fisting in his hair. Too much. Far too much. Your hips moved of their own, gyrating on his lips, on his tongue. You couldn’t take this.

You tried to pull back, tried to push him backwards, and get away from his mouth, panting.

“Ah, ah, little Duckling,” he said, pulling you back, “you’re not going anywhere. Not until I’m finished with you.” Richard gripped you tighter as his mouth went back to business.

“I want you” You panted, and he whispered those magical words back to you. You both were so into each other that you were totally unaware of your surroundings.

Then, suddenly you heard some noise in the stall next to yours, it sounded like somebody was using the bathroom, and then flushed. You both came back to reality. Richard stopped what he was doing, and looked up at you licking his lips.

“Someone is in the next stall,” you said to him enunciating the words without making any sound. You both panicked and stood still. You didn’t want to make any noise and arouse suspicion.

“What do we do?” you said, again enunciation the words without making a sound.

Richard smiled, and he put his index finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. You shook your head, but it was too late. His mouth was on you again, he didn’t release you and you bucked against his lips.

You let out a strangled sob. “Richard, please.” There’s way too much sensation down there, and it was building. Building, building, building.

“Come for me.” He said, sucking only on your clit. His hand wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer to him. He filled his mouth with you.

“Richard!” Your body was just a bundle of nerves, all of them taut. You couldn’t get away, and you couldn’t take much more. You were right on the edge, and with each stroke of his tongue …

“Come.” He demanded, and you began to fall.

You stared blankly at the beautiful ceiling, your vision went unfocused, your orgasm exploded through you, lasting longer and burning brighter than anything that you had ever felt before. As you came down, Richard kissed your inner thighs, his touch still proprietary. Your leg slipped off of his shoulder, and he caught it, he put your leg down, closed them gently and pulled your dress down. He stood up and gathered you into his arms again. Kissing you with all of your wetness and taste on his lips.

“You are fucking unbelievable.” He said, as he kissed you again, gentler this time, cupping the sides of your face, his hands tangled in your hair.

After catching your breath, you quietly put back your bra and adjusted your dress. Then you looked at Richard and he started giggling. Now, you too felt like laughing but told him not to laugh. You both were controlling your laughter and waiting for the other person to leave the restroom. The moment you heard the person leave, the both of you burst out laughing. You quickly left the restroom and ran out into the main hall. While everyone in the was seriously still eating, minus the few people near the bathroom, who looked up at you both you two were still laughing.

He gently spins you around in his arms until you’re facing him. One of his hands cups the back of your neck, the other still resting on your waist. You met Richard’s eyes, as he draws you close to his face, and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Fancy going back to my place Duckling?”

PART 2 END PART 3 - Coming Soon 1/19/2019

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hellomissmabel · 7 years

Text

Vino o Gelato part 3

MASTERLIST

AO3 account

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: The reader grew up believing someone else was her father. Her real father had been sent away by his family. Pepper being a bitch.

Word count: 2.173

Summary: Y/N travels to Italy in search of her biological father. As she’s looking for a place to stay, she walks into the small artisanal gelateria where Steve works. He helps her get in touch with her father and introduces her to his friends. But is Y/N really ready to meet her father? Or is there another reason why she should stay in Italy?

A/N: Written for @yourtropegirl

Series masterlist can be found here

Steve was waiting for you outside May’s B&B, a picnic basket in hand and a royal smile tugging at his lips. Yesterday you had asked Steve if he would be interested in showing you around, since he is the town’s best tour guide, and of course the blond said yes. It’s not a secret Steve harbours a crush for the new American girl in town, and Bucky’s been pestering him with it for ages.

He’d been meaning to ask you out on an informal date, but with all the fuzz surrounding your father, he felt bad taking up some of your time with his lovesick soulmate nonsense, time that you could better spend getting acquainted with your father. But that didn’t make his feelings for you less true, and Steve’s has to admit he’s smitten.

After wandering about aimlessly for what felt like forever, you started the climb uphill to where the olive trees gave way to a most magnificent view over the city and the outstretched vineyards of your father. As Steve laid out a blanket for the two of you to sit on, you popped open the bottle of wine Bucky gifted you with after bidding you goodbye. It’s your father’s most coveted wine, critically acclaimed by many connoisseurs, and upon your first taste you instantly understood why.

“This really is a damn good wine,” Steve gasped as he took another sip from his glass, the white liquid trickling down his taste buds with delicious intent.

“I’m usually more of a red wine kinda girl, but this is something else entirely,” you add to Steve’s wonder, unfolding some napkins and passing some to Steve. There’s bread, salami, ham, cheese, olive oil, sundried tomatoes, red and green homemade pesto,… Steve filled the picnic basket to the brim with all these mouth-watering ingredients that you have no idea where to start first.

“For dessert, I asked Wanda to make us some key lime pie,” Steve beams at you, pouring some more wine into your glass, grossing his legs in the green grass as you two bathe in the shadows of the nearby trees, swaying gently in the summer breeze.

“Key lime pie? That’s not very Italian,” you joke whilst nipping on some bread and buttering it up with some moist goat cheese.

Steve shakes his head and laughs heartily, his body turning more towards you as he talks animatedly about how it’s his mother’s recipe and he passed it on to Wanda since she’s the better baker of the two. You listen silently at him praising her cooking skills while you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. You’d hoped that this little excursion would help you figure out your attraction towards the blond, hoping he might see this as some kind of date.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling too much.” The blond grabs a sundried tomato and pops it into his mouth, drawing a chuckle from your lips. You poke his ribs and fish out your phone to take a picture of your picnic spot, present company included. Then you share some more food before getting up and walking over to the edge of the hill, photographing the setting sun casting a beautiful warm glow over the landscape.

“You’re being very quiet, Y/N…,” he mumbles, putting some pesto and ham on a piece of bread after you’ve returned to his side. “I thought your meeting with Tony went well? Unless there’s something else bothering you…”

You force yourself to grant him a half-smile but it doesn’t convince Steve at all. So you give up on putting up a brave face, instead pouring your heart out and getting it all off your chest. “What if I’m just like wine to him?,” you ask the blond softly, who knits his eyebrows in confusion, not used to seeing you so torn up.

“What if I’m a grape he unintentionally picked years ago and left with my mother to bottle up the juices. What if now he’s just thirsty and grows tired of me once he’s gotten enough to satiate his thirst? What if he throws my bottle away?”

“You’re forgetting that wine gets better with age.” Steve notices your hands are shaking and takes your glass of wine from your hand and puts it down somewhere securely. Then he folds your hands with his, intertwining your fingers.

“So you also have to keep in mind that to Tony, you might be that one precious bottle of wine he’s been keeping for a special occasion. Maybe Tony has changed. Maybe he now realises you were, and still are, the best harvest of his life.”

You try to protest but Steve continues, squeezing your fingers. “You also have to bear in mind that wine can be both spicy and sweet, rich in flavour and crisp, earthy and elegant, flamboyant and refined,…”

“Steve,…” With a sigh, you eye him sadly. “I’m just afraid that, just like with my mother, he’s rushing into this without thinking twice about what this means for both our lives.”

Steve is facing you now, both of you sitting cross-legged, surrounded by little sparkling fireflies emerging from their hiding place.

“Y/N, listen to me. Even if you feel like things are going too fast for you, you have to remember that everything happens for a reason. And to me, you are all those things. You are kind-hearted, loving, caring, warm, determined,… You are an amazing woman and Tony knows this. Maybe he hasn’t changed, but that’s a risk you’ll have to take if you wanna get to know him. And I’ll be here for you if you need me, if you need someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, a friend…”

“But what if I’m just like my mother, what if I’m ice cream and Tony is wine? It’s an impossible combination.”

“Y/N, you are both ice cream and wine. You are just as much your mother’s daughter as you are your father’s daughter. Wine can be sweet, just like ice cream. Ice cream can be crisp, just like wine. You are the best of both world, doll.”

“Why are you so sweet, Steve?” He blushes shyly, cheeks tinted red as his baby blues lock eyes with you. “It’s just – you’re so nice to me. You’ve been so nice to me ever since we first met.”

The blond grins to himself as he returns his gaze to your hands, still holding onto each other. “Can I ask you a question, too?” You nod softly, following his gaze. “Are you – are you seeing anyone? I mean – back in the States?”

“Not really, no… There was this lawyer in Hell’s Kitchen that I went out with a couple times.” You shrug as you remember how disappointed your mother was when she found out he started dating his assistant instead. You on the other hand were relieved you didn’t have to uphold to your mother’s high expectations anymore. “What about you?”

“Nah, no Italian girlfriends for me anymore. When I first moved in at May’s, Wanda admitted to having a crush on me. I gave it a try because Bucky told me to. Wanda’s a really sweet girl and I really like her, but more as a friend than a lover.”

“So you and Wanda aren’t…?,” you ask the blond as it slowly dawns on you.

“Wait, did you think me and Wanda…?” Steve’s eyes grow big and he clasps your hands a little tighter, shooting you a shy smile. “Oh Y/N,” he sighs warmly, leaning in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “There’s only one girl I’m interested in and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

Last night, you settled some things between the two of you and decided to give your relationship with Steve a shot. If you’d known that lunch with Tony was going to be this intense, you would’ve wanted Steve to come with you as back-up. On first inspection, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You’re sitting next to your father, in another modest sundress Steve helped you pick out with a little help from Wanda, across from Pepper and Peter.

Pepper is dressed in a loose-fitting maxi-dress with a deep V-neck and an exotic flower pattern, idly picking at the shrimps in the seafood and pasta dish you and Tony prepared earlier. Peter however almost inhales his spaghetti and even asks for a second plate. Thrilled to have a big sister now, he hangs on your every word as you talk about your life in New York.

“So when is your flight back?,” Pepper inquires sweetly as she puts down her cutlery next to her plate and resumes drinking of her third glass of red wine. Tony takes hold of the bottle and pours the remainder of the Bordeaux in his own glass, to which he receives a dirty look from his wife.

“I haven’t actually booked a flight back yet,” you respond honestly, finishing up on your pasta and smiling over to your father. “I came her with the intention of getting to know my father and I didn’t want to put a time stamp on that.”

“I see,” Pepper replies with a sour smirk. “And is it possible that perhaps this has something to do with your mother’s dire financial situation?” She gets up, heels clicking with every confident stride. “My husband is very wealthy and I’m sure that hasn’t escaped your attention.”

She throws a stack of papers in front of you, information about your mother, your step-father Bruce and yourself. Pepper’s done a thorough background check on you, and with a smug expression she sits back down. “You have a student loan debt yet to settle, and a loan on your house and the travel agency as well. You’re drowning. So let me ask you again, how much is it you want?”

“Please, Pepper,” Tony snaps at his wife, enraged by her bold presumptions. “You are wrong. Y/N came here with good intentions. She is really my daughter, I mean, look at her! She’s got her mother’s eyes but her father’s spunk.”

“And because she is your daughter, you trust her blindly,” the strawberry blond woman throws at your father. “Peter,” she turns to Tony’s son with a forced, fake tenderness lacing her spiteful voice. “Please go play with Bucky or something.”

Peter looks like he’s caught in the crossfire and quickly obeys his step-mother’s words. With an apologetic shrug he takes one last look in your direction before hurdling out of the dining hall and onwards to the vineyard where he’ll surely find Bucky.

“Now let’s talk business, shall we?,” she begins again as she crosses her hands on the table. “How much do you want to go away and stay away? I bet you didn’t even tell him you’re staying over at May’s.”

Tony’s fist angrily slams onto the table, the empty bottle of wine collapsing onto the floor and shattering into a million tiny little fragments. You’re genuinely frightened by his sudden outburst but as soon as you seen the gloating expression On Pepper’s face, you realise she’s intentionally pushing his buttons. She’s trying to provoke some kind of reaction from you, be it genuine or not, wanting to portray you as nothing more but another fraud.

“Pepper, please stop this nonsense,” he reasons ardently with his wife.

“It’s bad enough I have to put up with that little brat of a son, Peter. I can’t deal with another bastard child of yours, Tony!” She turns to you with a deadly glare. “Do you know how long he searched for you? How many times a young girl made him believe she was his daughter, only to strip him from his money afterwards?”

Looking guiltily at your dinner plate, you swallow thickly. “I didn’t know that, Pepper, and I’m sorry that happened to you, the both of you. But like I said, I just want to get to know my father. My mother doesn’t even know I’m here. I never told her I was coming here. You can check that, too, if you want.”

Pepper huffs haughtily. “I want nothing to do with you, Y/N.”

“Then get the hell out of my house,” Tony growls lowly at her, “Y/N isn’t going anywhere.”

“No, it’s okay, Tony,” you cut him off gently, placing your hand on his as you place your napkin on the table and get up from your seat with the intention to leave. “Obviously you and your wife have some things to work through. I’ll be at May’s, booking a flight back to New York.”

“No, Y/N, please,” Tony begs you with in a heartbroken tenor, attempting to catch your hand as you flee the scene, your fingertips barely touching. “I can’t lose you again.”

Granting yourself one final glance at your father, the scars of time now more evident than ever as the corners of his lips curl downwards, you bid him goodbye and run out of the house, tears streaming down your face.

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplansteverogers @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean65 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @beyondbarnes @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos @thegreentgirl @nedthegay

Series tag list: @incoherent-smiles @phiauniverse @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mo320 @suz-123 @wildestdreamsrps @lexicon411 @katemcgraw @youpocketwitch @3dsaunt @void-imaginations @mylittlefandomfanfictions @anotherotter @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @redroomproperty @mirachowder

Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you!

#vino o gelato #vino o gelato part 3 #altcoffeeshopau #ice cream shop au #steve x reader #steve rogers #tony stark #tony x reader #modern!au

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wwesmutdonedirtcheap · 7 years

Text

Famished

Part Fifteen in my Hold On Me Series. You can read the rest on my Master List

Summary: Celebrating Pete’s title win and putting more than yourselves, to bed.

Tag Squad: You guys know the drill by now I think. lol I’m trying SO hard to figure out why my Tag List isn’t working.

I stood outside the men’s locker room a few minutes later, waiting on Pete to change out.

The roar of the crowd as Finn made his entrance was deafening.

“He did good.”

I jolted my head around to see Sami walking down the hallway toward me.

“Pete did good,” he repeated as he reached me “He’s really got something special in that ring.”

I had hardly ever spoken more than two words to Sami but admiration from Zayn was pretty high praise.

“Yeah, he,” I tucked my hair behind my ear shyly “He’s really good at what he does.”

“Tell him not to forget, I’m coming for that title,” Sami smirked before walking passed me and out of sight.

Just then, the door jolted open and I jumped as Pete pushed his way through.

“You all right, love?” he chuckled, his hand immediately going to my arm.

“Yeah,” I nodded “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he slowly backed me toward the wall so I couldn’t skip out on the truth.

His hand forced my chin up, our eyes locking.

“Yeah, I just…I don’t want to go home Tuesday,” I laughed nervously, feeling like a lovesick teenager.

He nodded. His jaw clenched tightly and he exhaled slowly.

“We have ta make the most of tha time we have, then,” his voice grew deep “Agreed?”

I nodded and he pressed his lips roughly against my forehead, letting out a discontented breath. He felt it too. The sickening feeling in the pit of our stomachs that even though we still had over twenty four hours together, it would never be enough.

“How ‘bout we ditch the rest of tha show, hm?” he wrapped his strong arm around my bare shoulders, guiding me down the hall.

“And do what?” I smirked over at him.

“How ‘bout I take ya for that meal I owe ya?”

“Oh, you mean a date?” I giggled, as he adjusted the belt that was thrown proudly over his other shoulder.

He nodded, opening the arena door and following me out into the parking lot.

“Thank you,” I smiled up at the waiter as he refilled my glass of water.

“Should I get wine or somethin’?” Pete’s brow furrowed, as he flipped through the wine list he found on the table.

“No,” I laughed “Water is fine.”

“It’s our first propa’ dinna’ date,” he looked up at me “Isn’t there somethin’ I should…”

“And on our dinner date, water is fine,” I smiled softly at him.

He nodded, laying the menu to the side and shifting nervously in his seat.

He had let me pick out the restaurant. It was nice, but nothing upscale. Still, he seemed incredibly uncomfortable. He was used to dives and bars and pubs back home. Nothing as traditionally ‘date worthy’ as the restaurant.

“If you want to go somewhere else, it’s fine,” I assured him.

He shook his head and started drinking his water down like he had been in the desert for days.

“Stop being so nervous,” I whispered “This is just us, right? You and me.”

“It’s all different now,” he shook his head “I gotta be betta. I gotta do betta by ya this time.”

“Are you afraid I’m going to leave you?” I scrunched up my nose “Pete….”

“I’m tired of bein’ ya fuck up,” he sighed, running a hand through his ever growing hair.

“What I want,” I reached across the table and danced my fingers across his hand “Is for you to be the Pete I fell in love with. I don’t need you to be something you’re not…What happened…It’s over now. We have to let it go…I’ve finally let it go.”

“Have ya?” he met my eyes, his teeth chewing furiously on his bottom lip “Cause I think about it every day….The way I hurt ya…Tha look on ya face…How I had everythin’ I eva wanted….”

I rested my hand over his and sighed.

“That I eva needed…” he continued to stare into me “…Tha only one in my life that I eva gave a flyin’ fuck about…And I couldn’t even hold on ta ya….I couldn’t tell you how much you meant ta me….Jesus, I almost lost you the first time cause I couldn’t get tha words outta my mouth.”

“I’m here,” I shook my head “I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“There’s nothin’ for me ta forgive ya for,” he shrugged.

“Yes there is,” I nodded “I’ve had a lot of time to think too and as much as it hurt, seeing you like that….I treated you bad, too….Pete, I should never have been so jealous in the first place. We would have never got in that fight and…”

“We got in tha fight cause I can’t stand anotha man near ya,” he ran his free hand over his face “And I gotta learn ta keep ma bloody mouth shut….When ya have somethin’ ya neva had before, somethin’ that’s yours, really yours…Ya just wanna protect it.”

“You’ve been protecting me from the beginning,” I laughed softly.

“Yeah,” he grinned, running his hand under his chin “I guess I always knew I wanted ya….That you were meant ta be mine.”

“Me too,” I whispered hoarsely, linking my fingers through his.

“Tha otha night,” he cleared his throat “I neva dreamed you would let me touch ya. That we’d be sittin’ ‘ere right now. I thought ya didn’t want ta see me cause you changed ya mind.”

“Well,” I sighed “I guess I decided I could be unhappy and bitter or I could forgive you and try again…I’m glad I forgave you…I’m glad you came to see me when I didn’t have the guts to tell you to your face.”

I smiled, my mind drifting to our make up sex. He was clearly thinking about it too by the look in his eyes.

“I couldn’t leave without seein’ you,” his face grew incredibly serious “I could have neva left without findin’ out how you felt.”

“And now you know,” I leaned forward against the table “You know that I never stopped loving you.”

“So are ya sayin’, the vice president might let me take her to ma room tonight?” he growled, his hand gripping mine tight.

“I think if you ask nicely, the vice president might do more than that,” I dropped my eyes to the table, my curls falling in them.

I looked back up to gauge his response. He was clearly getting turned on already.

“Nicely?” he smirked.

“Mhm,” I bit on my lip “Think you could do that? For me?”

“Be careful what ya say, love,” his eyes were blazing now “Last time was gentle…This time…”

He flipped my hand over, his fingers digging ferociously into my palm.

“Is that a promise, champ?” I raised an excited eyebrow at him.

He dug them deeper and I couldn’t help the little moan that came out.

“Are you hungry?” I shifted in my seat, crossing my legs to try to block out the longing between them.

“For this fancy shit? Not one bit,” he replied, finishing his water.

“How about dinner tomorrow night?” I reached for my purse.

“Or breakfast,” he stood and waited on me to join him “In tha mornin’, when I got ya all wrapped up in our bed…Exhausted…Famished….”

“Is that so?” I pushed my body closer to his own.

“I guarantee it, love” he groaned “Cause I’ve missed you too much…And I know how ta make sure I don’t lose this eva again.”

I smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the exit.

We walked down the hall toward Pete’s room, with his hand riding up and down the curve of my ass in my tight jumper.

“Pete,” I groaned at him for teasing me.

“What’s wrong, love?” he batted his tongue against my ear “Can’t wait anotha moment?”

Feeling brave, and incredibly deprived, I turned on him and pushed him against the wall. He grunted, as my hand immediately gripped his already hard dick as it strained against his pants. Pete shifted his body weight around, as if he were under my complete control.

“What are ya gonna do, huh?” he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Hm,” I laughed, squeezing him in my hand.

His whole body jolted and he closed his eyes.

“I need you, now,” I whispered against his ear.

“Don’t ya eva stop needin’ me,” he groaned, as my lips trailed down his neck.

“I won’t,” I looked up at him, giving him my sweetest smile teasingly.

I released him and started walking down the hall again. I didn’t get far before he grabbed my arm and swung me around. I crashed against his chest and then my back slammed into the wall.

“Do you know what else I want?” he growled, his hands pushing the low cut of my jumper down off my shoulders slowly "What I want is ta give ya tha best fuckin’ ya eva had in ya life.“

“I thought you already had. Many…Many times,” I whispered, my hand sliding down his face and hooking my thumb along the center of his bottom lip.

“Oh no, ya have no idea what we’re capable of togetha,” his hand wrapped around my wrist and he pressed his lips to my palm.

“Show me,” I gasped, as he sucked my fingers into his mouth and slowly pulled them out.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing seductively as he finally pulled me by the hand a few more doors down and let us into his room.

“You knew all along, didn’t ya?” he started to loosen the stuffy tie he had been wearing.

“Knew what?”

“That I was gonna win that title,” he tossed the garment to the floor.

He began rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, concentrating so hard his hair fell into his eyes.

“I might have,” I admitted guiltily “But I was sworn to secrecy. Vice president rules.”

“Well then,” he finished with his sleeves and tossed his hair out of his eyes absently “Come ‘ere.”

He sat down on the bed and patted his lap.

“What?” I laughed in confusion.

“Tha way I see it. Ya need ta be punished,” he looked up at me.

I walked slowly toward him and pushed the jumper even further down my shoulders, then ran my hands along my body.

I reached him and he stared up at me hungrily. The stare I had missed; the feelings coursing through me I had missed for so long.

“Zipper is right here,” I turned my back to him and stood still as his strong fingers slid it down.

His open mouth nibbled at the dip in my lower back and I felt his teeth sink into me. I hissed between my lips and he bit even harder.

Pete finally moved on, finishing with the zipper and pushing it off my back completely.

Once I stepped out of it, I turned to face him. I had made sure to wear some extra sexy underwear for the night. Black completely see through lace bra and thong.

Pete took note, drinking it all in with his eyes. His hand slid down my side and to the curve of my hip, tugging softly on the strap to my underwear.

“It’s amazin’,” he marveled “How I rememba’ every inch of ya body.”

“Do you?” I swayed in front of him “I could say the same.”

“Bend ova,” he spoke and patted his lap “Right 'ere.”

I made sure that my descent to his lap was slow and that my whole body grazed across him. Once I was in place, I brushed my hair over one shoulder.

“Like that?” I whispered.

His hand flew down on my ass loudly and I yelped from surprise.

“Just like that,” he smiled, taking my face between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Harder,” I looked up into his eyes.

He quickly drew my mouth to his. Pete’s tongue plunged against mine for just a few seconds before he pulled away and spanked me again.

I moaned as I stared over my shoulder at him and he looked at me with every smack he made.

“I didn’t know you would be so mad,” I giggled.

He reached for me again and that time I swung up and straddled him. He took my face in between his fingers again and I jerked my head, drawing his thumb into my mouth. I bit down on it, hard, and he groaned in agony. His whole body was electric next to mine.

I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist and I started to slowly rub my body against him.

“I’m not mad enough ta let ma baby go without,” he growled from deep in his chest.

He ran that same bitten thumb down his tongue and then slid his hand between us. His thumb sliding inside the thin fabric of my panties and meeting my clit.

I drew my mouth to the side of his neck, sucking my own mark on his skin just below his ear. I traced up to flick at the gauge there with my tongue.

Pete’s pace with his thumb quickened and I gasped, when I felt him slide his fingers inside me. He chuckled when I bit down sharply on his gauged earlobe.

“You like that, don’t you?” I panted against it when I drew my mouth off him.

He started to move his fingers faster and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I ground my body down on top of his hand, over and over.

My breathing was becoming labored as I felt myself climbing for the first time.

“If I can’t make ya cum, what kinda man would I be for ya?” he grinned, as he watched my face contort.

“Pete,” I whined, lacing my fingers through his hair and tugging on it.

“Fuck,” he shook his head as he watched me, his arm jerking vigorously between us.

“Don’t,” I whimpered, jerking his head up by his hair.

“I’m not stoppin’,” he growled before his mouth connected with the base of my throat.

I rode my orgasm out as he bit and sucked all over my skin. It only made everything more intense, knowing I would have those familiar marks again.

“I want ya naked,” I heard him order me.

I raised my eyes to his and he slowly slid me off his lap.

I turned around, in an attempt to do some sort of sexy strip tease but his hand jerked me back.

“I wanna see ya, that teasin’ is ova.”

He looked so determined. So fucking sexy that I couldn’t argue. Didn’t want to.

I slid each strap of my bra down slowly, then reached around to unhook it.

He sucked his own lip as he watched it fall off my body.

I toyed with the straps to my thong playfully before dropping it to my feet.

I reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet. I unlooped each button to his shirt carefully. His chest practically heaving under my hands. His fingers slid up into my hair and pulled on it gently, moving it from my face.

When I finished, he slid it off. My finger immediately went to “my” scar. The permanent mark I had left on him all those months ago.

“It’s still there,” his hand covered mine.

“And I’m the only one who touches it,” I smirked before digging my nail into it.

He grimaced but then he picked me up. A growl escaped his throat before his lips savagely took mine. He held me upright while we kissed, my hands gripping his face.

Finally, I felt him drop me onto the bed.

Sitting up on my elbows, I watched him unbutton his pants and discard everything to the floor.

I crooked my finger at him and he shook his head. Instead, he crooked his finger at me and I followed. Crawling across the bed made me level with his dick and when I reached him, he was ready.

“Open for me, huh?” he murmured, his damn hair hanging low in his eyes again.

I opened my lips and he guided himself into my mouth. He groaned as loud as I did when he hit the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” he spat, his hips starting to thrust against me.

His face. His beautiful fucking face. I stared up at him the entire time and watched it change. Each tingle of pleasure, each flicker of some sort of emotion, everything was captivating to me.

“Shit,” he finally pulled out, gasping for air “Sit up.”

I jumped up to my knees and his thumbs dug into my face as he kissed me. I could feel his heart flying in his chest.

“I need to fuck ya, right now,” he ran his tongue along the side of my neck and gripped my throat at it’s base.

“Fucking finally,” I moaned, as he pushed me back on the bed so hard I bounced on the mattress.

He crawled up, his eyes consuming, and rolled me on top of him. He feverishly gripped my hips and eased me down on him. The feeling of him actually hurt.

We had made love three weeks ago but he was so turned on right now, that it literally hurt.

“Pete,” I whimpered, as the feeling started to subside.

“Look at me,” he raised his voice a little “I hafta’ see ya face.”

I locked eyes with him and as I rode him the look of sheer shock and awe was evident. He was truly still surprised that he had me. Maybe that was why he was controlling everything? I didn’t care. Pete was almost always the one in control anyway. If I could keep this look on his face forever…I’d be doing my job.

He dug his fingers harder into my hips and I squealed from excitement.

When a giggle of happiness escaped my lips a minute later, a smile curved on his face briefly.

I leaned forward, my hands resting on his chest and I began winding on top of him. He tilted his head back and continued to pant for air.

“Pete,” I gasped, sensations starting to hit me.

He started bouncing me on top of him, as hard as he could. Which, was very, very hard.

“Shit,” I squealed from the sudden change.

His hips came off the bed, pounding up into me. There was literal sweat rolling down his temples.

I squeezed my eyes shut as one of the most intense orgasms of my life started to encompass me.

“Fuck, just like that,” he growled, pounding even harder.

His mouth came up to bite into the flesh of my arm just as I felt him release and the last of my orgasm came to a still.

“That was just round one, right?” I giggled, as he sat up to wrap his arms around me on his lap.

“We got a lotta time to catch up for,” he murmured against my chest “I told you, you’ll be famished by morning.”

I shifted in bed the next morning and jolted awake, when I didn’t feel Pete next to me.

“You all right, love?”

When I sat up, I saw him. He was standing at the end of the bed with a breakfast cart.

“Sorry to wake ya but I did promise you breakfast,” he pushed it closer to me.

I pulled him down on the bed beside me and wrapped my arms around him as tight as I could.

“What’s wrong?” he shook his head, petting my hair.

“Nothing,” I sighed, burrowing closer into the side of his neck “I just thought you were gone.”

“Shh,” he pulled back to look in my eyes “We’re gonna do it right this time, huh?”

I smiled and he kissed my forehead before standing back to his feet.

“You are famished, are you not?” he smirked at me, reaching for the first plate on the tray.

I nodded drawing my knees to my chest, as I sat naked under the covers.

I would have to leave in less than twelve hours. How was I going to be able to do it?

#pete dunne imagine #pete dunne x reader #pete dunne smut #wwe imagine #wwe smut fan fiction #pete dunne fan fiction

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