#I moved the tag accidentally - > Also they are all from me deciding to like a sketch I didn't line in the end | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heylorrain · 5 months ago

Text

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Words: 8,080 Tags: Ominis x F!Reader x Sebastian - Explicit - Characters are aged up

Thanks to my smut sensei @butternutt613, without you, this entire o.s wouldn't have been possible!

💓 Available on Ao3 with the full image 💓

Studying charms had become your downfall. Despite a week of studying, the information just wouldn't stick. Sebastian promised to help after Quidditch practice like the good boyfriend he was, but you knew he would take his time, so you decided to wait for him at his dorm. When you entered, Ominis was there unexpectedly, catching you both off guard.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry Ominis I-”

“No! No I should’ve…locked the door?” Ominis choked out with an awkward giggle.

Every interaction with Ominis was fraught with tension and unspoken business. From the accidental brush of hands while walking to class, to his head resting on your shoulder in History of Magic, each moment only fueled the growing heat between you. But it all came down during the Amortentia lesson in Potion’s class, when Sebastian discovered that Ominis had smelled your scent in his potion. In a fit of jealousy, Sebastian became overprotective, and Ominis remained silent about his true feelings for you. The tension between all three of you was palpable now that everything was out in the open.

“I should probably go” Your stomach twisted into a tight, throbbing knot as your eyes raked over Ominis stretched out on his bed.

His pants hung low on his hips, teasing just a hint of that V-line that made your mouth water. He was a masterpiece, and the way he laid there—languid, inviting, and oblivious to the storm he was stirring in your mind—was maddening.

“No!” - He lost his composure for a second there -“ I mean you don’t have to… you can, stay.” He said in a low voice. “I- I don’t think that’s a good idea”

You couldn’t deny the fire raging inside you for him—the way his pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, the way his gaze somehow looked through you as if he could see every filthy thought you were trying to hide. He was a paradox—gentle yet commanding, innocent yet so sinful. But Sebastian’s name flashed in your mind like a warning sign. You couldn't deny the intense feelings you had for Ominis, but you also couldn't betray Sebastian by acting on them…could you?

“Why?” Ominis asked, tilting his head. “Why isn’t it a good idea?”

His hand twitched on the bedspread as he sat on the edge of it, fingers curling into the fabric like he was holding himself back from reaching out to you. You wanted those hands on you—needed them. You imagined them sliding up your thighs, gripping your hips, pulling you down onto his lap until you were grinding against his coc-

STOP IT! Focus. Answer him.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaking as you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“Be-Because of Sebastian. Because...” Your words trailed off as Ominis stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and hypnotic. "It's nothing," You added quickly, avoiding his gaze at all costs now. He was blind, blind but not fucking stupid.

“Tell me, I know you, I can tell something is bothering you.” He towered over you, his fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. You could see it, feel it—the way he was holding himself back. “If you’re not going to, then, I’m afraid I have a confession to make”.

He leaned closer and whispered in your ear. Every nerve on your body froze in place, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You held your breath, unable to move or speak as he revealed his darkest desires and secrets.The potion class had triggered something within you both, something that had been buried deep beneath the surface until that moment.

His minty breath washed over your face like a drug, making your lips twitch and your lungs ache for air. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until your chest heaved, drawing in the intoxicating scent of him.

When he finished his confession, your eyes finally locked with his, burning with shock and realization that you both were now on the same page.

His lips were so close, you could almost taste them, and it took every shred of your willpower not to lunge forward. With clumsy fingers, you closed the door shut and frantically turned the lock, sealing you both in the dorm.

“Are you even aware of what you just admitted, Gaunt?”. You knew there was no turning back now. Not ever.

“I am. But I’m afraid I can’t help it. It’s like a spell, a curse, that I can’t break.”

“A curse ?” You repeated.

Fine, if he thought you as a curse, a curse you were going to be.

Your body was acting on its own now. He should’ve known the consequences of his actions, should’ve known that his words would unravel you.

“Is it a curse to love me then?”

He tried to slink away, his back hitting the wall like a cornered animal, but you weren’t having it. Not now, not when the air between you crackled like electricity.

Fuck. This. Shit.

You closed the gap, your hands sliding down his sides. Your fingers dug into the soft curve of his ass, molding into the back pockets of his pants.

He leaned his head back against the wall, feeling you, his breathing becoming a bit more ragged. He could feel the warmth of your hands in his pockets, and the proximity between you two made his heart race. He closed his eyes, and spoke between breaths.

“It’s no curse loving you,” he whispered, his voice thick with lust. “But it’s a fucking curse knowing I could never have you.”

“But here we are,” you purred “inches apart, and still you resist me. Are you afraid of being cursed?”

His body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. His hands had been gripping the wall behind him. His chest fell up and down more rapidly with the ragged rhythm of a man teetering on the edge of self-control. Your hands traveled all the way up until they reached the hem of his collar, and the way he groaned—low, guttural, desperate—said it all.

“I-I’m not afraid of being cursed. I’m afraid of …myself, of what I might do if you keep doing this to me” He rasped.

His eyes, now dark and hungry, locked onto yours, they were wild, "like a predator stalking it's prey"- fuck no. You weren’t a prey. You were the goddamn hunter, and he was yours.

“I’m not afraid of you, Gaunt…” Your fingers moved with deliberate slowness, unbuttoning his shirt one torturous button at a time. Each pop of fabric felt like an explosion, and his body jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

“We shouldn’t be doing this”

“But here we are…”

Your lips hovered just inches apart from his, the temptation to give in to sin became nearly unbearable for either of you.

“Kiss me” You commanded.

His resolve snapped like a cheap rubber band. He crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so deep, so possessive, it felt like he was trying to mark you from the inside out. His tongue invaded your mouth, slick and desperate, mapping every inch of your warmth like he owned it. And you knew he fucking did. His hands were everywhere, greedy, roaming your torso, your curves, your skin. He squeezed your waist like he wanted to leave bruises, his fingers digging into your flesh like he was trying to carve his digits on you. He’d spent too many nights jacking off to the thought of this moment, and now that he had you, he wasn’t going to waste a single goddamn second.

His cock strained against the fabric of his trousers, throbbing with every breath you took against his lips. But your inner devil wanted to play more games before things went further. You pulled back just enough to make him growl, your lips wet from his kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails scraping lightly against his skin as you tangled your fingers in his hair. You yanked his head back just enough to make him groan.

“Sebastian kisses me better” you teased.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him so you could feel exactly what you were doing to him.

“Is that so?” he said, a tint of jealousy in his tone “You prefer his kisses?” His hands slid down to your ass, gripping you like he was trying to remind you who you really belonged to.

“I can’t recall… let me taste you again” You smirked, the fucking devil incarnated.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. His tongue sought entrance into your mouth, swirling with yours as you eagerly opened up to him. The taste of you on his lips was exquisite, and your teasing only fueled his desire.

“More” You moaned.

That was it.

He growled into your mouth, not some soft, romantic purr but a deep, primal rumble that vibrated through your lips and straight down to your core. His hands slid under your shirt, cupping your tits like it was his birthright, squeezing them hard enough to make you moan.

Ominis pushed you harder against the door, placing his knee between your legs and forcing you into a sitting position. Your hand lazily traveled down his chest, then down his stomach, lower they went, down to the waistband of his pants, where the outline of his cock strained against the fabric, throbbing with a need so intense it was almost painful. But you, let your hand hover there, taunting him. Your fingers grazed the tip of his shaft through the material, and you heard him groan in anticipation, before you pulled away completely, ignoring it, teasingly denying him what he so desperately craved.

“W-why—”

“You’re still holding back, Ominis. You are not getting it until I say so” You muttered in his ear.

But little did you know, he could play the same game. Fuck, he could even play it better than you.

He paused for a moment. His fingers traced a path from your knee, skimming over your thigh with a touch so light it made your skin prickle with goosebumps. Down your skirt, deeper he went, his hand cupping your ass for a moment, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp before he moved on. His fingers danced across your inner thigh, tracing circular patterns that made your legs tremble, until they finally reached the soaked fabric of your panties. You flinched, trying weakly to escape the caress that had already happened.

“Is that so?” He purred with satisfaction, leaning into your neck. “I was holding back for your own good, but now it’s obvious what you really want.” He said before biting into your jugular.

Oh, how the tables had turned for you.

“I warned you,” Ominis growled, taking his time to keep ghosting over your entrance, still tamed by a piece of cloth. “but you wouldn’t listen.” He carefully pulled it to the side and spread your legs wider, fully exposing you. You whimpered at his warm touch, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing, begging for his touch. “You never listen”.

With a feather-light caress, he hovered his thumb gently over your clit, almost touching it, causing you to pathetically moan louder in anticipation of what you thought was coming next.

“Oh? Needy are we?” He chuckled.

But just as quickly as he’d exposed you, he let the fabric snap back into place, the soft cotton brushing against your clit and making you whine. You couldn’t stand the sight of him over you any longer. He had barely touched you and you’d succumbed so easily. You thought you had him under control, but it turned out to be the other way around.

Your hips bucked instinctively, desperate for more.

“You want me to touch you?” He taunted, his tone dripping with mockery.

But the words stick in your mouth like thick honey, unable to escape. He grabbed your throat gently, carefully tightening his grip around you, feeling your pulse under his fingertips. Understanding you needed a little push, his fingers roamed back to your core, doing the same ritual he had performed only a few seconds ago.

“Ss-sspeak.” He commanded.

“Please,” you choked out, your hips grinding. “Please, touch me.”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers final-fucking-ly caressing your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your lips, teasing you until you were practically sobbing. Then, he pushed one finger inside you in one swift motion.

You gasped, your walls clamping down around him. Your slick coated his finger, making every thrust glide in and out of your tight core easier each time. The sound of your musky arousal was painfully loud to you. But for him, it was music to his ears. You opened your eyes and whined loudly, crumbling like sand, little by little under his touch, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“I bet you look beautiful when you’re like this” Ominis devoured you with his beautiful eyes, looking you dead in the eye as he introduced a second finger in you.

Your body betrayed every ounce of need coursing through your veins.He continued to work you, unhurried, taking his time feeling every shiver your body made when his fingers fucked you, slow and steady, his rhythm maddening. Your clit throbbed, begging for attention, and you couldn’t help but grind against his palm, fucking yourself on his hand.

“You’re such a mess, darling” He teased, his breath hot against your ear. “But you love this, don’t you? Taking my fingers like the good girl you are, writhing around like you can’t get enough.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent response—your brain was mush, your entire body on fire. Your hands clawed at his shirt, desperate for more of him. He didn’t stop you. Your fingertips crawled under the fabric when he fastened his tempo on you.

“Please…” You whimpered. You didn’t even know what you were begging for—his cock? His tongue? More of those fucking fingers that were deliciously destroying you from the inside out? All you knew was that you needed him, needed more, and if he didn’t give it to you soon, you were going to lose your goddamn mind.

Your cries were muffled by his palm, but your body was screaming for him, your hips bucking against his hand as you almost reached your peak. But a knock on the door made you both stop.

“Ominis? Are you in there?” Sebastian asked.

The sound of Sallow’s voice was like a bucket of ice water being thrown at both of you. Ominis froze, his fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt. The slick, obscene sound of them sliding out of you was almost as loud as your sharp gasp. You could feel your juices trickling down your thighs, hot and sticky, as his fingers finally left you empty. His hold on you loosened, making your feet find the ground. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy and fast rasps.

“Answer him” You whispered.

“Yess-ss…” He forced out the words, dragging them like a snake's hiss. His annoyance at being interrupted only heightened the tension in his voice.

Sebastian’s voice came again, a loud whisper. “Ominis, I swear to Merlin, if you’re jerking off in there—”

But the sound of other voices echoed throughout the corridor, indicating that Sebastian was being distracted by other students, meaning you’d have time to hide… or think of another solution.

Right?

Wrong.

You were drowning in Ominis Gaunt, your head swimming with the thick, intoxicating scent of his body, your mind haze-drunk on the forbidden. Your trembling fingers fumbled clumsily at the last button of his shirt. It popped free, and there it was—his chest, a landscape of goosebumps rising under your greedy gaze. His breath hitched, his cock already straining again and again against his pants, begging for release.

“This is wrong, so wrong...” he muttered.

But his words were hypocritical, a pathetic attempt to gain his restraint back. His hands were already on you, yanking your shirt up and over your head like a man possessed. The fabric hit the floor, and there you were—bare, exposed, your tits bouncing free, your nipples hard and begging for his mouth. He closed his eyes and inhaled, he wanted to devour you whole, and of course, you wanted him to.

His hands hovered over your chest, trembling, hesitant, like he was scared of the power he had over you. But then his fingers brushed your nipples, and fuck, the spark that shot through you was almost deathly. You bit your lip to stifle the moan, but it was a losing battle.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, his hands digging into your sides hard. You shivered, but he held you down, his body pinning yours. His tongue dragged a wet trail from your shoulder to your collarbone. He moved lower, his mouth closing over one of your tits. His tongue grazing your nipple. He bit down gently, then harder, and the pain melted into pleasure, your skin burning where his mouth had been.

“Shh,” he growled, slapping a hand over your mouth before you could scream. But it was too late—your moan spilled into his palm, muffled but still filthy, the sound of pure desperation.

“So, you are busy then?” Sebastian's insistence grated on Ominis' nerves. He stopped paying you attention and got closer to the door.

“I am not- WhatdoyouwantSebass-sstian?” He snapped

"Oh? Not busy then?" You whispered with a smirk.

Your hands roamed down this stomach until they found exactly where he needed you the most. Your fingers danced over the waistband of his pants, teasing the lace ties that kept his cock hidden away. Ominis’ body betrayed him, his cheeks flushing a deep, sinful red as he tried—half-heartedly to swat your hands away.

“Don’t you d—” he started, but the words dissolved into a choked moan as you yanked the lace free, his cock springing out with a hungry, throbbing eagerness.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his breath hitching as you dropped to your knees before him.

It was a pure and sinful invitation: veins pulsing and pre-cum glistening at the tip. You didn’t waste time. Your hands wrapped around his cock, fingers clumsily exploring the heat and hardness of him, feeling the way his cock twitched in your hand, desperate for more.

“Then if I come in, I wouldn’t be interrupting anything, right?” Sebastian insisted.

Ominis’ grip on the doorframe tightened, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his voice steady.

“No” he managed to answer, but the word was brittle, already cracking under the pressure.

“No?” you teased, your tongue darting out to taste the head of his cock, tasting the salt of his arousal.

His flavor was intoxicating, you couldn’t get enough. You wrapped your lips around him slowly, taking him inch by inch into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive underside of his shaft. Ominis’ breath hitched, a low, guttural groan escaping him as he gripped your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands with a possessive urgency.

“Actually, yess-ss you are interrupting.” Ominis stammered, his voice trembling as he tried to maintain the illusion of control. But you weren’t about to let him pretend.

Your hands roamed lower, tugging at his pants until they hit the floor in a crumpled heap, leaving him completely bare before you. His skin was pale and smooth, marked by a couple of moles spread like constellations over him and the faint trails of your nails as they dug into his thighs, leaving red scratches in their wake. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seemed to fucking revel in it, his hips bucking forward as you took him deeper into your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, guiding your head back and forth with a slow, deliberate rhythm that had him biting down on his lip. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room—wet, filthy, and utterly obscene.

Ominis’ eyes fluttered shut, his head thudding against the door as he lost himself in the sensation. His thumb brushed over your lips, smearing the spit that dripped down your chin, feeling with his hands on your cheeks, his cock fucking your mouth with slow, shallow thrusts.

But just as you began to drink in the full, glorious image of him—his cock slick and swollen fucking you, his body trembling with need—he closed your eyes with a gentle caress of his hand, his thumb resting on the edge of your mouth, feeling the friction of his cock in you.

The wet sounds of your lips wrapped around him grew louder, more frantic, and Ominis’ control was slipping fast. His hips jerked forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat in a way that had you gagging, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. But he didn’t care—he didn’t fucking care. All that mattered was the way your mouth felt around him, the way your throat tightened as he pushed himself deeper, the way your hands clawed at his thighs like you were desperate for something to hold onto.

“Ominis?” Sebastian’s voice was sharper now, more insistent. “Are you with... someone?”

“I-I’m relaxx-xxing…okay?” Ominis said between his teeth.

He was having you on a golden platter. Just for him. And he was starving. His hand fisted in your hair, slowly yanking you onto his dick. You squint one eye open, catching a glimpse of his abs flexing, his hips driving deeper, harder, until your nose pressed into his base. The sound of a soft pop broke the trance as he pulled his slick cock from your mouth, leaving a shimmering thread of spit dangling between your swollen lips and him.

"You're such a good girl" he growled in approval. His fingers traced your jawline, smearing spit across your cheek as he smirked down at you. “But let’s not forget—ladies first.”

He helped you up, not giving you time to react when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slowly, leaving you only with your skirt on. He pressed you against the door, teeth sinking into the back of your neck. He hissed against your ear, something you didn’t understand in Parselmouth.

“I said, bend for me ” He commanded.

You felt his hand pressing down on your back, forcing you to arch and present your ass to him like an offering. You reached behind you, desperate to feel the heat of his cock, but Sebastian interrupted again.

“Ominis, open the fucking door!”

Sallow was getting impatient, you could tell, and it was a matter of time before he casted Alohomora on the lock. You immediately stood straight, sick and tired of being interrupted over and over again.You turned to Ominis, breaking the moment for him, who was already kneeled. He looked angrily at you, like if you’d interrupted his meal… And well, you kinda did.

FOR FUCKS SAKE.

Can’t a girl just get a pleasent fuck in peace?

You opened the door boldly, just to find Sebastian with his ear pressed against the door. He froze in surprise as you quickly pulled him inside, closing the door behind you.

Ominis remained on his knees, motionless and stunned. Did you just open the door to Sebastian, mid-fuck?.

“There, happy?!” You said, but it quickly dawned on you what you’ve just done.

Well, shit.

After the longest awkward silence ever, Sebastian finally reacted.

"I knew it! I knew it," He began to panic, his hand running frantically through his hair. The glint of tears glistened in his eyes as a feeling of betrayal consumed him. "I knew you were both going to do this to me sooner or later. I knew you'd betray me. How could you do this to me? I've done nothing to deserve this." Tears streamed down his face.

But there was something about seeing Ominis slim naked body for the first time that made Sebastian unable to take his eyes off of him when the blonde stood up from the floor. And then, there was you—knees dirty, thighs slick with sweat and finger marks, and your hair all disheveled. He tried to brush off the strange feeling that had started building on his chest. It was betrayal, yes, but also something more.

“Relaxing, Ominis? Fucking relaxing?” Sebastian spat, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his eyes flickering between Ominis and you “Did you two—?”

“No,” you cut him off, but your voice was shaky, breathless.

Not yet…

But Sebastian wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

“How long has this been going on?” Sebastian’s voice was low, as he dropped onto the nearest bed, his thighs spreading slightly. His pants strained against the bulge that was already pushing against the zipper. He shouldn’t be this turned on, could he? He should be furious, raging at the betrayal of watching you and Ominis together. But all he felt was heat—a molten desire that coiled in his gut.

“Just today,” Ominis answered, his voice steady, calm, like he wasn’t standing there with his dick out and his lips still swollen from kissing you.

Fuck, even his voice was enough to make Sebastian’s breath hitch.

“Just today,” Sebastian repeated, his tone mocking.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to cross his legs to hide the massive tent in his pants, but it was no use. The outline of his cock was obvious, straining against the green pattern trousers, throbbing with every beat of his heart. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides to keep from reaching out and grabbing you both.

He shouldn’t want this. He shouldn’t. But goddamn, the sight of you two together—naked, sweaty, and still catching your breath—was enough to make his head spin. Sebastian’s stomach twisted, not with anger, but with a hunger so fucking raw it might as well have been feral.

Ominis stepped closer. He knew his best friend too well to not get the silent hint. “You’re enjoying this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. It wasn’t a question.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, but he couldn’t deny it.

“Shut up,” he growled, but there was no bite to it. His hands twitched, itching to touch, to grab, to claim.

And then Ominis did something that made Sebastian’s brain short-circuit. He dropped to his knees in front of him, his hands resting on Sebastian’s thighs. He looked up at him through his blonde lashes.

“You smelled us both in your Amortentia potion didn’t you?,” Ominis purred, his breath hot against his crotch. “That’s why you’ve been so defensive and… jealous.”

You moved closer to them, finally understanding everything. Your fingers glided through their hair with deliberate intent, locking eyes with Sebastian. More tears clinging to his dark lashes, betraying the turmoil within him as he struggled to accept the desire that burned inside him.

“Cinnamon and mint” He confessed in a low whisper.

He looked at you with watery eyes, and clumsily, unzipped your skirt. He kissed your lower belly, taking in your sweet scent.

You caressed his cheek as you sat behind him, your fingers deftly navigated the buttons of his shirt, each pop echoing like a thunderclap of liberation. As the fabric slipped away, his freckled back emerged, vulnerable and exposed. You enveloped him in an embrace, the press of your chest against his back a soothing balm to his chaotic soul. He exhaled deeply, surrendering to the raw emotions he had finally acknowledged. His head fell back with a groan, resting on your shoulder, his fingers tangling in Ominis’ hair as the blonde worked quickly to free Sebastian’s cock from its confines.

“Close your eyes, darling” You whispered in his ear as your palms caressed his eyelids, closing them, then proceeded to roamed his body, all the way to the base of his cock.

Ominis wrapped his lips around the tip, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head before sinking down further.

Sebastian was fucking gone. He didn’t know where he ended and you two began. His hips jerked upward as Ominis worked him, and his breath was caught on his throat at your hands, one on his groin, and the other one around his neck, tightening little by little with each thrust his hips did.

“You’re so warm” Sebastian exhaled breathlessly. “You feel so good, so fucking good”

“Just enjoy this, Sebs,” You muttered as your hand wrapped around his throat “and be a good boy”

A cry rolled from his lips as Ominis fastened his tempo on him, his hands roaming his thighs, pulling him deeper into him.

“I’m gonna cum. Stop…” Sebastian pleaded. “Stop”

“Manners, Sebastian?” You whispered.

Ominis pulled away with a loud pop, but his hand quickly replaced his mouth and kept working him.

“Well?” Ominis insisted.

“P-Please” When Sebastian said the magic word, Ominis then stopped.

“Good boy” Ominis praised before crawling into the bed with you, where you both guided Sebastian to join you.

You positioned yourself between the two of them, so that you could reach both of their mouths with yours. You pulled Ominis into a primal kiss, your tongues tangling together as he moaned into your mouth, your hands gripping his hair as he devoured you. His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, cupping your tits like he wanted to eat you whole.

At the same time, you took Sebastian's hands and guided them to your breasts as well, encouraging him to explore your body however he liked, moaning as he cupped them, his rough fingers toying with your nipples, pinching them just hard enough to make you gasp against Ominis’ lips. His cock throbbed against your back, leaving a sticky trail of precum on your skin as you ground yourself against him involuntarily. You could feel his tongue on your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh, sucking and biting.

Then, you grabbed Ominis’ hand and guided it to Sebastian’s neck, giving Sebastian the green light to finally kiss the man he’d been craving. And thank the gods you did.

Their lips met in a kiss so hot it should’ve set the room on fire. Their tongues tangled, slick and desperate, their cocks pressing against you from both sides, front and back, like they were trying to carve you with their hardness. You reached down and wrapped your hands around their cocks. They were both so hard it felt like steel in your grip. Precum dripped from their tips as you started stroking them—slowly, painfully slowly—spreading their slickness up and down their shafts, your fingers sliding over every vein and ridge. Ominis moaned into Sebastian’s mouth, his hips bucking into your hand, while Sebastian’s breath hitched.

You were the fucking conductor of this depraved symphony, your body writhing between them, your hands working their cocks with a rhythm that had them both on the edge of losing it. You could feel Ominis’ cock throbbing in your grip, his breath coming in ragged gasps, while Sebastian’s hips were jerking uncontrollably.

When you felt they were about to reach their peak, you stopped. Therefore, they did too, panting and regaining their senses. You shifted to face Sebastian, his lips slick with spit crashing into yours as your body moved with a purpose, getting in four, offering yourself to Ominis first.

Sebastian’s eyes went wide, his cock twitching at the sight of you, your ass presented to his best friend, and your lips parted and waiting for him.

The blonde’s cock teased your entrance, the tip of him brushing under your folds a few times, brushing your clit and making you shiver. He was thick, his shaft heavy with need, and you could feel the heat of him as he pressed against you.

“Fuck me,” You commanded.

And either of them need to be told twice. Sebastian came forward in an instant, his cock in his palm, hovering over your mouth, the tip dripping with precum that you licked up like it was candy. Your tongue swirled around the head, teasing the slit before taking him deep into your throat. Your hands reached up to grip his hips, pulling him closer as you sucked him like your life depended on it.

Meanwhile, Ominis was pushing inside you, his cock finally stretching you open in the most delicious fucking way. Your pussy clenched around him, feeling him, greedy for every inch as he filled you up. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deep as he let out a guttural moan. His hands were on your ass, holding you open as he fucked you.

Your moans vibrate on Sebastian’s cock, making Ominis slide a hand down your back to your scalp, making you take Sebastian even deeper with each thrust.

“You’re taking us both so well.”

Sebastian reached to your cheek, brushing off a tear that had begun to roll down your face. His other hand was in your hair, gripping it tight as he used your mouth.

But then his eyes flicked over to Ominis, and his rhythm faltered for just a second. The jealousy hit Sebastian like a fist to the gut.

“Fuck,” Sebastian growled “why does he get to be in you first?” His hips jerked harder, driving his cock down your throat until you choked “You like his cock better than mine?”

You were able to moan a “no” in response but Ominis cut you off right away.

“Don’t lie,” Ominis purred, squeezing your buttcheeks harder with each thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” Sebastian warned, his voice strangled as he kept fucking your throat.

You didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, your tongue working him over as Ominis pounded into you from behind. The symphony of the wet sounds of your pussy taking Ominis’ cock, the choked moans coming from Sebastian as he fucked your face filled the entire dorm.

And then it happened. Sebastian came with a quiet shout, his cock pulsing as he shot load after load down your throat. You swallowed every single drop, your eyes rolling back as Ominis kept hitting your sweet spot.

Sebastian’s hands were firm as he helped you up, carefully to not interrupt Ominis. His lips crashed into yours, hungry and possessive, the taste of himself still fresh on your tongue—salty, primal, and his. Your nails dug into his chest as the pure ecstasy of the moment consumed you.

When Ominis felt he was about to cum, he stopped and grabbed you from behind and trailed kisses down your back. You moaned at the loss of his cock in you.

“Not yet…” He teased.

His lips trailed down and up your back, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver. His teeth sunk into the tender flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp, your body arching against him as his fingers pinched your nipples—hard, just the way you fucking liked it.

“You’re more mine than you are hiss-ss,” Ominis growled into your ear in Parselmouth, his voice dripping with dominance, and a moan tumbled from your lips, raw and unfiltered.

Your hardened nipples were an open invitation to Sebastian’s mouth, which he immediately accepted, ruthless and hungry as he descended on your tits, sucking one hardened nipple into his mouth while his fingers pinched and twisted the other. Your back arched as you ground yourself against his hand, needing more, needing everything. Sebastian’s fingers plunged into your slick pussy, curling deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. Your juices coated his fingers, sticky and warm, as he pumped them in and out, until he had to hold you so you could stand still. Ominis grabbed your hips in place, and tightened his grip around your neck until he could feel the pulsing of your heart on your throat. His cock slid under your ass cheeks until he felt Sebastian fingers.

“You were the one who opened the door, remember?” Ominis whispered as he bit the shell of your ear. “How does it feel like to have both of us fucking you?”

The words trying to leave your throat weren’t coherent, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, your body was a quivering mess of pleasure and pain as they fucked you, tearing you apart and putting you back together with every thrust, every touch.

“You’re so perfect,” Sebastian growled, his lips brushing against your other ear, his voice rough with desire. “Your pussy’s like fucking velvet.”

You reached your climax, yes, but they didn’t stop, they accompanied you further in the waves of your first orgasm, their bodies moving in perfect harmony with yours.

Sebastian’s grin was predatory, he spun you around so you could face Ominis, his fingers—still slick with your arousal—pressed against your lips from behind. Your mouth opened like a reflex, your tongue flicking out to taste yourself, the tang of your juices mingling with the salt of your sweat.

Ominis couldn’t resist you. His forearms hooked under the back of your knees, pulling your legs wide open. Sebastian’s chest pressed against your back, pinning you in place as Ominis slid the head of his cock into your dripping cunt with one smooth, deliberate thrust. You gasped, the stretch of him almost too much, but fuck, it felt good.

He buried himself into your pussy. The obscene slaps of his hips against your pelvis echoed in the room, and you could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock as he pulled out and slammed back in. You glanced down��couldn’t help it—and saw your tits bouncing up and down and his cock disappearing into your slick.

“You like watching him fuck you?” Sebastian purred in your ear, his voice dripping with mockery and lust. You nod. “You like seeing him penetrate you, don’t you? Say it so he can hear you admit it”.

“Ye-Yes, I l-love it” You said between breaths.

Ominis’ hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. You were fucking drowning in sensation, your pussy throbbing around him, your clit still tingling from your previous climax.

Your second orgasm hit you like a mad train, and Ominis didn’t fucking stop. He drove into you harder, faster, his cock slamming into that sweet spot inside you until you were screaming, your body shaking like a leaf, prolonging your ecstasy. He pulled out at the last second, his cock jerking as he painted your stomach with thick ropes of cum, each shot followed by a low, guttural growl.

And then... then they were gentle. Sebastian’s fingers brushed the hair from your face as Ominis pressed soft kisses to the nape of your neck. They cleaned you up with tender care, their voices low and soothing as they whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You leaned into their touch, your clumsy hands roaming their bodies as they showered you with affection.

For all the filth they’d just put you through, they knew how to make you feel like a queen after. But you knew this was far from over.

“Lay down,” Sebastian then commanded in a whisper, and you both obeyed instantly.

Sebastian laid on his side next to Ominis, wrapping his hand around Ominis’ cock, his strokes fast and relentless, keeping his friend’s dick hard.

And you? You had some making up to do for interrupting Ominis’ meal earlier. You crawled toward the wooden bedframe, your thighs framing Ominis’ head like a crown. He didn’t waste a second. His forearms hooked down your thighs, making you sit. His tongue dove into your cunt, lapping up every drop of your -and his- arousal, his nose pressed against your clit, his breath hot against your slick folds. You ground yourself against his face as his tongue worked you tenderly, his lips sucking and nibbling at your sensitive flesh.

Sebastian’s hand was slick with sweat and something stickier as he worked Ominis’ cock, stroking him with a rhythm that was almost musical. Sebastian’s mouth left a trail of possessive kisses and sharp little bites that made Ominis hiss and writhe beneath him.

Sebastian’s tongue found the scar just below the V of Ominis’ hips—a jagged, pale line that told a silly childhood story. He licked it with a tenderness that was almost mocking, the heat of his mouth making Ominis’ back arch.

“Ss-sSebastian" The word was muffled by your body above him. But you hear it. Sebastian heard it. Probably the whole fucking common room heard it.

Sebastian responded, like a dog being called by its master. He dropped his head, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth motion. The wet, slurping sounds he was making were loud, obscene and totally on purpose so you could hear what he was doing.

And it fucking worked.

You climbed off Ominis, your thighs trembling, as he licked his lips clean with a shameless moan. You kissed your way down his chest, your tongue tracing the ridges of his abs, your hands roaming lower while Sebastian continued to blow him with lips and tongue, his eyes closed, lost in the rhythm. Your fingers laced with his brunette hair, encouraging to take Ominis even deeper.

“He looks so pretty with his lips around your cock, Ominis” You teased, caressing his groins, seeing how he twitched even more at your touch.

“Ss-Sebastian fucking Ss-Ssssallow,” Ominis hissed again, his voice a broken rasp, his hips bucking up into Sebastian’s mouth.

You switched places with Sebastian then, positioning yourself between their tangled legs like some kind of snake. Both men were devouring each other, their hands couldn’t get enough of their skin, pushing and pulling into primal wet kisses, their cocks like two concrete towers framing the scene.

Your mouth found Sebastian’s entrance, teasing it with slow, torturous licks while your hands worked them both at once—Sebastian’s cock heavy and hard in your palm, Ominis’ slick with spit and pre-cum on the other.

You took both of their fluids and began to caress Sebastian’s hole, preparing him for what you knew it was coming. It was so obvious, even Ominis could see it. Your fingers pushed into Sebastian, stretching him open with slow, firm motions while your mouth worked Ominis now, taking him deep until you choked on him. Sebastian moaned at the intrusion, his body opening up for you like a fucking flower, his hole clenching around your fingers like he was begging for more.

It was obvious—painfully obvious—what he wanted.

Ominis sat and pulled you up with him, raining kisses over your arm and shoulder as he laid you on your back next to Sebastian. You eased yourself onto the cool sheets, allowing your legs to fall open invitingly as Sebastian rolled over you.

He sat on his knees just on top of you, taking in the sight of your beautiful and vulnerable position beneath him. He noticed your legs trembling -obviously, right?- so he took them up to his shoulders and kissed them from your feet all the way to your knees. At the same time, Ominis' hands danced across Sebastian's body, fingertips eagerly exploring every contour and curve of his chest as if trying to memorize its exact topography. Going behind him, he leaned in close to Sebastian, pressing fevered kisses along his back, causing him to arch into the sensation. The arousal coursing through him manifested itself in his throbbing erection, leaking in anticipation.

You were there too, grinding your hips up against Sallow, inviting him. You watched, your breath hitching, as he dragged his spit-slick fingers down to your pussy, the coldness of it making you gasp as he circled your clit.

Ominis’ hands slid lower, gripping Sebastian’s ass as he pushed himself between the man’s thighs. Sebastian groaned, his forehead falling into yours as Ominis pressed his erection against him, teasing the rim of his ass with his cock. You could see the way Sebastian’s body trembled, caught between the pleasure of your heat below and the promise of Ominis’ intrusion behind.

You positioned Sebastian’s cock at your entrance, just before Ominis pushed into him, slow but firm, making Sebastian gasp, his muscles tightening around the invading length.

“Fuck, ah” Sebastian moaned, the word rough and broken, like it had been dragged out of him.

Your hands roamed his body, feeling his muscles tense and relax as Ominis fucked him from behind. Sebastian’s hips rocked forward, his cock parting your folds, and making you whine in pleasure as you could feel, and see, both of them.

Ominis controlled you both, and he knew it. He leaned over Sebastian, his breath hot against the man’s ear as he whispered:

“You’ve been waiting for this moment, haven’t you? And look at her—look how she’s taking you. Look how you’re fucking her.”

Sebastian’s hazel eyes locked onto yours, glassy with pleasure, his lips parted as he panted. You could see the desperation in his gaze, the way his body trembled as Ominis fucked him harder, deeper, his thrusts sending Sebastian’s cock slamming into your pussy with a wet, obscene slap. You reached up, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as you rode the wave of pleasure that was threatening to consume you.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel” Ominis commanded.

“ Fucking g-good” Sebastian cried.

And then you realized—he wasn’t just talking to Sebastian. He was talking to you. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a moan, a high, keening sound that was drowned out by the wet slap of skin on skin.

“Tell me” he insisted

“So good,” you moaned, your voice trembling as Sebastian’s cock hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur. “So fucking good—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Take it all.”

And you did. You took everything they gave you, your body writhing as pleasure built in your core like a storm. You could feel Sebastian’s cock twitching inside you.

The mattress creaked under you three, the bedframe was pounding the wall almost as hard as Ominis was pounding both of you. Your lips locked onto Sebastian’s in a messy, desperate kiss that left your mouths slick with spit. His hands clawed at the bedframe, his knuckles white as he tried to hold on, but his arms trembled like he was about to collapse from the sheer intensity of it.

As you came with a scream, your core clenched around him. Right after you, Sebastian came hard, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you up with his hot, sticky cum. Ominis too—he buried himself to the hilt in Sebastian’s ass, his cock twitching as he emptied himself deep inside.

The room was a fucking mess— Sebastian collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he stared up at the ceiling, a lazy smile spreading across his face. His dark hair was a mess, sticking to his forehead, his lips were swollen.

“Fuck,” you muttered, noticing your thighs were still trembling “I think I just saw Merlin.”

Ominis chuckled. He joined you both and leaned back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling as he traced a finger down your side, his touch sending shivers through your oversensitive skin.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice low and dripping with smug arrogance.

Sebastian reached out as well, his fingers brushing against your stomach, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender. “We didn’t break you, did we?”

Oh, but you were broken—shattered into a thousand little pieces, your body a wreck of pleasure and exhaustion, your pussy still throbbing, your skin sticky, but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so... satisfied.

“I’m more than fine,” you managed to rasp. “Don’t worry.”

Ominis, the gentle lover he was despite the filth he’d just unleashed on your body, leaned in to press soft kisses on the curve of your neck, his lips lingering against the pulse point that still fluttered wildly. Sebastian followed, nibbling at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin just enough to make you shiver. The three of you lay there, enveloped in the afterglow of your masterpiece of depravity.

👉 Are there any grammar mistakes? Probably. Will I fix them? No. Thank you 😃 Happy HL Anniversary & early Valentines Day! ✨🫰

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebastian x ominis x mc #sebastian x reader #ominis x reader #ominis x sebastian #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy oneshot #heylorrainart #writers on tumblr #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

890 notes · View notes

hhrtfelt · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, do you write for min su? Just him being a bit of a pervert

pervert min-su x fem!reader

₊ ⁺ ⊹ ₊ ⁺ ⊹

﹒　૮꒰◞ ◟ ꒱ა　⸝　new upload!　❜

　　　˚　　　　　➺　　　　　❀

　⸝⸝　　◦　　tags: pervertness, suggestive staring/language, min-su acting clueless and dumb to get his way, reader is more clueless, game au, mentions of jerking off, i wouldn’t call this smut but some people may so idk, min-su overshares with the wrong people and they fuck him over, female reader intended (sorry fellas…), ooc? (most likely)

　⸝⸝　　◦　　a/n: how late am i to this…? shut up. also im sorry if this isn’t what you wanteddd people being perverted isn’t my favorite thing to write about but i had no other ideas and decided to do my request so i hope this is good for you!! i also just don’t like writing about me unless it’s like nam-gyu hehehehehhe also sorry if this isn’t short it is currently 1:33AM while i’m writing this sentence…

BLUE: MIN-SU

GREEN: NAM-GYU

PURPLE: THANOS (his english is in italics)

PINK: READER

masterlist • rules

₊ ⁺ ⊹ ₊ ⁺ ⊹

min-su is a perv, but not on purpose… his eyes just wander and happen to land on you…!

…right?

yes, min-su is naturally shy and a people pleaser, who is usually timid and gets under pressure extremely easy, but why wouldn’t he use that advantage of him being ‘clueless’ or shy all the time to ogle at the girl that’s also in the group with him?

ever since you, se-mi, min-su, nam-gyu, thanos, and gyeong-su have been hanging out, he’s found himself staring more and more at your lips, or at your chest while your talking. enjoying the way your lips move and fantasize on how they would feel against bist, and how your chest would feel if he’s holding them in his hands. wait, is he drooling? fuck.

it’s not his fault you just are the definition of eye candy.

past that, he would always want to attempt to protect you or become someone you could lean on, but he’s to shy to really do anything about it.

when you two are alone, he gets really scared, as if he wasn’t already before, while you talk to him you can’t help but he his eyes ‘innocently’ graze your figure. you didn’t think anything of it, he didn’t mean any harm!

after a game, or talking to you alone, he feels all this pent up emotion that he just goes to the bathroom and relieves some stress.

by imagining you sucking or jerking him off in the stall.

he can’t help it!

cutting to lights out, he finds himself admitting his feelings to nam-gyu and thanos out of peer pressure

(during this section if you didn’t read the cor coded text names before this started, please go back! it’ll make sense!)

“i—i mean she’s cute.. i—i don’t really know..”

”dude—“

thanos put a hand out and looked up at the both of them from where he was sitting “nam-su i got this, bro”

“dude, we’ve seen the way you look at her tits, it’s okay man.”

min-su attempted to save himself, but let out a shaky sigh, putting his head down as he spoke.

“…yeah well, i’ve liked her since she’s joined the team. i mean, she’s kind, funny, endearing, very… very beautiful… and… um… very beautiful…yeah…” he rambled to them, not on purpose, but everything just flowed perfectly.

“min-su, when you had to go to the bathroom as soon as we got back from grabbing our lunches, why’d you immediately have to go to the bathroom?” “oh! i know!”

“we all heard you by the way, bro”

min-sus heart sank as he listened to the boys, shrugging them off.

(to cut this short, nam-gyu and thanos told you and you eventually started avoiding his slightly more since you were creeped out)

ok scenario over!!!

while he was sitting next you, he accidentally gripped your waist,

as you felt the grip of his hand on your waist, you turned to him with a concerned and scared looked on your face.

“min-su?” “are you okay?”

he looked completely shaken up as he let go quickly, turning the other way from you.

“yes— i’m so— so so sorry.. i’m sorry.. that was an accident.”

“it’s okay, just give me a warning next time..!”

#squid game #min su squid game #nam gyu #player 124 #squid game 2 #nam gyu x reader #se mi squid game #squid game season 2 #nam gyu squid game #namgyu #jae won roh #min su x reader #min su smut #pinksugarberries loves

485 notes · View notes

humpster35 · 1 month ago

Text

|You can’t buy love|

Bf!Chris x fan!reader

Divider from pinterest

|contains: angst, fluff, slight yelling, crying and established relationship

“Chris you don’t have to keep getting me things.” Y/n held the cartier watch in her hand. This was another gift Chris had gotten her since they decided to date. She couldn’t even count how many items she had by him.

Chris sat on the couch and sighed. He knew that if he didn’t spoil her, in his mind, then she would just leave and post about how bad of a boyfriend he was. It was almost like an act he put up.

They met at the Surprise Party Tour. Y/n was allowed V.I.P after Nick liked her energy in the crowd. Or so she was told. It sounds cheesy but, that same morning Y/n just knew her life was about to be changed. It was the same gut feeling she had when she looked into Chris’s eyes.

She didn’t wanna seem like those delusional fans who always thought the triplets wanted them, but there had been signs.

The first time she entered the building, Y/n watched as all the fans screamed looking at her. Or more so, behind her. When she turned around she realized that standing there was Chris Sturniolo, I guess he had been late coming in.

In his hands he held a bag and some equipment. Y/n smiled at the stuff knowing that Nick most likely scolded Chris for being forgetful about bringing it. She moved out of his way and did a simple nod in his direction. Chris walked two steps then stopped and looked back at her.

“Hey, are you gonna be submitting an anonymous confession?”

Y/n shook her head no and laughed.

“No im definitely not gonna embarrass myself like that.”

Chris laughed with her and then scratched his head. He started walking away again and the fans, who were recording the whole moment, starting flocking to her to ask questions.

Once she had found her seat, the left side behind a girl and her sister, she then waited until it started. Y/n’s eyes lit when she saw the countdown end and Nick, Matt and Chris appeared on screen, making their way to the main stage.

The show was amazing. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at seeing their dynamic and arguments in person. The times Chris would glance at the crowd, only to spot her, he held his gaze. The intense beating of Y/n’s heartbeat was drowned out by screaming of excited fans.

During the meet and greet section of tour, Y/n was pulled into a hug by Nick. He seemed really happy to meet her, Y/n didn’t know it, but Chris had told Nick about his interest in her. So with a sly smirk and two second hugs from Matt and Nick—Chris gently pulled Y/n in and held her.

The photographer accidentally snapped a picture of the two together, this caused Matt and Nick to laugh. Y/n smiled at Chris. Their faces were so close now, she could feel the heat emitting from his body, the way his cologne smelled, she saw his freckles on his face and the way his eyes were much more striking.

With a blush appearing on her face, Y/n posed for the picture.

After three months of texting Chris asked Y/n out on an actual date. This led to them dating and she didn’t notice how much he would spend because he would always make sure to throw the tags away—but she knew that it would expensive because of the quality.

This leads to the conversation in the beginning—Y/n is angry at Chris for thinking that he can get her something and it’ll make her stay.

“Why Chris? Why can’t you just talk to me more like a regular person—I don’t need gifts.”

Chris glanced in Y/n’s direction—his eyes scanning her expression. He knew that what she was saying made sense, but he also wanted to show that he could physically care for her.

“You don’t get it you’re not famous.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed dryly. The tears starting to form in her eyes—wiped away by the swipe of her hand.

“Oh yea Chris i’m not famous—I forgot i’m your little fan girl.”

“Oh cut the bullshit Y/n.”

Y/n furrowed her brows and threw the watch down. The sound of glass breaking echoed—Chris flinched at the sudden noise but stood his ground.

“No you cut the bullshit Chris. I love you—do you know how hard it is to be with someone who everyone wants? It’s hard waking up to death threats almost everyday, because some twelve year old thinks I don’t deserve to be with you.”

Y/n’s voice is hoarse—full of pain as she rants to Chris. He watches her hiccup, placing a hand on her chest to help ease her hyperventilation.

“Then I have to come here—visiting you, I just wanna be with my boyfriend. Chris you get me gifts as a way to shut me up. I wanna talk to you—you can’t buy love.”

Chris didn’t speak—he let his feet carry him to the girl standing before him. As she stood there crying, her face all flushed—breathing heavy, Chris’s heart broke. He never even considered how she felt.

He knew he was famous, but he didn’t even think of different things would be for his partner rather than him. Y/n had taken all the heat and internet hate off of him. Chris pulled Y/n in—his hands caressed her hair. He could feel her hands shaking from the overwhelming pressure of expelling her feelings—it was the same feeling Matt got.

“Shh shh—I’m sorry, i’m so sorry Y/n.”

Y/n reached around Chris’s waist and held him. She held him as if she let go—then she would lose him forever. Y/n didn’t wanna be alone again, not when she could have someone like Chris in her life. It wasnt her intention to lash out on him, things had been building and building—Chris gently lifted her face up by holding her chin.

“You’re not a fan girl. I want you to understand that.”

Y/n looked into Chris’s starry eyes—his eyes could drown a thousand wounds. She nodded wanting to hear what he had to say.

“I will always always love you. There is no amount of jewelry —fuckin shoes I could that would ever express and explain how fucking fast my heart beats when looking at you.”

Chris traced Y/n’s jawline, his finger slowly reached her eyes—wiping away the tiny tears.

“The truth is, in my own head—I felt that if I didn’t get you those things,then you would leave.”

Y/n shook her head, as she gently kissed Chris’s chest—her nerves started to calm.

“I’d never leave you Chris. I love you way too much—I don’t think…” Y/n looked away for a second, her mind clearing processing her emotions.

“I don’t think I can breathe without you.”

Chris let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. His whole world stood between his arms—she was unconditionally, completely certain of the love she too shared for him.

“I love you, my Moon—stars, my skin.”

Y/n laughed a bit at the last part. Her demeanor was slowly going back to how it usually was around Chris—calm, happy and flirty.

“Why skin?”

Chris kisses her lips with passion. He pulled back—his hands cupping her face. Her beautiful face in them.

“Because you’re always gonna be with me—on my body. You’re my skin because even when times get rough or dirty, you stay.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and playfully hit his side.

“You’re so corny Christopher.”

Random blurb I had started working on two days ago—just now finishing it up as I work on the actual fics and smuts that have been requested.

tag list💌

@mattsweethart @salaciousxsturniolo @seeing-stars-today @stvni0l0 @sturniolofruitloop @sturnispider @sturnzsblog @sturnstarsblog @mattspillowprincess @hannahsturniolo @passionfruitchris @riggysworld @regulaho @grace-sturnz @eeyoresturnz @eyesonmattyb

153 notes · View notes

storiumemporium · 2 months ago

Text

Terminal

Chapter 1 - Spring Cleaning

It Happened™️did I think it would happen? No. But it happened and here we are and it's terminally bad 😭

“What can you do?” “Well…” you start after a pause that goes on too long. “I am- I am one of the foremost black hats in the country, cracking code is sort of my thing. I’m- Miss de Fontaine wishes for me to become the brain for your operation, handling the technological side of your missions so that you can focus on the physical parts.” "Is that why you’re not here, then? Keeping your identity concealed?” “Oh God no! No… I just- I work best from where I am right now.” And nowhere, nowhere else. --- Fourteen months following the void out of Manhattan, Valentine Allegra de Fontaine has you assigned as the newest member of her struggling superhero team. The New Avengers. You serve as their eyes and ears, their brain, and their personal AI in the style of famous JARVIS, though you lack the cool accent. Oh, and you also haven't left your home in nearly a decade, so.

Bucky thought himself to be a long suffering kind of guy.

Just… you don’t make best friends out of Steven Grant Rogers - any iteration of Steven Grant Rogers - without an unusually high penchant for tolerating bullshit in your day to day. Oh, your buddy is ninety-seven pounds and picked a fight with a guy bigger than you are, Buck? No problem, go get your ass kicked too if it means keeping him out of the hospital.

Oh, your buddy entered an experimental program while you were locked away in some HYDRA camp? No problem, just follow the lunatic wherever the hell he decides he wants to go.

It just didn’t matter, if Steve wanted to do something then Bucky was the guy.

The problem is - and half a dozen therapists have forced him to accept it by now - is that this isn’t just a Steven Grant Rogers thing. This is a James Buchanan Barnes thing.

Which is why he now is in charge of all of these assholes.

Fourteen months and twelve days since the New Avengers made their entirely unplanned debut to the world, and the barely rebranded New Avenger’s Tower had become something like a home and a hub all in one. It wasn’t as if the informally known Thunderbolts had anywhere else to go. Alexei wanted to be with his daughter, Yelena wanted to be an Avenger like her sister, Bob just wanted to be with people who cared for him, Ava did not oppose the lavish new means, and John was… himself.

Bucky? Well. He was between things, except the between period had only gotten longer and longer, and he was having a harder and harder time imagining being anywhere else than here. They’d grown on him, like mold. Or tumors.

Truth be told, they needed each other. It wasn’t outside the realm of Bucky’s psychology to understand that going it alone just wasn’t feasible. It wasn’t for ordinary people whose worst traumas were the goldfish they accidentally killed as a child, and it definitely wasn’t for people like them.

So he stayed, and really, he didn’t even try to figure out a reason not to stay.

The Tower, since it’s renovation, has undergone a nauseating trading of hands across the members of the Thunderbolts in a way that reminded Bucky of old school Tom n’ Jerry until finally landing on it’s longest and most comfortable configuration. The things that had stayed the same: all communal areas of the Tower remained squarely in the dead center, just above the neighboring office buildings, and positioned so that everyone had to be equally inconvenienced on travel time through the skyscraper. Bucky remained in the same floor he has been since they moved in- nobody was really willing to fight him on it on account of stubbornness. Bob got to keep the floor closest to the communal center, directly beneath. He didn’t like heights, and no one had the heart to force him to be far away.

Yelena took a floor close to Bob, Alexei took the floor closest to Yelena. John made sure to take the furthest floor he could from Bucky, leaving Ava in the middle.

Somehow this still created conflicts. Mostly in the fact that John and Bucky shared an elevator and the bastard was always racing him to use it first, leaving the other waiting there god knows how long dependent on where they were going.

In spite of their infrastructural warfare, the arrangement was nice.

Everyone stuck close by even with the immense amount of space afforded - often made uneasy by the scale - and the communal spaces of the Tower ended up being the most used for all things, sometimes even sleeping when nightmares or thoughts got severe enough to warrant not being alone. They all had them, but it was most often a divided line where some needed that space distinctly more often than others.

Bucky had categorized it into type S and type C, he was told type Stable and type Crazy were a little too harsh. So it’d been rebranded to Stable and Catastrophizing. He liked to think of himself as belonging to type S, sitting squarely alongside Yelena and Ava.

Progress for them meant a slow and arduous crawl from one rung of a seemingly infinite ladder to the next. Months on end of grueling and thankless work filled with uncomfortable conversations and deep personal confrontation to hopefully inch the tiniest bit forward on the path. The type of progress that Bucky knew intimately felt as if it wasn’t actually progress, at least in the moment. All these changes so minute that they could be overlooked in favor of all the places you should already be. You had to look back over the weeks, months, and years to really see how much you’d improved yourself.

John, Alexei, and above all else Bob belong to Catastrophizing.

He’s watched them make massive leaps and bounds seemingly in a matter of months, comparatively overnight versus his own progress. The sort of rapid adjustment to life that Bucky could bite steel over. Cutting their hair, putting on - conversely losing - weight. New clothes, a better outlook on life. It felt like some romanticized iteration of recovery where a hug and a ‘you matter!’ were enough for them to simply be cured of their afflictions.

Then the crash would come.

They would fall harder than Yelena, Ava, even he himself ever had. Possibly even combined*.* A total square one restart, if not at times worse*.* Like they’d taken eight steps back from when they first met each other. Somehow spitefully stuck themselves even deeper into the mud. It was always a titanic, catastrophic sort of mess. The kind of thing that couldn’t truly be prevented, only patiently waited out.

For Alexei that usually meant hiding the alcohol, forgiving the disappearance of food. Not acknowledging the couch has been robbed days in a row as he was robbed of the willpower to get off it and sleep in his own bed. Quiet nights spoken in Russian between himself, Yelena and Alexei. Tender with his daughter, reminiscing with Bucky.

For John, sparring matches that turned into outright fistfights. Vicious words that weren’t truly meant, met with stone until the soldier would hiss and seethe and retreat into himself and his room. He’d only reemerge days later looking a husk, a peace treaty offered by coffee and a conversation no one really wanted to have. Shave, Walker. Fuck you, Barnes. The shadow gone from his face and his eyes by next morning.

Bob? Holding on, no matter what. Sometimes that meant dealing with the ache of seeing him recoil harder from a gentle touch than he would a harsh slap. Dark, soft blue eyes turning beady and sharp with paranoia at the concept of freely given love and companionship. Catatonia met with meals, victories if he took even one bite. For Yelena, washing his hair when he couldn’t muster it. For Bucky, offering a hand Bob wasn’t afraid to crush in his sleep. When he needed to feel not-alone, but not-terrified of his own strength.

It was a system. A bad, fucked up, ill conceived one. But it worked, it was theirs.

They were getting better, their way.

This month has proven itself to be comparatively light in the mentalympics department, as Ava had called it and it had stuck. None of the Thunderbolts have been required to leave the Tower at any point in the last few weeks, taking it as their paid-for vacation meant that the only times anyone braved the city that never slept was to stock up on large amounts of booze and snacks- too impatient for the weekly drop off to arrive. From there? Game nights, movie nights, show nights. Charades has come up an alarming number of times with Yelena topping the scoreboard most frequently and Alexei consistently failing to guess almost anything. John and Ava have made a running pool on how many times the man can somehow derive Soviet era propaganda out of the weird undulations another member of the team is making.

All of this is pockmarked with training sessions, evenings taken to snoop around the tower (a year later and new things still keep getting found). And sometimes the overhead being stolen to play music while everyone brings blankets and pillows from their floor.

Ava and Yelena started it. Bob joined without much hesitation. Alexei joined with no hesitation. John and Bucky were pretty helpless to deny what they knew was coming.

The sleepover tradition.

Still, it’s early in the morning and there’s no guarantee anyone will posit that tonight be the night everyone clusters the sunken conversation pit with all manner of malleable objects to sleep on. Instead, Bucky scrolls through the The New Yorker on his phone while drinking dubiously spiced coffee out of a mug labeled ‘badass babysitter’ on the side with little cartoon flowers strewn across it in pastels. He’s already fully dressed for the day, and the deep navy blue and sheer black contrasts entertainingly with the salmon colored ceramic. Alexei’s word, not his. Across from him is Yelena, phone also in hand and feet on the table. John has been warring with her penchant for climbing on furniture for some time now, Bucky knows he’s already lost. She’s adorned in one of the many bundles of Avengerz clothing Alexei had procured for the team since everything went a touch sideways, avidly denying to ever be seen in public with it and yet unable to deny the softness of the pajamas. Her hair is unkempt, pale tresses scattered about and her face bare of any makeup. She looks unguarded like this, just taking space rather than commanding it per her usual.

“Do you think it’s been too quiet, lately?” Yelena’s voice cuts abruptly across the table at him, her head suddenly lifting from her phone and toward the ceiling, conversational but loud enough for the muscles in Bucky’s shoulders to twitch reflexively. Her brows pinched like she was wrestling with a puzzle. “I mean, there hasn’t even been a fire in the kitchen this last week. It feels wrong. We’re never this pleasant to be around.”

Bucky’s phone clicks dark, clattering gently on the steel-and-glass surface provided by Valentina’s many interior designers. Sterility was in, apparently. “Hello to you too, Yelena. Don’t jinx it, maybe?”

To that, Bucky is rewarded a shit eating smile from his friend. Though she’s still not exactly turned to look at him, her head has canted further in his direction knowing that he’s taken her bait for the morning. “Please, better to know now so that you’re prepared when all the good behavior comes back as something much, much worse for you later.”

The ‘for you’ was pointed, badass babysitter glinting ominously on the side of his cup as he took another sip from it.

“Well, I would like to continue believing you’re all just finally beginning to grow up. I’m very proud.”

“Who- uh, who is growing up around here?”

Bob found his way up from the floor below, finally. Though the man struggled with sleep it didn’t typically make him any more of an early riser, certainly not the way Bucky was- instead, if Bob wasn’t already camped out in the living room watching the sun come up, he was often close to the last to arrive.

“Absolutely no one, but we can let the old man dream.” Yelena is grinning once more at him, a little less sharp as Bob passes around the two of them on his way to the fridge. “I was just saying that this place seemed a little too quiet as of late.”

And without a beat missed; “Don’t see that lasting too long.”

“See! I told you.”

Eggs are tossed onto the counter, organic as demanded by John. A pan retrieved from it’s designated ‘we don’t care what happens to this one because it’s cheap and maybe someone stole it?’ spot, also known as Bob’s favorite spot in the kitchen (he lacked guilt if these ended up destroyed in some way or another) to be placed on the electric burner and warmed. Scrambled eggs, or omelettes? He was feeling pretty good, so maybe something a little fancier this time. He liked to treat himself in these tiny ways, because it felt like a reward but one he had to… earn? You don’t get nice omelettes if you don’t learn how to cook them yourself, type of thing.

Just as fluidly as he’d entered the conversation, Bob slips free of it, electing to become a background ear to the chaos of Yelena and Bucky chattering at each other. Their voices morphing into a fuzzy blanket over his still waking mind. A metaphorical radio turned on low so that he could focus on swimming to consciousness rather than the creeping anxiety of too much silence. The cadence of their voices soothing, the familiarity of it cozy and predictable. Today it seemed they were bickering over whether or not the Tower was going to be - wait, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. Something about firebombing the garden?

He hoped not. He liked it out there. Being outside without, y’know. Being outside. Still wasn’t quite good at that one.

Omelette to plate, plate to table, Bucky watches Bob situate himself dead in the center of his exchanging of light barbs with Yelena. The food passing into his mouth without much consideration, dark eyes blinking out at the windows across from them. This, itself, was an update for Bob. At the beginning even false tensity tended to make the mans’ hackles rise, waiting for the moment it turned severe and he needed to duck out of the way of whatever aggression was working it’s way out.

Now, he snorts to himself when Yelena calls Bucky frostbitten.

He’s a little like Yelena in that regard, in that he feels like a person inhabiting a space these days. But where Yelena hid behind a deadly persona, Bob had just seemed ashamed to need the same air they did. A little ghost with his shoulders to his ears. Now? Now he lets the tongs of his fork clink against the plate without wincing, and openly pays attention to the conversation he hasn’t reentered himself into.

John and Ava have returned after their first round of disturbing Bucky’s well needed relaxation in the breakfast area, and Alexei is finally arriving for the first time that day as Bucky is retrieving his and Yelena’s third cup of coffee, Bob’s first. (He wasn’t the most fond of coffee, but he appreciated the pick-me-up, especially when a frankly nauseating amount of creamer was involved.)

“We really need some kind of big spectacle, yknow? Just- yeah we can say we’re the Avengers and we can live in the old crews place, but we really need to kick some ass to secure our hold in it.”

“Well what do you propose, John? Beam a signal out into space? ‘Hey aliens, come here and pick a fight with us so we can look cool to the other people here!’”

“Pfft, no. They’d never agree to that.”

Ava is squinting at him from her position, close to Yelena who has now moved close to Bucky as the chairs shuffled around to accommodate the other three bodies clustering in. Bob has started to hit proximal capacity, with his shoulders squeezed slightly even though no one came close to brushing with him. It didn’t help that the man got caught between Alexei and John for company, both make their brand of obnoxiousness into a flag they bear proudly.

“Look, I’m just saying! We wouldn’t be having these problems if we were doing more than fight people the public never get to hear about in the first place.” John was poking at his second breakfast of the day, something he’d apparently ordered off Doordash? to be brought to the tower of all places, pushing around browned sausage and crisp hashbrowns and gravy and other assortments of things. “At this point we’re just doing the same thing we always did but together. And with matching suits.”

“Matching suits are good! Make us look strong, united!”

“It’s better that the public doesn’t know,” Bucky interjected over Alexei’s enthusiasm of identical attire, and had an elbow on his armrest now, waving about the other hand freely as he spoke. “If they know, that means we didn’t get there in time to stop them from doing something.”

“So you’re saying we’re too good at our job?” Ava, incredulous and scathing as ever.

“Yes!”

“No, not exactly. Just that sometimes this is thankless work.”

“Well maybe I’d like to be thanked.”

“Or at least keep getting paid.”

Bob’s eyes are darting about the conversation, watching how it develops without any really desire to partake. It’s not that he isn’t part of it, exactly. But that he doesn’t necessarily… care.

So what if they aren’t Avengers? Do they need to be? Isn’t the important part that they’re helping people?

His mouth opens to posit that question - dumb as it might be - to his friends, when:

“Ladies, gentlemen! I hate to interrupt.” It was like dousing ice across everyone in the room, for all the way all warmth and fondness fled out the windows and down the stairwell to some place they did not occupy.

Valentina’s voice still inflicted some sort of deep seated anger in Bob, he wasn’t sure why. Though he knew she was the one originally trying to kill all of them in the vault, and that according to Yelena and Ava she’d done… something with him while he was in his Sentry state, he wasn’t exactly sure what.

Maybe the part of him that twisted with rage still did.

It had him smacking his lips irritably, pushing the plate away curt enough that it let out a mild whistle against the surface of the table that didn’t go unnoticed. John’s eyes were on him steadily, recognizing that flare of temper for what it was. It was one of the few more serious conversations they’d ever had with each other. Anger, and managing it in ways that didn’t result in broken furniture or self inflicted bruises. He didn’t need to say anything for Bob to nod at him. I’m cool.

Little could be done by way of explaining the idiosyncrasies of a body fundamentally divorced from itself.

“There’s an exciting new update for all of you. Something very important. Non negotiable. Head for the boardroom, you have thirty.”

---

Less could be done to provide comprehension to the scope of deprivation it required to no longer feel apart of the species you were, by all rights, born to.

Basically, you were a rather difficult creature to explain or understand. Not that you had much by way of practice in doing that.

So, here’s the thing:

Manhattan, New York is one of the wealthiest areas in the world - much less the country, that you could live. Brownstones, historic districts, lavish parks, beautiful boutiques. It was a gorgeous place, green and lush, industrial and waiting with open palms for those who had the means to take it.

You were buried a quarter mile beneath Manhattan.

With the cold war came the advent of nuclear hysteria, the world ever terrified for a mushroom cloud apocalypse that would bring with it the winter to end all winters. The world would crumble away to ice and decay and all life would slow to a crawl until only the most adapted and isolated of creatures could outlast the Earth repairing it’s destructive near-end.

And then none of that happened, actually.

But the important part of that is what came from it. What you got out of it. Circa the 1960’s full terror had gripped the nation that our world was going to end, but if you were a particularly savvy (and exorbitantly rich) hotel owner in one of the nicest areas of the entire country, you were building fallout bunkers and you were doing it before it was cool. And with so many of these incredibly intelligent wealthy individuals making shelters of all different shapes, sizes, and needs… Some of them just slipped through the cracks, entirely forgotten about.

Which made them ripe for the picking, if you happened to stumble upon one that hadn’t been registered with local authorities.

This place was your baby, your home. Eight feet of solid concrete reinforced with steel, shored up with external struts to protect against water instability from the surrounding ocean, heavily ventilated, and thoroughly treated. Vault door, cameras everywhere, back up generators, a pantry you’ve meticulously stocked over the years. This thing was frankly massive, built to sustain an entire family comfortably, and not just a singular societal reject.

This place was built for the end of the world, and now it’s your entire world.

Most of your days are spent right here, well - okay - all of your days are spent right here. But not all of them in this exact spot. With your feet kicked up on the dashboard of your very own surveillance system. Thirty-two chest-sized CRT screens imbedded into the wall stare back at you with footage from all across the city on their static clung faces. Traffic, weather cameras, even random footage from peoples’ doorbell cameras. You weren’t invasive enough to go inside, even if the curiosity ate at you sometimes.

Your station has been meticulously equipped over the years of your stay. Some of it is as brand new as you could get, others are classics. An IBM Model M is sitting in front of you, retro old keyboard in the same dingy green-yellow-beige that the rest of the bunker is, unaided by the old fluorescents flickering above. It’s what you use to do your work - what they use to do all of your work for you. More like a marionette to their ministrations. Beside it are a DAC and amp stack for a nice pair of German headphones found on Guitar Center or Amazon, and a bougie Shure microphone you acquired by shorting people out of bidding on it on eBay. Your guilt assuaged by running a cursory background check on the seller, wife beaters don’t deserve money.

Right now, your heart is in your throat.

There was a reason you came down here. A reason you stocked and live in this place that you illegally siphoned hot water and AC and all the other good shit to, without anyone ever knowing. Because you didn’t want anyone to know.

People… the outside… It’s terrifying. And not in the- the casual shakes or the nervous rambling or even the puking kind of way.

In the way that you’d open a manhole cover and crawl down it, wait there for hours until you were starving to make sure absolutely no one is around, scrambling from tight corner to tight corner to find your den to hide inside. That level of fear.

Blood curdling terror.

Now you’re willingly going to be introducing yourself to an entire group of people. Digitally. But still.

You knew them too, sometimes New York has something interesting happen to it and you’re so far beneath the crust that you get to witness it like a fun little spectator. So when a massive chunk of the city had - they recently dubbed it - voided out, you didn’t get to experience the misery and the terror the people up top did. You watched it all happen from your wall of screens and your expensive speakers and your everything else. Insulated and safe.

You also watched the people you’re about to talk to, stop the void. Somehow. Nobody really knew. It just kinda- unvoided everyone and thing. Lucky, y’know?

Valentina had contacted you after months of relatively low interaction, mostly just sent missions where you surveilled and reported back to her team whatever movements or information you could gather from your eye deep, deep beneath the sky. And then collected the paycheck that let you buy all the nice things that currently sat around you.

Pain in the ass to get here, mind. Since you didn’t let anyone so much as see the area that leads to your home. Better safe than sorry, besides, the locally delivery guys have come to an understanding with you. The extra hundred for every delivery without inquiry helps.

Now though?

“It’s time.” Her voice, grating as ever, made worse when it sounded over the heavy speakers you had set around your home base. “You’ve coasted by on little jobs this far, but we finally have need of your assets. You’re coming out of the dark, Terminal.”

This wasn’t what you were built for, but even with all the skills at your disposal money still became a necessity after a point. Not everything you could ever want or need could be procured by scams and technobabble-savvy. Not everything came without a hit to your conscience.

Still, the laminate counter and all the peripherals you’d accumulated have been dusted and disinfected three times now, all thirty-two screens have been fussed at to no end and you’ve shocked yourself enough times that the muscle in your ring finger was beginning to respond angrily to the uninvited stimuli. The whole place hums passively, the buzz off the fluorescents had grated your last nerve over an hour ago and have been relegated to some incredibly old desk lamp you stole and repaired from an abandoned library ages ago. The room, usually bright and weirdly pear colored has now been reduced to shadow and blue and a blanket of orange. Your shape cut across the concrete floor. It makes the place feel smaller, somehow.

Admittedly, and you knew this was an incredibly morally dubious choice to make, but you were kind of… stalking them?

It was a little too easy to get inside the New Avenger’s Tower, the artificial intelligence that Valentina supplied in the wake of JARVIS and FRIDAY being disbanded was little more than a rudimentary shadow of it’s predecessors. It could lock and unlock areas, manage cameras and microphones, knew the locations of every room in it’s premises, could tell time, and weather… But that was about it. It was a glorified app hiding in the ceiling. This meant that what you thought would be a battle that could backfire and get you in hot water with Valentina slipped by so easily that you were watching your future teammates make dinner, oblivious to your existence.

And the intelligence, CASEY (Central Authority, Surveillance, something-something. Valentina had tried to tell you and it’d already been terrible before the third letter in the abbreviation) was either none the wiser or not well programmed enough to alert anyone of the extra eyes in their home.

It felt wrong, it was wrong, but your excuse to yourself as muttered into a dingy mirror in your bathroom was that it provided you with pregame knowledge and ample preparation. So you wouldn’t fuck this up, or react too badly to how they react to whatever is about to happen. It was just you doing your own reconnaissance! Don’t head into enemy territory unprepared.

Maybe you shouldn’t be thinking of them as enemies. But- oh well.

It’s t-minus thirteen to the formal introduction and conversation has been entrenched on the big reveal, the big you. Some think it’s going to be good- two, precisely. The rest are thoroughly geared toward this being a disaster because Valentina’s print is on it. Not, honestly, a bad way to gauge it. Still, it had your teeth sliding against each other in anticipation. They won’t trust you, they probably won’t like you. It’s an uphill battle from go, and the worst part is that your odds are lower than terrible with her branding all over you. Not- not literally. But still.

If she has a hand in it, they’ll think you’re just as bad as her. And that’s something you have to fight past, starting in a matter of minutes.

“Listen, she doesn’t have control over us, we can just ignore whatever the hell kind of stunt she’s trying to pull.” Crackles over speakers situated at each corner. They’re a good quality, but the microphones installed at the Tower are not, so that it almost rings every time sound pushes through.

“But do we? We have no idea what this is going to be, and no guarantee we can worm our way around it.” Distinctly from James Barnes, arguably the most easy to identify of the entire group. His arm a glowing beacon of acknowledgement for who he is and who he was.

Again. Fundamentally untrusting people. You’re walking into Siberia in a Hawaiian-dad shirt.

“She hasn’t done anything too crazy since this began, and it’s been an entire year. Maybe she knows better with all of us being the face now, you know, after attempting to set us on fire?”

In a morbid way, you wish you didn’t already know about that. It would have been a good distraction from the lead ball in your gut. But alas, O.X.E. has had you in their pocket for awhile now, and that means you’ve been panty raiding their intelligence for ages at this point. The moment you’d seen her face pop up on national television following the blackout, you’d gone on a fun little deep dive to see what she fucked up that badly.

So much. Like an embarrassing amount, really.

Another candy wrapper is discarded to the half full trash can at your side. You’ve pretzeled your legs into the recliner you use as your desk chair in perhaps the least professional display of your state anyone has ever witnessed. Only topped off when you drag a blanket off the back and burrito yourself into it.

Walking into humiliation with comfort.

The screens switch camera to camera without your added input - they handle it for you as you worry away at lifted skin around your cuticles, taking not chewing your nails as enough victory for the evening - as they pass through something like a million tons of steel, marble, granite, concrete, and two inch thick panels of tempered and laminated glass on their way to the room where your debut will be announced to them post hoc.

Good god, you’re going to be fucking sick.

Valentina is already standing there when they arrive, and even through fuzzy and less than pixel perfect resolution you can see the ripple of discontent. They didn’t realize she was already in the building, and they didn’t like the following thought.

She’s as polished and corporate as ever, every texture and color her suit and jewels were clad in most likely approved by an entire team of stylists to convey a particular image and sentiment just for this evening. Like armor of a slippery, slimy variety. They all sit as her face stretches around an interpretation of a smile, her eyes dark and flat and calculating. She’s judging how difficult the sell is about to be.

“Thank you for arriving almost on time, perhaps this time next year you won’t embarrass us in front of national press by showing up when you’re told.”

“Look if you’re just here to berate us about the quality of our answers on what ice cream is our favorite—”

“Oh, Jesus no. I know better than with any of you. No, I have something much better for all of you to get used to.”

Again, as your fingers curl in tightly enough around your pants for the material to sting against your skin, the room seems to get even more coiled without you physically being there.

“Terminal, my dear. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Fuck. Fuck.

You go to introduce yourself, realize your mic is cut, set it hot and clear your throat at once. A part of you, however small but certainly tangible and real, dies horribly. Why didn’t you clear your throat before the mic was live, dumbass?

“Well, I- I believe the introduction has just been made for me, but hello there,” this part has been rehearsed for you a thousand times. You’d written out a script and paced the entire bunker for a solid week following this day, editing, scrapping, and then rehearsing the things you wanted to say. To sound perfect, polished. Like you might not be a total mistake for Valentina to introduce.

Your voice is a little squeaky and off kilter, instead of energetic like you’d been going for. Your delivery feels as rehearsed as it is, and the tackiness developing on your ankles has you kicking the blanket you used for comfort mere moments ago away and onto the floor.

“I go by Terminal, and Miss de Fontaine - if she does not mind me saying - has brought me on board to be a-”

You can hear the quiet groan that passes from someone’s mouth, and your voice flattens unintentionally as you wish more and more that the bunker would suddenly lose all structural support and simply turn you into red mist.

“-a new member of the team. I hope that… we can get along, and I am- excited, to get started.”

Again, because the first two times weren’t good enough: Fuck.

There’s a ripple of disbelief and apparent anger, resignation, even a touch of outrage in some of their faces. Barnes seems the most ready to roll with it, his slow head bob visible from where the camera is fixated upon them. Walker immediately the most outraged by this, shouting something to the effect of how she could expect them to work with someone without their approval or - even knowledge that this was going to happen.

“Who the hell is this guy? And why don’t we get a say in it-?”

“There’s no way you’re going to just- forcibly slot some random person in and expect us to be okay with it-”

“Oh, please, more members are good for team! Means we get stronger and more official looking, eh?”

Their objections and affirmations blend into noise, and your head hits the back of your recliner hard. And then a few more times, for good measure. It was honestly just more frustrating, for once damning the cushion for not letting you get a satisfying thunk out of the abuses you wished to laud against your own skull.

Then, across the table and cutting everyone off:

“What can you do?”

It’s the one that nearly destroyed Manhattan, you realize after a stunned pause. He’s sitting there somewhat folded in his seat, his elbows on his knees as he stares in a random direction. Like he’s aware of your presence but maybe a little too oblivious to notice he should be staring at the camera that just moved to point directly at him.

He doesn’t seem particularly invested, one way or the other. Instead, just… curious maybe? There’s a sort of innocence in it, like he’s more fascinated by whatever specialty you’ve been given than the fact that Valentina is trying to throw off all the team dynamics because she can.

It’s also not a question you were particularly ready for, given that you thought Valentina would use that opportunity for further pitching you to your new team.

“Well…” you start after a pause that goes on too long. “I am- I am one of the foremost black hats in the country, cracking code is sort of my thing. I’m- Miss de Fontaine wishes for me to become the brain for your operation, handling the technological side of your missions so that you can focus on the physical parts.”

“Is that why you’re not here, then? Keeping your identity concealed?”

“Oh God no! No… I just- I work best from where I am right now.” And nowhere, nowhere else.

Bucky seemed to right himself then, more of his face becoming visible within the eye of the camera you’d hijacked some time ago. He still doesn’t look particularly happy with what is occurring here, and yet unlike the others - there’s some level of acceptance.

“There’s a reason you’re doing this, Valentina. We haven’t needed a tech up until this point, what’s going on?”

The wobble of her expression is visible, even here. “Can I not just bring in more hands for the New Avengers? Does there need to be a reason?”

“Yes.”

And just like that, the polish erodes and something annoyed and acidic and acrid crosses her face. The posture never leaves, but her hands move in a way that’s far less diplomatic and vastly sharper. Little stabs and slices that indicate the deep set dislike she holds toward the man who has called her on her shit.

“Fine. There’s a situation. Look- O.X.E. has reason to believe that someone is looking to replicate what was done with Robert. They’re sifting through old files, poking about in shut down facilities. I’m not concerned that they’ll find anything on account of the fact that we got rid of the evidence, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop.

We’ve grabbed what intel we could, and beyond a few dozen mercenaries with almost as many murders under their individual belts as our favorite Widow here. They’ve also begun to collude with the likes of Mikhail Doyenko and Aantu Haikali.”

Manila folders are thrown by Valentina into the center of the conference table they’d clustered around, and after a moment of heavy pause, each member of the New Avengers reaches forward to grab their copy of the report. It’s thick, filled with a few dozen pages of information on the named individuals as well as the organization they’d fallen in with.

Enmis.

Their known goals are listed, what little scraps were found from each abandoned base O.X.E. has raided, too late to get them while they were still escaping. They were slippery, skilled, and growing vastly more dangerous by the day. You knew because you’d read the same thing they were, days ago.

“I recognize the name, Doyenko.” Belova is the one speaking, the Widow with the pale hair and the eyes too clear. The one who had charged headfirst into pitch darkness and managed to save the world in the process. “He’s a trafficker, isn’t he?”

“Precisely, but worse than your regular. He specializes in the enhanced, whether that’s serum or something else.”

“Which means he’s got the experience and the equipment to handle a group of super soldiers.” Comes Barnes’ following reply, voice steady as he follows what Valentina has provided on a candy trail.

“I mean, c’mon! How good could they be, just some random souped up idiots this guy snatched off the street to sell? We’re actual soldiers, we have combat experience!”

“And we are team, they most likely run alone, no? Not prepared to be overwhelmed by the mighty Avengers!”

You were glad to be irrelevant in the conversation again, your little tatters of self esteem were still smoldering after being so thoroughly dashed on your lack of communication skills. The most successful exchange you’d had today was one of the members of the team asking you what you even do to warrant being on the team, though you suspected that maybe that was a more harsh reading of his question than he’d meant.

Robert Reynolds, Bob. The Sentry, or The Void. Supposedly the very strongest on that entire team, but in a sort of arrested development situation. From what you’d gleaned off your own eavesdropping and the information Valentina offered you to try and use to your advantage, Bob - as he preferred to be addressed - had not initially been an active member of the team following the void out on Manhattan. It was only as he grew more listless from being left at base constantly, combined with the burgeoning realization that just because he wasn’t using his more extracurricular power hadn’t negated the part where he’s bullet-proof that they decided to put him on the roster.

Bit of a disaster, at first. Some reports about near void-outs, some things being destroyed that were meant to be preserved. Lots of communication issues. Just the whole gamut of throwing a random- random guy into the middle of active combat. Even training looked to be a bit of a doozy, if the recordings you’d plucked were anything to go by.

It wasn’t that Bob didn’t try, he tried very hard- and what he picked up on he seemed to learn reasonably fast. But the issue came in the fact that- a lot of sparring tended to involve one side losing in order to learn from their mistakes.

Bob can’t… exactly lose. Hard to get the physical element of training by failure when kicking him in the head as hard as you can might actually break your ankle before it bruises his head. So instead of learning instinctively through the pain and the mistakes that cost, Bob has to go about it the long and conscious way. Deliberately taking in the lessons he needs instead of it just becoming imprinted on his dislocated shoulders and broken collarbones.

In spite of this, he sees rather regular combat in the modern day. He’s less of an aggressive force and more of their bulwark. A big living meat shield, bulldozing clean through walls and tearing reinforced doors off their hinges to make progression almost frighteningly convenient. All the while he served as a happy lookout while they took on all the action. He was quite content with this arrangement, it seemed.

He definitely looks different from the initial photos the press released, back when no one knew who the hell this guy was and yet he’d been cloistered into the center of the group of heroes you see now. He’s gained weight and his hair is - well, not short. But certainly shorter than it had been. Curling wildly in these thick ringlets that caress his ears and neck, dangling down in front of his face where he habitually pushes them aside as he speaks, offering timid bits of opinion and potential advice that his team receives with a surprising level of openness. It looks healthy, he looks healthy. More flushed and alert than he had been when those reporters descended like hawks to snap every picture they could get.

“Haikali is the bigger problem,” Valentina cuts into the discussion as it turns about. Drafting up early ideas of how to circumvent Enmises silver bullet for seemingly half of the entire team. “Doyenko might be a problem in combat, but Haikali worked on Riptide back during the blip. The man is a genius and a certified lunatic, if anyone would come into approximation of what we did here with Robert, it would be him. Issue being, it would be a far uglier and more botched serum, and he wouldn’t care. They don’t need to survive long, they just need to get the job done.”

And that was the crux of it, now wasn’t it? Bombs didn’t last beyond one use, they just needed to take everything else out with it.

It sets a sort of unsteadiness throughout the group, even you who sits with your knees to your chest and your chin propped as you parse through the cadence of everyone you are now expected to get to know.

“Terminal, it’s your turn to take it from here. Whatever they need, you get it. Got it?”

“Y-Yes, de Fontaine.” Your eyes squeeze tightly as you response, desperately believing that you don’t sound pathetic as you address her.

“Well, with that in mind. All of you play nice with each other! I have six interviews this week to try and deal with yet another one of your messes.” Valentina had abandoned any false pretenses of amicability, and her clicking heels manage to reach the microphone as she heads for the door.

“We’ll get you more information when they become active again, in the meantime. Do something that seems at least a little heroic, hm?”

When the door closes, you’re left with the crackle of your speakers and the deafening silence of their rigidity. They’re about as happy as you expected them to be, which is absolutely none at all.

This was going to be torture of the worst kind.

#bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #the sentry #the void #robert reynolds #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #mcu #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #robert reynolds x you #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob x reader

121 notes · View notes

runawrites-blog · 10 months ago

Text

Where The Fuck Did She Learn That? (Deadpool x Reader)

Summary: After accidentally teaching his daughter a swear word, Wade tries to teach her other words before you come home. You still end up finding out. (Female Reader) Word Count: 1,850 Warnings: Swearing. Kid-Fic. Wade is a Girl Dad. Minor Arguing. No Y/N. No Deadpool and Wolverine Spoilers. A/N: The child character is named Bea (nickname Bee) after Bea Arthur from Golden Girls because, in the flashback scene from Deadpool, we see Wade wearing a shirt with her likeness on it. Also, someone asked me to tag them in my other Deadpool fics but I am not sure if that means ALL Deadpool fics I write or just series, so I didn't tag them. I am new to people wanting to be tagged in my writing, so please if you want to be tagged clarify what you want to be tagged in so I (a dumbass) can understand it. Sorry ^^ Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58276927

---

“There she is!”

Wade smiled softly when his one-year-old daughter babbled happily as he picked her up from her playmat on the ground, hoisting her up over his head and making her giggle excitedly. He grinned back at her as he bounced her a few times before settling her on his hip, nodding along to her mostly nonsensical babbles. You’d told him that after around twelve months you two could expect her first words and he was now eagerly waiting for it every day.

He would ever admit that to you because he knew you’d tease him relentlessly about it and as any of his readers knew you were only allowed to do that in bed. But as to not do you injustice, he had to admit that most of the time you weren’t teasing him about how he interacted with his daughter, that most of the time you thought it was absolutely endearing.

“Did you have fun stuffing shapes in boxes? Bet that was absolutely riveting!”

The excited way in which he always spoke to her never failed to make her gurgle excitedly, bouncing in his grasp as her little hands reached up to pat all over his face. Wade just chuckled at her excitement, leaning over to examine the toys on the ground, pretending to be deep in thought.

“So help me out here, the star-shaped block goes into the star-shaped hole right? And the triangle one into the triangle-shaped hole?” He mused, crouching down and pointing at the corresponding shapes and nodding along to his daughter’s babbles. “Got it. Thanks, Bee.”

It was a nickname you two had used for the baby ever since your pregnancy because she had always moved around a lot, making you two call her a busy bee. And when your daughter had been born you two had decided on a fitting name but since you had so adamantly fought Wade on how you couldn’t call a baby Bee and he had not really wanted to argue with you after you’d just given birth, he’d agreed. And like that, you two had decided on the name Bea, only for you to later find out Wade had suggested it because he just loved ‘Golden Girls’.

“How about we get you a snack?” Wade asked in a soft voice, bouncing Bea on his hip as he made his way to the kitchen. “I could try apple bunnies like Mommy makes them but don’t get upset when they come out looking like apple roadkill instead! Deal?”

He had out his pinky at Bea and she reached for it, grabbing it with her whole hand and shaking it around a little. Wade just shrugged at that.

“Close enough!”

Sitting her down in her highchair, Wade started cutting up some apples for Bea, humming along in agreement to whatever she was babbling about behind him. None of her words were distinguishable as of yet but she loved babbling to herself. You’d once said that she truly was Wade’s child because he could never keep his mouth shut, either. When he’d called you fucking rude for it you had almost tackled him with how fast you’d tried to cover his mouth, chiding him for using foul language around Bea. His joke about how you could always gag him had only made you roll your eyes.

“Almost done, Bee. Just keep telling your story. Daddy’s listening.”

As he readied his knife to try and cut into the apple twice, so the two cut-in areas could be lifted to simulate ears, he slipped up and sliced right into his thumb. Dropping the knife onto the counter he shook his hand a little.

“Fuck!”

Cut thumb and apple forgotten, Wade felt his blood run cold and he froze in his spot before slowly turning his head to see whether or not he had heard that right. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Bea giggling happily, clapping her tiny hands as she repeated the word over and over again.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He was dead. You were going to come back and find out that your child’s first word was a swear word and that it was his fault, on top of that. Then you were going to tear him a new one and not in a way he would like you to. Panicking he rushed over to the highchair, crouching down in front of it and shaking his head.

“No, no, Bee. You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“Fuck!”

“No!” Wade exclaimed in desperation as his daughter giggled on and repeated the word. “Can you be a sweetheart for Daddy and stop saying that? Please?”

It was dumb to try and reason with a baby, he knew that. None of his readers would have to remind him of that but in his desperate state of mind, it was the only thing he thought of trying. But it didn’t help. Bea was repeating the word still and Wade stood up in frustration, burying his face in his hands.

As he imagined how you would react, how you would make him sleep on the couch for months he realised the worst thing was that would would likely get upset about this. So he quickly thought of an idea. He had to make Bea forget the swear word and try to get her to say something else.

So quickly, he picked her up again, holding her close as he sat her down on his hip and went around the kitchen, pointing out random objects only to get the swear word as a reply again. Then he moved on into the living room to try doing the same there.

“Flower.”

“Fuck.”

“Table.”

“Fuck.”

“Couch.”

“Fuck.”

This went on for some time until eventually Wade went into Bea’s bedroom and walked around, once more pointing out random objects until they reached her crib and the mobile hanging over it. Bea reached out for the little aquatic creatures hanging from it and Wade got an idea -- a word that was as short as the swear word and also started with the same letter. Gentle, he stopped the mobile and grabbed a small blue fish between both his fingers.

“Fish.”

“Fish!”

“Yes, Fish! Good girl, Bee!” Wade said and nodded, beaming as his daughter repeated the word a few more times. “Fish. That’s a fish.”

The front door opening made him turn and freeze. He hoped his plan had worked as he walked out into the living room where you quickly spotted him and came over, cooing at the girl in his arms before taking her into yours. You bounced her around a bit as you leaned in to kiss Wade before looking back at Bea.

“Did you have fun with Daddy, Bee?”

“Fish!”

Your mouth fell open and a smile overtook your features as you stared at your daughter in disbelief. Then you looked up at Wade in absolute delight, bouncing Bea around on your hip as the girl giggled happily.

“She said her first word? That’s amazing! And it’s so funny that it’s fish.”

“I guess it’s because of her mobile.” Wade shrugged and then leaned forward to kiss Bea on the head as he continued lying to you. “She’s been going on about it all afternoon.”

“It’s just sad that I wasn’t there to hear it.” Your smile faltered just a bit but then your face lit up again. “Maybe I can see it on the baby monitor.”

Wade felt his blood run cold for a second before he realised why that wouldn’t be possible. “She said it in the kitchen. The baby monitor is in the bedroom, so I guess you won’t be able to see it. Sorry, Honey.”

Once more your face fell but it quickly lit up once again when Bea kept babbling on about fish and you looked up to smile at Wade, seemingly having decided that it didn’t matter because it was a wonderful thing nonetheless. Wade was about to embrace you and Bea when you piped up again, a big smile on your face.

“Wait a second. The baby monitor has two devices and both of them have cameras, so you can use them back and forth.” You mused, snapping your fingers and making Wade freeze as he realised where the other device was. “I left the other one in the kitchen yesterday!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and now I can see our daughter speak her first word for the first time, too!”

Before Wade could come up with a lie you were on your way to the kitchen, Bea in your arms. Once there you sat down the footage of the empty kitchen until Wade saw the video of him putting Bea down in her highchair. His hands clamped down on the back of your chair as you started playing the footage, turning back to smile at him and tease him quietly about how sweet he was for always talking to Bea. But he wasn’t really listening, eyes trained on the monitor.

“Fuck!”

Wade felt himself freeze as you turned around in your chair, a deep scowl on your face as you looked up at him. “That was our daughter first word? And she said it because of you?”

“I am so sorry, Honeybun. My sweet pookie-bear, I swear it was not on purpose. I cut myself and it was out of reflex. Please, don’t kick me out!”

“Give me a second.”

You stood from your chair and walked into the living room to place Bea down on her playmat where she began playing with her shapes and blocks again. Wade followed you, head turned down as he waited for you to go off on him. As you marched over and guided him into the hallway, just far enough to be out of earshot but close enough to keep an eye on your daughter, he knew he was in for it.

“Bad enough that you teach her to swear, but you also lie to me about it!” You snapped quietly, probably not wanting to raise your voice and scare Bear. “I can’t believe you!”

Wade raised his hands in defeat. “It’s totally my fault, I know. But you gotta admit that I at least got her to quickly forget it. Now she’s just saying ‘fish’, so that’s good!”

“Yeah, I guess that’s good.” You sighed and shook your head, putting your hand on your hips. “At least you fixed this.”

“So really, if anything you should be thankful!”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilson!”

”Fuck!”

Wade burst out laughing as you turned in horror, finding Bea on the floor, repeating the word over and over again. He watched in amusement as you hurried over and tried to redirect her to saying ‘fish’ again but it was of no use because now that Bea had been reminded of the word she was not going to stop saying it. Wade grinned to himself as he approached you, leaning in close to whisper in your ear so Bea wouldn’t hear him.

“Where the fuck did she learn that?”

#my writing #fanfiction #writing #mcu #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #deadpool #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson #no y/n #kid fic

361 notes · View notes

liliesonthego · 4 days ago

Text

Bandaid Kisses

Summary: You accidentally punch Baku in a fight, but offer him compensation.

Pairing: Park Humin (Baku) X reader, ex-friend Seongje x reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst

Word count: 2.8k

Authors note: I lowkey want to do a part 2 showing Seongje and readers past friendship. Also this is not proofread so sorry if there's mistakes :D

—

Your heart was pumping harder than it ever had before. You could feel your pulse engulf your body with every pounding step you took. The sharp wind nipped at your face as you ran fast to the rooftop. You were thanking the heavens that you had asked Juntae for his location after you had found him and the others in shambles after their fight with Hyoman.

"Juntae, I told you I'll always be there for you. I’ll always fight for you. Don't hesitate to text me, okay?"

You'd been best friends since you were young. You were both enrolled in the same summer camp, and you had saved him from being beaten by a group of young bullies. Since then, no one dared mess with him.

It was harder to protect and stand up for him once you guys reached high school. He had gone to Eunjang, and you to Kanghak High School. You had been trying to teach him to stand up more for himself, and with an extra push from his newest friend Sieun, he had finally fought back against his bullies. But now he and his new group had gotten into more trouble than they had hoped for.

You had met the rest of them when they were volunteering, deciding to tag along with Juntae. You had slipped in easily to the group, your dynamic complementing them nicely. Baku and Gotak were impressed with your boxing experience and easygoing attitude. Sieun admired you for sticking up for your friend. You were glad Juntae had good people around him now. You had no problem drawing blood for them.

You finally reached the stairwell that led up to the roof, and with one last gasp of air, you climbed until you reached the door. As you pushed it open, your eyes immediately darted to Juntae. He was being held by the collar of his shirt by a kid that goes to your school—one of Seongje’s cronies, no doubt.

"PLEASE STOP!" he pleaded.

All their eyes darted to you, your own blazing with a red-hot fury at the scene in front of you.

"Oh, fuck this." The boy from your school shoved Juntae into the fence beside them roughly.

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up, rage propelling you forward. Without a word, your fist connected with his jaw in one clean, brutal punch.

He dropped to the floor, hand holding his nose, blood flowing easily from it.

"I hope that'll make you think twice next time," you snapped, voice low and shaking with fury. “Touch him again, and you’ll lose teeth.”

Behind you, Gotak lunged for Seongje, determined to land one more punch. Seongje easily overpowered him and threw him next to Juntae on the fence. With a deep sigh, he turned to you, a sarcastic smile appearing on his face.

"I didn't know we'd be seeing each other today. You look pretty, did you dye your hair?"

You rolled your eyes at his nonchalant attitude. "Some people really never change, huh," you mumbled. "Leave my friends alone, got it? I won't ask again, so just listen."

He studied your face for a moment, hands dipping into his pockets. "You should join the Union. The offer is still on the table, you know. We could do great things together." He took a step toward you, his face uncharacteristically serious now. "We used to be friends, after all, hmm?"

"Yeah, until I realized you were a lost cause," you spat at him. "You took advantage of my kindness. I won't make that mistake again, and I would never join your little gang of idiots."

He chuckled lowly. "Well, how do you say we should settle this then? You know I don't like hitting girls."

"What a gentleman. Let me do all the hitting then."

You didn’t wait for a response.

With a sharp inhale, you launched forward, fist flying toward his face.

He dodged with ease.

Another swing—he tilted back.

A kick to his ribs—he sidestepped smoothly, annoyingly calm. Like this was nothing.

"You always did have a temper," he said, ducking a punch aimed straight for his jaw.

“Shut up,” you growled, managing to land a sharp hit to his shoulder that actually made him stumble back a step. The satisfaction was short-lived. He straightened up, rolling his arm, smile fading just slightly.

Then you landed a second punch, this time to his cheekbone. His head snapped slightly to the side, and for a moment, he just stood there. Silent.

You took another breath, ready to keep going but this time, he moved faster.

Too fast.

Before you could register what was happening, he caught your wrist mid-swing and twisted it behind your back as he held you firmly against his chest.

You thrashed against him, teeth clenched in fury.

“Still so dramatic,” he murmured, breathing only slightly uneven, his lips beside your ear. “I didn’t lay a finger on you. You threw every punch.”

As you were mustering up the strength to escape his grasp, the door to the roof opened and Sieun stepped out, eyes focused and sharp.

"Aishh," Seongje exhaled behind you. "It's always something."

He threw you to the side and you landed hard against the floor.

"Hold her," Seongje ordered his two minions.

Before you could get up, you felt two sets of hands grip your arms tightly. You struggled to escape, but their hold was firm. In front of you, Sieun and Seongje began to fight, brutal and bloody. Punch after punch after punch. You felt helpless.

Seongje was clearly winning. Sieun must have known how it would end. You were really beginning to lose all hope when suddenly, Sieun grabbed his glasses, ripped off the side, and plunged it into Seongje’s foot. Seongje screamed, his voice tearing through the air.

You felt the arms holding you loosen slightly in surprise. This was your chance.

With a sharp twist and a surge of adrenaline, you yanked one arm free and slammed your elbow back into the stomach of the guy on your right. He grunted and stumbled, and with that tiny opening, you spun and kicked the other one square in the knee. He buckled with a yell.

You didn’t stop.

The first one lunged again, but you ducked and drove your fist straight into his ribs. He keeled forward, and you grabbed him by the collar and kneed him in the face. Blood spattered your shirt, but you barely registered it.

The second guy came at you swinging, sloppily.

You dodged left, then right, and you punched him—

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He fell to the floor with a thud.

Again and again, your fists hit his face, raw knuckles colliding with skin and bone. Everything, your fear, your rage, your helplessness, spilled into every blow. You didn’t even know if he was still conscious. You didn’t care.

“Hey—hey!” a voice shouted, firm and familiar.

Hands wrapped around your waist, trying to pull you back.

You spun around wildly and punched the person behind you straight across the face.

There was a stunned silence.

Then—

“Ow!” Baku muttered, holding his cheek, blinking in shock.

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god—Baku—”

He just raised one hand to stop your rambling, still rubbing his cheek. “It’s fine. Honestly, I should’ve seen that coming.”

You stared at him, breathless, trembling, blood on your fists. “I thought you were—”

He stepped closer, his voice gentler now. “I know. It’s okay.”

You glanced behind him, seeing Sieun passed out on the ground, Juntae and Gotak kneeling beside him, but their eyes were focused on you and Baku.

"Is he okay?" you asked Baku, eyes wide in worry.

"He will be, but we should get him out of here."

You nodded, heart still pounding in your chest. The blood on your hands felt hot and sticky, a harsh contrast to the chill in the evening air.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said immediately, already moving toward Sieun.

—

The four of you had successfully removed Sieun from the rooftop and brought him to Juntae’s hideout at Eunjang. You had cleaned his wounds, and now he lay silently on the floor, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. Gotak and Juntae had left to grab some ramen for you all, leaving you and Baku alone.

You gently covered Sieun’s body with a blanket and turned to face Baku, who was sitting silently against the wall opposite you, lost in thought.

Your eyes focused on the gash just below his eye, dried blood already crusted over. Guilt simmered low in your stomach, and you silently grabbed the first aid kit, crossing the room to settle on your knees in front of him.

Your finger gently moved a piece of hair from in front of his eyes, which shook him out of his daze.

He blinked, eyes refocusing on you as if seeing you clearly for the first time. “What…?”

“You were zoning out,” you said softly, hand now hovering uncertainly between you. “You okay?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just stared at you. Like your touch had pulled him from somewhere far away.

Then, almost reluctantly, he nodded. “Yeah. I just… didn’t expect you to do that.”

You smiled and wordlessly took a cotton swab and moved to clean the cut you gave him.

"You don't have to," he muttered lowly.

Your hand hesitated in the space between you two.

"I know, but I'll feel guilty regardless, even if you said it's okay. So please just let me."

His eyes softened and he nodded.

You dabbed gently at the cut, the cotton swab stained red as you worked in silence. He didn’t even flinch, just sat still, eyes locked on your face. You could feel the weight of his gaze, but you didn’t look up. You could feel your heartbeat quicken.

Then his eyes drifted lower to your other hand, the one still resting on your lap, bruised and swollen from earlier. His fingers moved slowly, gently brushing over your knuckles, as if afraid to hurt you. You froze.

“They look worse than mine,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

You finally looked at him. His eyes weren’t teasing or amused like they usually were.

“I’ve had worse,” you said, though your voice came out quieter than intended.

He didn’t move his hand away.

After a moment, he spoke again. “You and Seongje… were you close?”

You blinked, startled by the question. “What?”

“Gotak told me,” he explained. “Said you used to be friends.”

You sat back slightly, confusion and a touch of discomfort settling on your face. “Yeah… we were. A long time ago.”

His hand dropped back to his lap, but he was still watching you carefully, waiting.

You sighed, still dabbing softly at the cut. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. Back then, he was just some loud kid with too much energy. We’d hang out after school, talk about dumb stuff. He was my friend.”

There was a heaviness in your voice now, and you paused before continuing.

“But then he started getting involved with the wrong people. Union. They recruited him. He said they respected him more than anyone else ever had. I told him it was dangerous. That the things he would have to do would be unforgivable.”

“And he didn’t listen,” Baku guessed.

You nodded, staring at the floor. “No. He said I was jealous. That I wanted to control him. So I walked away.”

Baku was quiet for a long time. Then, he said softly, “That must’ve been hard.”

You shrugged, trying to brush it off, but the way your fingers curled slightly over your bruised knuckles betrayed you.

“I kept thinking maybe he’d come around. That he’d wake up one day and realize how far gone he was. But he just kept sinking deeper into it. And the more I tried to pull him out, the more he pushed me away.” You unwrapped a bandaid and softly pressed it over his cut. You then sat back next to him against the wall. The soft orange light of the room bathed over you two.

Baku nodded slowly, his eyes still on your face. “So when you saw him on the rooftop…”

“It wasn’t just about him hurting Juntae,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It was everything. The years of trying, the silence after, the way he looked at me like I was nothing. Like I’d never mattered.” You gulped deeply, swallowing the years of pent-up anger. “Some people really are just helpless cases.” You hung your head low.

The room settled into a comfortable silence, the two of you deep in thought. You slowly raised your head and rested it on your pulled-up knees, head turned to look at Baku.

"What's on your mind?" you softly whispered.

You waited as he gathered his thoughts. He exhaled and tilted his head back to rest against the wall. You could see his hand tightly clenched by his side.

"I'm sorry."

You chuckled. "Hey idiot, I punched you. Why are you apologizing?"

He turned to see your smile, and you raised your eyebrows at him in question.

He hesitated. "I'll make sure what happened today never happens again. So don't worry."

"Ah, so that's what you meant," you said quietly. He had blamed himself for what happened. It was no secret that the Union wanted him, desperately. Eunjang was the only school in their area that wasn't a part of the gang. And Baku wasn't any ordinary student. With him, they'd be almost unstoppable.

"Look," you started. "If you're gonna try and blame yourself for what happened, stop. It's not your fault that people are assholes, okay? What's the other option anyway? You join them and help them bully helpless people? You really are an idiot..." you trailed off.

Baku looked at you in surprise. For a second, he seemed like he wanted to argue, like he had something to prove, but the words never came. Instead, he just stared at you, his jaw tightening slightly before softening again.

“You really think I’m an idiot?” he asked, but there was a faint curve to his lips now, the smallest trace of a smile.

You rolled your eyes, but your voice stayed gentle. “If you keep blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault, then yeah. A big one.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he looked away, the tension in his shoulders finally easing a little.

You leaned back beside him, your arms brushing as you sat in silence for a moment.

“I know what kind of person you are, Baku,” you added quietly. “You fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. That’s not something to be ashamed of. That’s something to be proud of.”

He looked at you again, really looked this time, and for a moment, there was nothing else. Just the quiet space between you.

"You know..." he hesitated. You turned your head to look at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "You know... my cheek really hurts. You punched me too hard," he said with a pout.

You smirked. “Oh, you want another one? I can balance it out.”

He laughed, leaning slightly away as if to shield himself. “No thanks. I’m not trying to lose both sides of my face.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a shove, and he let himself fall back dramatically with a groan. “Seriously, I’m impressed,” he said, sitting back up and grinning. “I’m never making you angry. Lesson learned.”

“Good,” you said smugly.

“But,” he added, tilting his head with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “I do think I deserve some sort of compensation.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Compensation, huh?”

He nodded solemnly. “A fair price. You marked my gorgeous face.”

You pretended to think for a moment, then leaned in slightly, your eyes flickering to the small bandage just beneath his eye. Without saying anything, you pressed a soft, careful kiss to it.

When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, lips parted slightly like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“There,” you said, voice soft and teasing. “Does it feel better now?”

He stared at you, still frozen. Then he started stuttering. “I—uh—yeah. I mean. It—uh—it definitely helped—”

Right then, the door swung open.

“WE GOT FOOD!” Gotak shouted, holding up two bags like a prize.

Juntae followed behind, peeking over his shoulder. “Did we interrupt something?”

Baku practically jolted upright, clearing his throat and scooting an inch away from you without thinking. “No! Nope. Not at all. Just… talking.”

Gotak squinted at him. “Why’s your face red?”

“It’s not!” Baku snapped a little too quickly.

You just grinned, already reaching for one of the bags. “You guys took forever.”

Juntae glanced between the two of you, eyebrows raised knowingly. “We can go back out if you need more time.”

“Juntae,” Baku warned, voice strained.

But you just laughed, your smile lingering even as you opened the food. “Relax, Romeo. Your compensation’s been paid in full.”

And Baku, still blinking and red-faced, couldn’t argue with that

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class two #yeon sieun #weak hero class fanfiction #park humin #park humin x reader #baku #baku x reader #geum seongje #seongje x reader #weak hero class #gotak #seo juntae

107 notes · View notes

muqingslover · 4 months ago

Text

[ Caleb canonically doing MC's laundry has set something off in my brain so here I am. Also, happy Valentine's day ! here's a longer one as a treat from me ;) I've been posting kinda of non-stop haha ] if you saw me post this before no you didn't

This has happened before. In fact, it had happened a few too many times for his sanity's sake. Whenever Caleb offered to do your laundry to be helpful he always had to deal with the strain in his pants that he pretended wasn't there by covering his lap with a magazine and thinking about literally anything else besides that tantalizing piece of fabric. He's been a good man, or at least he's always tried to be one for you. But was it really his fault if the situation was presented to him with a quite literally adorable little red bow?

Still, he has an admiring amount of self-restraint and for days he told himself he should give them back to you. Every time you two met he kept waiting for the moment to return it, clutching the fabric in his pocket, but all he received were reasons not to. Or perhaps, he just saw what he wanted to see. That's how a week turned into months and then the tortuous years without contact that drove him to the brink of insanity. Fighting back the urge to find you again and do everything his mind has fantasized about countless times was one of the hardest battles he ever faced, and that was saying something.

"Fuck..." He exhaled shakily. His head hit the wall behind him and he spread his legs further on the chair of his private quarters, keeping a firm hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It started after he found the old pair of panties that he had so carefully stored away and now all his mind had to offer were twisted fantasies. Caleb was in biiig trouble— He had to leave in less than fifteen minutes for a meeting and there were security officers constantly passing by his door, but he was past the stage that a simple cold shower and mental math equations would make the issue go away. The images of how the fabric would've adorned your curves in all the right places were soon followed by the memories of how sometimes he'd get a sneak peek when you bent over in front of him and gods that was the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

His metallic hand clutched the delicate fabric tighter as he trapped the lace between his teeth to force down another low groan when his palm began moving up and down again and the faint smell of your soap made his mind feel fuzzy. He was so sensitive that it ached to be touched— He was sure if this was your hand he'd have come on the spot the second your fingers brushed against him. Hell, if you breathed a bit too closely to his cock he'd fall apart like the pathetic man he is and he can only picture how your beautiful face would look covered with his cum. Can you blame him though? He's never even considered doing this with anyone else, nor will he ever do that, and his busy military life didn't leave much space for his own...moments.

He released the lace from his teeth and pressed the red fabric against his swollen tip, accidentally letting out a strained moan that was a bit too loud as his eyes rolled back into his head. He decided to quickly shut himself up by pushing his dog tag into his mouth to bite down on the metal, otherwise everyone outside his room would know just what the colonel was doing. Caleb imagined that the wet line his precum had made was because of your arousal for him instead. The way it would seep through the thin fabric and mark your pussy for him in such a filthy way. The way he'd lick along the damp spot and enjoy each and every sound that he'd surely drag out of your throat while he had your thighs around his head.

His hips jerked as he thrusted himself into his hand, into your panties, into you. The room filled with his barely contained ragged breathing as he hoped your pussy would be as much of a slippery mess as his cock was right now when he pushed past your slit, stretching you open so good yet so agonizingly slow. His grasp around his length was tight when the friction of the thin fabric against his dripping cock sent him over the edge and he came so hard his body twitched non-stop. His dog tag slipped from his lips, dangling around his neck again as he slumped back against the chair after his strength left his body momentarily.

His eyes landed on the red panties that were now coated in his thick, white cum and Caleb raised his hand to bring the messy cloth to his lips. He pushed his tongue out and licked along right at the middle where your soaked cunt would be, tasting his own release and wishing it was yours. It was a shame he had gotten such a pretty and precious thing dirty but, not to worry, he's always been good at cleaning up.

#tumblr issues #sighhhh #anyway enjoy #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #lads smut #lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb smut #lads x reader #lads

297 notes · View notes

marsbutterfly · 6 months ago

Note

MECHANIC BADDIE HANJI WHO FIXES UP READERS CAR. SHES ALL LIKE I CAN TAKE CARE OF IT DARLING. YOU JUST SIT THERE AND LOOK PRETTY. (IDK SHIT ABOUT CARS) JUST NEED AN ACTS OF SERVICE HANJI

I'll Fix It All

a/n: omg happy new year!! this turned out way longer than I originally intended for it to be. i was hoping to post it before the year turned but i'll also accept the first day of the year lol. enjoy.

warnings: fem!reader (she/her), nb! hanji zoe (they/them), modern au, anxiety, panic attacks, kissing, fluff, comfort. also like, i don't know much about cars or car repair so pls bear with me. tagging: @wizzy21 wc: 2.5k | wattpad! | ao3!

"No, no, no, no, NO!" You cry out as your car slowly begins to lose speed. This isn't the first time this week, nor the second, nor the third. You couldn't even count on one hand the amount of times the engine had been making that weird noise and the light had been blinking at you like a malevolent eye.

But you thought you could put it off, that you could easily ignore it, and that it would fix itself like it had many times before. Maybe you just needed to check the coolant or add some more water to the radiator, except you continuously forgot to do so. And it finally came back to bite you in the ass.

As the smoke comes out of the hood, you grip the steering wheel tightly, a loud grunt escaping your lips as your forehead presses against the horn, the loud noise filling the air all around you. Still, you are lucky enough to be in a somewhat empty area so the least amount of people will be disturbed.

Your first instinct is to panic. You can feel the blood rushing through your body, your face getting warmer as a few tears begin to prickle in your eyes. You let out a shaky exhale, cursing yourself for allowing this situation to happen in the first place. Before you can even begin to cry, you feel your phone vibrating in the cup holder next to you, the caller's name showing up on the screen attached to the dashboard. ⠀��⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‎‎‎"Sunshine ☼"

With a sniffle, you wipe the tears before they even have the chance to roll down your cheeks and pick up your phone, pressing the green button on the screen as you try your best to sound like you are composed and not entirely freaking out at the moment.

"Hello, my most beloved," you say, trying your best to sound like your playful self. Though it has no sound, you can almost hear the smile dropping off Hanji's face. It was not out of the ordinary for them to quickly pick up on the slightest change in your tone of voice.

"What happened?" They ask without missing a beat, the tone of their voice filled with love and concern, almost as if they were already expecting you to be in some sort of distress. "I was doing the dishes and accidentally broke a glass because I got such a bad feeling that my hand started shaking."

You sniffle but a small giggle exits your chest, the idea that the two of you are so intertwined that they can even sense when you are in some sort of distress, "Yeah, I'm fine… My car just finally gave out on me and I'm in the middle of a random neighborhood because I decided today, out of all days, to take a random shortcut!"

"Send me your location, and I'll get my tools and meet you over there," they say and you can already hear them moving around on the other end of the line. You wish you could protest but, the more you look at your car, the more panic fills your body. So you simply let out a quiet "okay" before hanging up.

Though your hands nervously shake, you can open your text messages and send Hanji a pin of your exact location. It isn't too far from your house, maybe five minutes if you speed up, and that knowledge only adds more fuel to your frustration. "Why now? I could have easily pulled into my driveway before you gave out!" You can't help the angry grunt that leaves your throat as you slam your hand against the steering wheel.

The waiting time seems like an eternity, an eerie feeling in the back of your mind like you are being watched. Your eyes dart to your phone, half convinced that maybe you should just call a toll truck when you see the headlights of Hanji's motorcycle as they speed down the road.

The light from the post shines above them and you can barely distinguish if they are an angel or a real person. As soon as their bike is parked behind your car, you exit the vehicle, running towards their embrace.

Their hair is still messy from having a helmet on and they hold a small toolbox with their left hand, but that does not stop them from hugging you as tightly as they possibly can. Their lips press against your head as the two of you remain like that for a while.

"Shhh, it's ok, my love," you can feel the smile in their voice, a gentleness like nothing you have ever experienced before, "Hanji is here to fix your problems."

"I truly appreciate you coming this fast," you whisper against their chest, "I genuinely thought my car would be able to handle the journey today but… I guess I was wrong."

"Did you have any trouble starting it this morning?" They pull back, their arm still wrapped around your frame. You think for a second, having trouble focusing on anything other than this panicky feeling in your chest.

Slowly, you begin to remember your day: you left work and the car started. You left for lunch and the car started. Clearly, it had started when you left home that morning… Didn't it?

"Oh shit…" You whisper while an embarrassed expression takes over your features. Your eyes shift towards the ground as you pull slightly further away to create a bigger distance between your bodies, too self-conscious to even look at them. "I couldn't get the engine to turn this morning. I had to start it, put it in neutral, and then start it again."

They nod, kissing your forehead once more as they stand in front of the hood of your car. You are still too embarrassed to look but you can hear the moment their toolbox touches the ground and as their hands pop it open. A few seconds go by as they begin tinkering with the metal inside, though your knowledge of cars isn't deep enough for you to fully understand what is going on.

You cross one arm against your chest while the other rests above your hand, your index finger tapping on your cheek while you can't help but take small nibbles on your thumb's nail. The anxiety inside of your chest never dissipates, nor the shame.

The morning had been nothing but a blur. You woke up late for work, forgot to eat or even bring anything to snack on until you had time to go to lunch, spilled water all over your car, and, to top it all off, it was raining in the morning. The engine not starting was just one of the many, many things that had gone wrong. You meant to text Hanji about it so they could meet you during your work hours and fix it but, of course, you forgot to charge your phone the night before.

You close your eyes and exhale, leaning against the car. Before you can get yourself into a frenzy, you hear Hanji's gentle voice pulling you out of the dark spiral you were about to send yourself into, "Okay, good news and bad news."

"Please explain it to me like I'm five," you say, shooting them an exhausted look and it causes them to chuckle quietly. "Bad news first."

"The alternator, or thing that charges your car battery, isn't properly working for some reason. Maybe because it's old, maybe it's faulty, but it for sure will not start working again, like, that thing is dead."

You nod, surprisingly following along with what they are telling you. You realize that all this knowledge comes from the previous times they have come to your aid or maybe from all the times they would check under the hood of your car before you left their house while the two of you still lived in separate households. Regardless, you turn your attention to them once more.

"I checked the fluid and the coolant and everything seems to be full and working ok. I ran some codes and nothing out of the ordinary popped up and lastly, I checked your oil." They say, wiping the grime out of their hands with a bleached towel, their face slightly sweaty, especially around the area where their glasses sit on their nose.

"Fuck… And the good news?" You ask, biting your nails even more, almost to the point of blood. With a gentle and concerned expression, Hanji takes a few steps forward, wrapping their dirty digits around your trembling palms, and only then do you notice just how short your nails have become.

"I can easily fix it. The last one we bought still has a warranty, so I can just change them." They whisper, placing a kiss against your fingers. A sense of despair fills your body again as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, your lip trembling as you speak in a quiet yet pathetic voice.

"Please, don't leave me alone."

They sigh, running their hand over their messy hair. They look over to the open hood of your car and around the neighborhood, trying to think about what the best choice would be in this situation.

"The store is fifteen minutes away, on my bike, I'll be back in - "

"Please, don't leave me alone!!" You beg desperately, whatever is left of your fingernails now digging into the skin of their biceps, your eyes are wide open as tears stream down. You weren't that upset about the car breaking down, but just the intensity of all the feelings you had been holding back finally caught up to you the moment you realized you would have to be without them for even a second.

Hanji is taken aback by how sudden your response is, and how desolate you sound. They can see the anxiety written all over your features and it causes their heart to ache in their chest. That's the moment in which they realize just how many feelings you have been bottling, just how bad your week has been, and just how you have refused to talk to them about it.

Almost like they gain consciousness, their arms wrap around your frame, pulling you closer to their body. In exchange, you bury your head on their chest, not carrying that their shirt is now covered in grime and sweat, even if it is chilly outside. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" They whisper, their lips pressed against the top of your head.

You want to shake your head, to put your walls up once more and brush it off as "just a bad day", but it was more than that. It had been a bad week, a bad month, and you had gone through it all by yourself, in silence. Crying in the shower but still putting on a smile when around them, your appetite barely exists but you still eat all of their cooking. But before you can deny anything, the tears begin pouring down your face once more, you cling to them like they are the last life vest on a sinking ship.

“I d-don’t know what is going on with me…” You gasp, hiding your face in a mixture of shame and search for comfort. “I just… I just want to be close to you at all times, I just never want to be alone and I just… Everything is too much and not enough, everything is going wrong. I…”

“My love,” they whisper, holding you slightly tighter with one arm. With their free hand, they prop up your chin, a gentle and warm smile taking over their lips once your eyes meet. “You don’t have to suffer alone, ok? I am here for you, no matter what, when, or where. I will always be by your side.”

“Good and bad?” You sniffle and they chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes as they lean down so their forehead is touching yours. They nod.

“Good and bad, my angel…” They whisper, their eyes closing as your noses brush together. You lean closer, your lips brushing against theirs so lightly that it nearly feels like a paint-filled brush against a canvas, working its way through a halfway-painted masterpiece.

Hanji gently presses your body against the car door, their grip on your waist is tight as they make sure to keep you safely in place. Your lips are half-open, temptingly wet in the dim light of the street pole, your face is stained with silent tears and the only thought going through their head? “I really need to kiss her.”

And so they do. They lean forward ever so slightly until there is no more room between the two of you. When your lips collide, you can’t help the quiet gasp that exists in your body, your hand gently resting on their cheek while your thumb brushes against the softness of their skin.

You get lost in the warmth of their body, in how comforting it feels to have them pressed against you like this. Your nose brushes against theirs as your head tilts slightly to the side, the faint smell of coffee and menthol cigarettes still lingering on their breath as it mixes with the scent of the gum you had in your mouth earlier.

They nibble on your tongue gently, sometimes brushing the tip of their own against it and it’s enough to cause you to nearly melt in their arms. If it wasn’t for their strong arms holding you in place, you would have fallen to the ground into a puddle underneath their feet.

Neither of you wants to pull away, but the need to breathe is becoming stronger by the second. When you separate, your forehead rests against theirs, and your eyes remain closed as you enjoy the smell of their skin. Even if it isn’t a pleasant smell, it brings you too much comfort in this moment for you to care.

“I’ll call Moblit and he can come to help, ok?” They whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You nod, lacing your fingers with the ones on their left hand while they pull their phone out of their pocket with the other. "I'll send him to the store and I will stay with you. You won't be alone, I promise."

As they speak to the man on the other end of the line, you can’t help but allow a small smile to form on your lips as you think about how lucky you are to have someone like them in your life. Someone willing to stop everything at the drop of a hat to come to rescue you when you need them most.

As they blow you a kiss, you find yourself thinking about that one specific sentence once more, realizing that no truer words had ever been spoken:

“Hanji is here to fix all your problems.”

189 notes · View notes

fairlyang · 11 months ago

Text

Dos Locos 🕷️

ཐིཋྀ W/C: 1.8K

ཐིཋྀ PAIRING: ex!miguel x latina!reader

ཐིཋྀ TAGS: 18+ smut. toxic af, broken up, pettiness, cheating x2 (never do this), still so toxic, unprotected sex, being insufferable x2, awful humans, creampie

notes: i wrote the beginning on the last day of may i’m so dead😭 kinda back to writing for mig again 😀 july was for qimir oops. also was thinking of insomniac peter not peter b but it doesn’t matter sjsjsjjs

Broken up. Separated. End of. Not together.

You and Miguel both decided to break up because the relationship had gotten so toxic over the past year and you were both growing tired of it. So you ended it mutually but deep down you weren’t over him and he wasn’t over you either. after all it was a three year relationship.

Unfortunately you were both stubborn and were not going to make the first move to get back together or have one final fling. Especially since you found out he was on some petty shit after a month of being broken up and already seeing someone new.

in another world where his brother Gabriel wasn’t taken, he would’ve been the first choice. but you weren’t a homewrecker. famous last words.

So you did the only logical thing you could think of and hit up one of his work friends because you needed to out-petty him.

You ended liking him the tiniest bit and it may not have been so healthy to do it so soon after the breakup but you couldn’t help it.

Peter was just so sweet and funny, and didn’t nag at you over the littlest of things.

It was a surprise when you started officially going out with him two weeks after that. You saw him nearly everyday and he always spoiled you. Maybe a bit of love bombing but it was just so nice. it was a huge difference from the end of your relationship with Miguel.

You didn’t even care when you found out Miguel was also going out with that girl you saw him with two months ago.

After all, you were broken up, right?

imagine knowing damn well you’re both seeing other people, hell just full on taken but after an accidental sighting of each other at a bar you ended up in a hotel room together.

both of you folding like a book as if you weren’t in supposed happy relationships. neither of you could deny your feelings for each other and the chemistry was still there as if it never left.

so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he was on top of you, pounding into you as if the breakup never happened.

but his dirty words would quickly remind you.

“eres tan terca-“ he groans as you roll your eyes. (you’re so stubborn)

you had been denying that you missed him since you entered the room. he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t going to be the first to openly and verbally admit it.

“lo dices como si tu no eres!” you scoff making him grunt. (you say it as if you aren’t!)

“you’re a pain in my ass.” he mutters making you chuckle.

“yet here you are fucking me.” you spat quickly earning yourself an eye roll.

he was already so tired of your shit. it’s like he’s getting reminded of the reasons you broke up in the first place. it was bad enough you were as or even more stubborn than him but for it to not even stop while he was fucking you?

even after three months had passed?

and the fact that he liked it? he knew there was something wrong with him.

so he did what logically made sense in his head and started giving you deeper thrusts while keeping his same brutally fast pace.

you yelped and squirmed around but he held your legs in place. you bit your lip and gave him a glare.

how was it possible for him to be this annoying and still not put you off?

the grip he still has on you made you sick.

“aw estás enojada?” he teases making you let out a groan. (aww are you mad?)

he was just so aggravating. but lord was the bickering so badly missed.

so you decided to change the topic on the argument. just to have a slight upper hand.

“so are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?” you say breathlessly.

“what the fact that you practically jumped into my arms first chance you got?” he murmurs with a smirk.

you shake your head and roll your eyes, “that is not what happened-“ you start but cut yourself off, “how about the fact that you moved on after a fucking month?”

“what jealous?” he taunts and you groan again.

“you fucking wish.” you say and give him a grin.

“if anything you wished i was jealous.” he says stifling a laugh back.

“oh please.” you scoff and he shrugs before coming down so his face was closer to yours.

your hands were on his biceps, because if there was one thing you missed was having them to grip on to. Peter was rather… scrawny.

and as if reading your mind, he continued. “did you think you’d really make me jealous with Puny Parker?” he laughs, making you groan.

“i wasn’t trying to make anyone jealous.” you quickly defended yourself but he didn’t believe a word.

“yeah okay.” he mumbles and holds back a smile.

he did miss this, so of fucking course he was jealous. he was so fucking pissed when Peter started talking about chasing after a girl he was crushing on only to find out it was you.

he wanted to kill him.

but then he realized he shouldn’t be jealous. you weren’t his anymore and he had Dana. he should be more than happy and not jealous out of his mind but yet you always haunted his thoughts, dreams, hell he nearly moaned out your name when Dana was sucking him off.

he fucking knew Peter was giving you eyes but you always claimed he was just being nice.

nice would be letting you go without any marks on your body. even that was pushing it.

he quickly decided against it and leaned down, letting go of one of your legs to squeeze your left breast before sucking on your nipple. he moaned and pulled slightly back before he flicked his tongue over it,

he then went higher and kissed the top of your breast, everything happening so fast your mind didn’t even process when he started to suck onto your skin.

you gasped and smacked his arm before trying to push him away but he wasn’t budging. now you were getting worried.

sure you knew you’d have to face the music at some point but now with a fucking bright ass mark on your breast you’d have a harder time dragging it out.

“estás loco!!!” you hissed and he finally pulled away, with the biggest shit-eating grin. (you’re crazy!!!)

he decided to finally fall into being honest.

“por ti lo soy. quisite escuchar eso verdad?” he murmured and you feel your face flush. (for you i am. you wanted to hear that right?)

he moaned as you clenched against him, a big indicator that he was right. your body always gave you away and you wouldn’t even be able to lie about it.

“you’ve been dying to hear me admit how badly i missed you, haven’t you?. how i missed your hugs, missed your cooking, your kisses?” he admits and you bit your lip trying to fight the urge to give in.

his hand went up to your cheek, forcibly making you lock eyes with him. as if things couldn’t get worse he just kept going, “wanted to hear how fucking badly i missed your mouth? how fucking much i’ve been needing your pussy?”

his tone hit you and you couldn’t stop the moan from leaving your lips. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he slowed down, focusing on hitting it deeper inside you.

“ahora dime, soy el único loco?” he asks and you look back at him, beyond happy. (now tell me, am i the only crazy one?)

because you knew it and were glad it was mutual, and because you didn’t give in first.

he looked at you expectantly, he knew the truth the whole time but he knew with his admission that yours would follow.

you quickly wrapped you arms around his neck, bringing him closer before whispering, “somos un par de locos.” (we’re a pair of crazy people)

he leaned in and kissed you. you kissed him back immediately and it instantly turned into a heated kiss with his tongue clashing with yours. his hands were all over you and yours moved to scratch at his back because him fucking you again was what you’ve been craving.

he went back to pounding into you like there was no tomorrow and knew he wasn’t going to stop until he came inside you. he was already feeling so close and with the way you squeezed him to perfection like you always did, it wasn’t the tiniest bit surprising.

he pulled away so you could both catch your breath but mostly because he wanted to see your face. he loved looking at you when you came. even more so when you came at the same time.

he leaned his forehead to yours, his eyes all glossy, and his thrusts becoming slopping. you clenched against him and felt your orgasm build up quickly. “missed you so much baby.” you whimpered and he nodded, pieces of his hair falling down.

“you have no idea how much i missed you mami.” he murmured making you moan and hold onto his face as your legs began shaking.

“moaned your name instead of his.” you admitted making him smile.

“nearly did the same.” he chuckled making you laugh.

you were truly so alike. in more ways than you could ever count.

“you’re gonna call him after this and tell him to fuck off.” he muttered and you could only whimper.

“you’re all fucking mine i don’t care.” he purred and grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his.

“toda mía, verdad hermosa?” he murmured and you quickly moan out a yes which was enough to push you both off the edge. (all mine, right beautiful?)

he groaned as he spilled his load inside you, making sure it was as deep as possible before doing slow thrusts to ride out your highs. your legs shook and your cries only drove him more insane.

he kissed your forehead as you brought your legs down and he slowly started to slip out of you. as much as he wants you to keep all his cum, he knew you were about to knock out.

his dick slipped out with a loud plop and his cum oozed out and dripped down to your asshole. he quickly got up and ran to the bathroom, getting a towel before running back to you to clean you up.

you closed your eyes as he made sure every drop came out and he softly cleaned you up before throwing the towel away and getting back into bed.

you quickly got comfortable on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and lifting the blanket over your bodies, so happy to have you back.

#miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara imagine #atsv miguel #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x y/n

381 notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 1 year ago

Text

Home Improvements

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x wife!reader

Summary | Emmett does yard work while you’re outside tanning and you (both) get a little needy.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, humiliation, exhibitionism, a lil degradation, breeding, slight age gap, they’re so cute it kinda makes me sick lol.

Words | 1.8 k

Notes | I’ve been wanting to write some consensual Emmett stuff for a while so thank you to the anon who sent an ask to @kiss-me-cill-me who ended up tagging me🤭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

More of these two

(Ignore the fact that idk how lawn mowers work lmaooo)

You were laying down on a lawn chair in your favorite bikini, sunglasses on and book in hand, but you weren’t reading anymore. You were completely focused on Emmett. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open and his already short sleeves were rolled up a little, showing even more of his muscles and tattoo in a way that made your mouth water.

When you noticed he was standing still, you forced yourself to pay attention and realized he was looking at you. “What?” You called out. The engine of the lawn mower was still on, but it was quieter now that he wasn’t moving it.

“I asked if it’s too loud.” Your heart fluttered a little— he’s always so considerate.

“No it’s okay. Thank you for checking though.” You were out here first so of course he wanted to make sure he wasn’t disturbing your tanning/reading time.

You continued watching him. Occasionally he’d stop and remove his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he was getting through it pretty quickly, much to your displeasure.

“Hey, Emmett?” You yelled, hoping he heard you with how far he was. He paused, turning toward you, and when you waved him over, he obeyed instantly.

“Yeah?”

“Aren't you kind of hot? It’s like 80 degrees out today.” You said casually, confusing him.

“A little, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Maybe you should take your shirt off. Feeling the breeze really helps.” You suggested, glancing down at your mostly nude body to show that you weren’t completely bullshitting that excuse. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a little, looking away from you with a small smile.

“Sure, baby.” You knew that he knew exactly what you were doing, but you didn’t care. You got what you wanted and that’s all that matters. He started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, then tossed it onto the second lawn chair. Since he already knew, you decided to close your book and put it on the small table in between both chairs.

“You know, it also might help if you work a little slower too. Going fast means using more effort, and that means getting hotter quicker.” You knew it was grasping at straws and completely cheesy, but he scoffed a laugh and played along.

“Good point. Any other suggestions?”

“None that don’t involve public indecency.” You said teasingly and he chuckled again before walking back over to the lawn mower to continue. You could see now that his torso was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, only getting you more worked up.

There was something so incredibly hot about watching your husband do completely mundane, domestic tasks like mowing the lawn and barbecuing. He also had a really bad habit of doing home self improvements… so at any given time, there was at least one part of the house that was unfinished. The plus side to his love of home diy’s was that he’d build you things for the house, like extra storage in a weird space where nothing could really fit, or a new table after you accidentally spilled paint all over it and couldn’t get it off.

You frowned when he turned the lawn mower off and started walking over to you. “It looks amazing, honey.” You smiled, shamelessly eyeing his body as he sat down on the chair next to yours. You offered him your glass of ice water which he took eagerly, gulping down more than half of it in one go. “You know, I think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job.” Honestly, it was more a reward for you being able to sit here for half an hour without jumping his bones.

“You hate when I’m all sweaty.” You could tell that he wanted whatever you were offering though.

“Yeah… but that just gives us an excuse to have round two in the shower.” You smirked and his lips curled up into a small smile.

“Come here.” He said as he laid back in the lawn chair, letting you climb onto his lap. His hands settled on your hips as you took off your glasses and his hat before finally kissing him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, letting you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. When he pulled back, you whined quietly. “I don’t think I can do yard work while you’re tanning anymore. I’ve been hard since I walked out here.” You choked out a laugh, then started grinding on his bulge, making his breath catch in his throat.

“I agree. I’ve been wet since you started mowing.” You leaned down to kiss him again, still grinding your hips, and his hands dragged up your sides to cup your breasts, making you moan quietly. When he pulled your bikini down to rest below them, you let out a gasp that turned into a mewl when he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. “Fuck- Emmett…” You said through a breath, tightening your grip on his hair. “People might see.” Even though you were in the backyard that had a wood fence all the way around the perimeter, there was still a chance.

“Thought you said I deserve a reward.” He grumbled, moving to your other nipple to suck and nip at it teasingly. “And I want to fuck my wife on my own property. I don’t give a shit if someone sees.” You knew that wasn’t true. You’d have to stop him from commiting a felony if someone accidentally saw your body because of how jealous and possessive he could be.

“I’m gonna be pissed if we get in trouble with the HOA.” A few years ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d be married, living in a suburban house, worried about the HOA. Despite your words, you started snaking your hands down his chest and stomach to his belt. You managed to unbuckle it, even with how close your bodies were, then you opened his pants and took out his cock, stroking him to full hardness.

“Fuck.” He hissed, kissing up your chest to your neck, then sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a mark. “Need you, doll.” He whispered, hips bucking up toward your hand, desperately seeking out your tight, warm cunt. Since you were just as desperate, you quickly pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and sunk down on his cock, making both of you moan. You sat down on him completely, then paused, needing to let yourself adjust.

When his hands snaked around to your back and tugged on the string of your bikini, you gasped and tried to keep the fabric from moving away— at least with it below your breasts, you could quickly cover yourself if needed. Emmett didn’t seem to care about that though as he pulled it over your head then threw it somewhere to the side.

“Fuck..” You said through a breath. The risk was making you infinitely needier and as you continued to get more turned on, you started to care less about someone possibly seeing.

“Come on, baby. Give me my reward.” He gruffed. As if your body was completely under his command, you started rocking your hips, warming yourself up a little. You cried out when he suddenly slapped your ass. “You know what I want.” His voice was much harsher now, making it clear that this was a demand, not a request. So you started bouncing up and down on his lap, forcing moans out of both of you. “That’s it… Be a good little wife and use that greedy cunt to please my cock.” He groaned, slapping your ass again before moving his hands up to grope your tits. You were starting to sweat now as you panted, quickly heating up from the exertion.

Getting bolder, he suddenly reached for the strings on both hips, then quickly pulled to untie them. “Emmett..” You warned— being completely nude was way too risky.

“We can move this to the front yard if you’d prefer.” He threatened, making you falter. When you gave up on trying to stop him, he smirked and removed the fabric, leaving you fully bare. “What would people say, honey?” He murmured mockingly. “If they knew that you liked riding me in public, in broad daylight, without wearing any clothes.”

“Emmett…” You whined, his words making you needier.

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek. “You can’t help being a whore, but it’s okay because you’re my whore. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You mewled, desperately moving your hips, chasing your release.

“Say it.” His hands settled on your hips and he held you still, then started bucking up into you.

“I’m your whore, Emmett.” You whined with a blush. He moved one hand to smack your ass as a warning, then immediately put it back on your hip. “I’m your whore!” You cried out, much louder this time. “Fuck— please make me come.”

“Wait just a little longer, doll, I’m almost there.” He said breathily, tightening his grip on your hips almost painfully and bucking up into you so fast, you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your breasts were moving embarrassingly with how hard he was pounding you, only furthering your humiliation… which only brought you closer to the edge.

“Emmett.. please, I can’t hold it.” You whimpered, clinging to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“Go ahead, sweet girl…” He said through a breath. “Come for me.” You reached down to rub your clit and when your orgasm crashed over you, Emmett quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth, muffling what would’ve been a mix of a scream and a moan. You stared down at him with furrowed brows as your body trembled with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you.

He cursed under his breath when your orgasm made your cunt squeeze his cock almost too tight, sending him over the edge as well. You only had to endure the overstimulation for a few seconds while he continued bucking up into you, riding it out. His grunts and breathy moans were creating a new pool of arousal in your stomach, but he was done before he could get you worked up all over again.

When he relaxed his grip, you accidentally sunk down all the way, making you both wince from the sensitivity. You were still panting and Emmett was in a similar state, but he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss anyway. It was short, but still deep and passionate, leaving you even more breathless.

“I’m going to look into building higher walls for the fence so you can start tanning naked.” His lips were curled up into a poorly concealed smirk. “Just so you don’t get tan lines, obviously...” He said coyly, making you laugh.

I think I want to write more for them cause I really like their dynamic so send me some ideas <3

#emmett smut #emmett a quiet place #emmett x you #emmett x reader smut #emmett x reader #cillian murphy #Emmett x wife!reader

658 notes · View notes

grinsgrimmy · 8 months ago

Note

I would like to request something! Of only if you are comfortable with it. I was thinking to request for the manhwa ‘My in-laws are obsessed with me’ with the male lead but since you replied to me saying that you weren’t really ready, I decided to request for ‘ How to reject my obsessive ex-husband’ with the male lead and crown prince crushing on the same lady. But with the same role the reader had last chapter you made of this manhwa. I would love for it to be a drabble ofc! Oxox thanks for reading this !

ＭＩＮＥ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖨𝖤𝖫 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖩𝖠𝖢𝖤

HOW TO REJECT MY OBSESSIVE EX-HUSBAND

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble . (1030 words)

sum. jace had summoned you to the imperial palace to receive your guiding. unfortunately, ciel had tagged along.

ㅤㅤ like ciel? check out ciel oneshot .

note : thank you for your request, anonie! i was certainly surprised to see jace. though there was no further context on prompt/plot, i assume anonie wanted conflict. where is the fluff? i dont know either. its hard to keep it fluff when there are two crazy men. ill let it slide just this once. i had to also increase the drabble maximum words to 1000 because of this...

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

you tried your best to ignore the blatant scowling and glowering coming from the man across from you.

ciel's dark eyes burned with a mixture of possessiveness and jealousy, an incredibly stark contrast to the soft, almost reverent gaze from jace.

ever since the crown prince had accidentally figured out you were a guide, he had been bending over backwards to have you by his side. he tried summoning you any moment possible.

and who were you to deny the orders of a royalty?

you relunctantly needed to give jace your guiding, which was originally why you were summoned to the palace in the first place.

ever since the saintess disappeared, you had to step up as the sole guide to assist the espers of the kingdom.

ciel hated every second of it. the possessiveness simmering beneath the surface compelled him to follow you like a loyal guard dog, never willing to let you out of his sight whenever you were around other espers.

hence, his determination led him to follow you to the palace. jace, initially dissatisfied by his intrusion, did not cast ciel out of the palace, yet jace found himself caught between loyalty and frustration.

ciel is his closest friend, after all. however, ever since you moved into the picture, their dynamic clearly shifted, each moment charged with unspoken rivalry and frustration.

and ciel hated every single second of it. due to it, he opted to follow you around like a guard dog. which led to him following you to the palace, which jace was displeased at first, but he could not throw out his closest friend.

jace eagerly awaited, meekly glancing at you as you intertwined your fingers with his. jace did not know how it happened, but he came to love you. truly. even if it was love at first sight.

though his heart was formerly with the priestess, he came to prefer you as you were everything better than him. stronger, lovable, and confident.

jace wishes to crown you and make you empress, revering you as his one and only. you being a mere noble gave him better opportunities to have your hand as his empress.

if it were not for ciel being there, that is.

you could feel the tension radiating from ciel, who remained rigid. his arms were crossed, watching over you as if to be physically ready if jace decided to do anything hasty.

you tried your best to ignore the seething jealousy that radiated from ciel as you focused on jace. the crown prince's eagerness was palpable, his bright yet shy eyes fixed on you as if you were the only thing that kept him anchored to the ground.

you let out a breath you had unknowingly held in, glancing at jace and gave him a comforting, reassuring smile. jace responded with a smile of his own, gentle and meek.

you slowly closed your eyes, feeling the anticipation humming in the air as you allowed yourself to give guiding to jace. you heard jace immediately gasp with relief, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as he felt the soothing flow of your guiding.

addicting. that was what your guiding was to him. far more addictive than the priestess's. you were like a drug to him.

jace's face was flushed red, his eyes wide open with pleasure as you continued to give him your guiding. slowly, the crown prince's eyes travelled to your closed eyes, to your lips, a thought running through his mind.

the true ability of guiding emerges when the connection between the guide and the esper becomes intimate, deepening the bond.

jace leaned to down to your face-

ciel quickly stood up, his frustration bubbling over when he saw jace's expression shift from relief to something more intimate. the sight of the crown prince enraptured by your guiding ignited a fierce possessiveness within him.

without a second thought, he stepped forward, pulling you away from the crown prince. "enough," he ordered, glaring at his friend. before you could react to the sudden broken connection, ciel held you within his arms and desperately shoved his lips to yours.

you were his. you were bonded to him. you were his only guide.

he had you first.

yet time and again, the espers of this damned kingdom dared to flock towards you when ciel was the one who first claimed you as his own.

but he could not do anything drastic since jace was a royalty. he could only protest by being bold.

if ciel could commit treason, he would do so.

but he would be repeating the fate the novel him ended up with in that silly book that was deemed a prophecy by the head priest.

ciel groaned against your lips as you gave him your guiding due to the intimate contact you were brought upon. you melted within the kiss when he grasped your hips.

the moment ciel was caught up on quickly shattered when jace stood up, frustration etched across his features. "ciel!" he barked. ciel relunctantly broke away the guiding and the kiss, his eyes narrowing at his friend.

the tension in the air shifted. you felt the weight of their rivalry pressing in on you. but unlike ciel, he was never physically confrontational, jace could only do so little.

jace inched closer to the both of you, pressing his chest against your back while ciel's body was against your front as they both began bickering between themselves, ignoring your awkward plight in between them.

ciel grasped your wrist, pulling you closer against him, but jace protested and grabbed your waist, although his grip was a lot gentler than ciel's. you could feel the heat radiating from both of them.

suddenly they glanced at you, ciel's angered expression morphed into a pouty, hurt one, "come with me, wife?" he begged in a desperate tone, kissing the palm of your hand.

jace took your chin, raising your head to let you meet his soft eyes, "i'll give you the kingdom and more," he vowed, taking your other hand to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.

you could feel a vessel of annoyance pop within you.

so you replaced the saintess in the novel, huh?

how fun.

request drabble .

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

#⌞୨ৎ⌝ . fics #⌞୨ৎ⌝ . request #how to reject my obsessive ex-husband #manhwa x reader #ciel x reader #jace x reader #I ENDED UP YAPPING AGAIN RAHH #sorry if this was bad lol #jace is the type of man who probably doesnt mind sharing ngl #WHERE IS THE FLUFF IDK

208 notes · View notes

snailpebbles · 8 months ago

Text

longtime love - OP81

summary: oscar is oblivious, cannot word sentences, and is hit hard.

tags: accidental confession, angst then fluff ig, idiots.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

"C'mon, it's just one little favor!" Oscar sighs in exasperation, tossing his hands up before resting them on his hips. You turn away from him, hand up to your lips as if chewing your nails when in actuality, you're trying to not cry. By any means you aren't a crybaby, but in this case you think the reaction is valid. Oscar continues to plead - an out of character move by him - as your defenses start to wear down, leaving you with a choice. Relent and suffer, or say no and suffer.

"It's just one date alright? One night with me is all I ask." He sighs, gently grabbing your bicep. The apartment should feel warm and cozy as it typically does, but now all you feel is cold; the comfort stripped away as the realization of just how wrong this could all go hits you. Yes, it is just one fake double date to appease some friends, and yes, you are also madly in love with him. What could go wrong?

Oscar moves into the kitchen as you stay in the living room, the open space still allowing his pleading and your silent panic. You can keep it together for one night. Definitely. Sure he'd be dressed all nice, calling you his girlfriend, maybe even kiss-

Yeah no, you have to do this.

Just as you make up your mind to help him out, completely unselfishly of course, Oscar opens his mouth once more in the midst of his rambles. He's still in the kitchen and you're still in the living room, that distance seeming to grow wider as he doesn't notice the way your face falls.

"We wouldn't actually be dating- I mean could you imagine?" Oscar laughs, shaking his head. He laughs at the idea of being together, being with you. Finally he must gain awareness since his face drops upon looking at you, noticing how hurt you appear. It's like your heart has split in two and the air has been punched out of your lungs. "Hey- hey wait no I didn't mean it like that-" He starts, realizing his mistake as he rounds the kitchen bar to reach you.

You're already gone though, pulling on your shoes as the urge to leave and wallow in your bed hits you. Oscar doesn't understand why exactly you're reacting this way until it all hits him at once. The lingering looks he just assumed were you zoning out, the affection he now realizes no one else gets, and why no one you've dated has ever seemed to like him. You're heading towards the door as his world spins on its axis, but those reflexes still allow him to catch you by the arms and make you at least look at him.

"Oscar let me go." You whisper, head bowed as you can't stand to look at him. You know that he knows; it's obvious in the way he's shaking and how he isn't smiling like you would at such a revelation. "I know, so please.. let me go." Oscar shakes his head at your words, an unreasonable guilt swelling in his chance the moment he comes to terms with the fact that.. he doesn't feel the same. He loves you, adores you even, but is it romantic? Has it ever been romantic?

He's left to grapple with many new emotions as you leave, the door clicking shut as his apartment goes silent. You love him. This whole time you've loved him. Him? The idea seems impossible, someone as amazing as you loving him. Oscar sits down on his couch, head in his hands and groans in frustration at his own feelings. He doesn't love you like that, surely he doesn't. But he could try, couldn't he? It all feels stupid so he pours himself a drink and decides to sleep on this.. but does end up staring at pictures of you two together. Which could mean nothing.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

It's been two weeks, bordering on three, since you've talked. Life feels stale and quiet, no one is there to listen to you complain about professor so and so, and you don't hear anything about Lando making some silly joke. All in all, it sucks and getting over your best friend is not for the weak. He probably isn't even struggling as hard as you!

Oscar's life feels as though it's ending.

Two weeks. Two weeks!

How can he go on? He isn't hearing anything about some dumb professor and has no one to tell Lando's stupid jokes to. Hattie is urging him to talk to you but I'd course he chickens out, it's you. The woman he maybe, possibly, is wildly in love with. He doesn't know! If he could just see you and stop sitting around his apartment moping like he is now, maybe that could be remedied. His nonsensical praying seems to have worked since his phone dings, the notification the one he has just for you. You want him to come over to talk.

He's never gotten up so fast in his life.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

Why? Why did you send that text? After stumbling into your bathroom and realizing you look like shit personified, you decide to rip the bandaid off and get the horrendous rejection over. All you want is your best friend back, even at the expense of your feelings.

Maybe two hours pass and then your doorbell is ringing, a look through the peephole showing a very nervous looking Oscar. Okay, alright, you can do this. You smooth down your shirt pointlessly, dust off invisible dirt, and open the door.

Oscar stares. He stares until you clear your throat and do that cute little shuffle on your feet to relieve some nerves- wait cute?

"Hey." That was awkward. Too awkward. It seems to be fine though since you let him in and both of you sit on your - much comfier - couch. "So uhm.." He presses his lips together while you stare at your hands, practically miles apart from one another when usually you'd be cuddled up watching a movie by this point.

"I'm sorry about uhm.. well everything. I overreacted." You say quietly, picking at the hem of your shirt. Oscar stalls for a moment, not at all expecting you to apologize.

"What? No you didn't-" He struggles to get the words out, turning to face you properly and grab your hands to stop your picking. "You didn't do anything wrong or whatever you're thinking." It's hard to believe what he's saying, but his hands warming yours is a nice distraction. You lift your head to finally look at him, a bit surprised by his concerned expression. He shifts nervously and his eyes can't seem to meet yours, the tension in the air rising tenfold.

"So.. you know?" The question has to be asked and you need to know if you can salvage this, no matter how insistent he is that it's fine. Oscar nods, muttering a quiet 'I know' as heat creeps up his cheeks. A sigh escapes you but Oscar knows you just as well, squeezing your hands before your thoughts run wild.

"Can we figure this out? Please?" He asks softly, eyebrows furrowed upwards and shoulders tense. His grip on your hands is tight yet it steadies you, the tension easing ever so slightly the moment you nod 'yes'.

"You don't feel the same." It's more of a statement, an acceptance, rather than a question. Oscar doesn't respond - better than the immediate yes you expected - and instead moves closer, his knees now pressed to yours.

"I don't know." He starts, his heart fluttering anxiously about his chest. The response confuses you yet you don't pull away, that tiny bit of hope nudging its way into your brain against your better judgement. His eyes lift to yours before he begins to speak again, forgetting just for a second what he was going to say as he looks at you.

"I've never seen you in this way, y'know? But now.." His face goes from pink to red, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck in that endearing way you love.

"Now?" You edge him on, lacing your fingers through his in a bold move. Thankfully he accepts and a small smile tugs at his lips, making your heart speed up slightly.

"Well you- you're making me feel all nervous, and I don't know how to uh.. how to handle it?" He shrugs helplessly, looking conflicted. The feelings have been coming to the surface in the past two weeks, ones he'd unknowingly been pushing down for some stupid reason he couldn't fathom. In his vision you appear radiant, a warmth he craves and wants to love but doesn't know how. The idea that you've always felt this strongly for him only fuels his guilt.

"Welcome to my life." You mutter without really thinking, but he laughs so it's okay. He looks relieved as the tension shifts entirely, more giddy like a stupid highschool romance than anything else. "So.. now what?" Oscar shrugs in response, hesitant to ask what he might ruin things again. Then he looks at you and your beautiful smile, the way you seem to light up just with him, and knows he won't be able to handle it if he doesn't ask.

"Can we try this? Us?" It comes out as a whisper, the words you've dreamt of hearing these past few years, but they still feel unreal. He takes your shock as the beginning of a rejection, his face falling momentarily before he fixes it into his usual relatively calm expression. You snap out of it though when he tries to pull his hands away, catching and holding tight.

"We can." You whisper, trying to fight off the grin you feel coming. His arms come around you tight, hair tickling your neck where he hides his face. Oscar hasn't felt joy like this for quite some time and neither did he expect to be this excited; maybe he really, really likes you.

"I'm sorry for what I said that day, it really came out wrong and you should know the idea of being with you.. it's an amazing one." He says quietly, not even able to imagine how badly it must have hurt to hear him say such a thing. Even as you try to brush it off he continues apologizing, freeing up one hand to cup your cheek. He's tempted to laugh at how warm your skin feels knowing he's the cause, but he doesn't. The moment feels too serious and you look too fragile to do such a thing.

"So you like me and it's not some.. some laughable idea?" You raise an eyebrow, unconsciously leaning into his hand. Oscar nods eagerly, thumb rubbing your cheek with an affection you didn't honestly know he had. While it's hard to reconcile in your mind, the look in his eyes seems to be proof enough of his feelings. It's a look you've seen before when watching videos of you two, your own eyes easily a window into the love you hold.

"I'm an idiot for not seeing it, not seeing you sooner." He says softly, the space between you slowly becoming less and less. Soon his nose is bumping yours, lips melding into one another until he's holding your jaw and your hands have woven into his hair. His heart is racing, as is yours, and he doesn't know how he's managed to live without this for so long.

Surprisingly you pull away first, leaving your forehead to rest against his as both of you catch your breath. He kissed you. kissed. you. The world could end right now and you'd still be just as happy. His hair is soft as usual but his lips.. it's like they fit perfectly on your own.

"Okay, yeah. I like you." He mutters, making you snort in laughter. Oscar laughs with you, wanting to kiss you again but struggling to keep his smile down enough to do so. You feel almost lightheaded with happiness, yet doubt still nags at you.

"Are you sure..? I've never wanted anything more than this but no matter how bad I want you, I'm not going in if you aren't sure." You say firmly, leaning back just enough to properly see his face.

"I swear to you, I'm serious. I've never been more serious in my life okay?" Oscar murmurs, kissing your cheek to solidify his words. "I'll spend forever making up lost time with you."

"Forevers a long time.. sure you can deal with me?" You ask jokingly, trying to play off how his words make you feel all teary. Oscar picks up on this and pecks you on the lips, then repeatedly all over your face until you're giggling.

"There is no other way I'd like to spend forever than with you." He kisses you then, drawing you closer until you're borderline in his lap. It makes your heart burn almost, the excitement you feel, mixing in with love and relief. Oscar knows he'll never recover from you - not like he'd want to - even as he is still actively figuring out how he feels.

"You're mine now, hm?" He murmurs against your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider as he kisses you. All you can do is nod slightly, too lost in him to think of even daring to pull away.

Eventually you do break apart, cuddling up like you always would and putting on a movie you've both seen a hundred times. Comfortable. Familiar. Just as loving as before, but now it's expressed.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

#oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 fanfiction

189 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 9 months ago

Text

ltye + gym time

authors: this was inspired by a request/suggestion by @romansthrone we all know smut is hit or miss for me, but this felt very much like something that needed to be done, so here we are. i.e. idk wtf this is, but we're just going with it, friends.

warnings: smut

words: 2k

gif belongs to @romanreigns (don't know why the stupid tag never works smh)

Solana has come to enjoy training. Come to enjoy feeling herself growing stronger: mentally and physically. It’s a different but welcomed experience. So, it’s no big deal to her when Bayley and Naomi text that they’re stuck in traffic due to a bad accident that essentially shut down the interstate. Knowing they’re going to be more than just a couple minutes late, they instruct her to get started on her stretching until they get there. Not a big deal.

She’s confident enough to do that all on her own.

But therein lies the issue.

She’s not alone.

Because walking into the home gym, she’s met with none other than the hulking 6’3 frame of her husband who’s in the middle of a bench press.

“Oh.”

Solana was unaware of the fact that Roman planned to come back home after leaving their bed around 7am this morning. She figured he’d get his workout in elsewhere, maybe the Warehouse. Not at their home though. Especially not when she needs the space to train.

But her reaction is not one of anger or irritation. It’s something…..else. Something that’s solely driven by the fact that Roman’s physique is something crafted by the Gods themselves. His massive shoulders and bulging biceps are on full display in the sleeveless dri-fit workout top, and she would never admit it out loud, but it’s hard for her eyes not to focus on the bulge that’s pressing against his workout shorts as he pushes his muscles—and her self-control—to the limit.

It’s only when he goes to sit up that she redirects her attention to another machine. Anything to hide the truth of what she was really staring at.

“I—” She clears her throat. “I—I have training today.” Solana grips her water bottle, tightly, as she forces her gaze back on him. Her stomach caves in just ever so slightly watching him stand up and walk over to her. “I—I need to stretch.” Something flashes in Roman’s eyes, something she recognizes but refuses to feed into. “Bay—Bayley and Naomi. They’re—they’re running late.”

“Mmmm.” Her body is practically on fire under his intense gaze, the way his eyes can’t seem to decide if they wanna focus on her face or her chest. “How late?”

But, it’s that question that makes Solana realize she has to take some control. Stepping to the side of him, she moves over to the area with matts that face a section of mirrored walls. “I—I won’t bother you.”

She hears Roman behind her. Sees through the mirror how he can’t seem to rip his eyes from her ass. “You never bother me, Solana.” It’s an almost sweet sentiment that makes her smile a bit until the next part comes out. “But you damn sure distract me……”

No, no, no

Walking back over to him, almost shuffling, she takes a deep breath, doing her best to stay focused and not distracted like him. “Okay, we—we can share this space. I do my stretching and you just….like….do what you do.” She nods and can acknowledge the fact that she’s not sure just who she’s trying to convince. Him or her. “Okay?”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to the side, tongue licking his bottom lip.

Oh my god.

“Okay,” she says over a shaky breath, turning to walk away so she can get started and be done. Maybe she can talk the ladies into training outside today, because it’s clear Roman just got started and won’t be done anytime soon. And his focus seems to be on everything but working out, which is no good for her when she’s also struggling to remember her reason for even coming in here….

To her credit, Solana does well. Ish. Because every so often, she’ll look into the mirror and accidentally catch Roman’s eye. Sometimes, she can tell he was already looking in her direction. Other times, it’s truly a coincidence. Regardless of the reason, it helps her realize one very important thing.

That she’s just as distracted by him as he is by her.

But, she stays strong, stays as focused as possible.

Until she does one too many moves, one too many distracting moves.

Solana is bent over, hands on her right foot, enjoying the stretch of her limbs, the releasing of all tension in her muscles when she feels it. Feels him.

Solana gasps and shoots upward. Roman is directly behind her, his erection pressed into her ass, his hands on her hips. “Roman!”

“You really expect me to just stand here watching you bend over every which way and not get hard as fuck?” His hand moves to her stomach, bracing her against him. Solana’s hand moves over his as her eyes flutter shut.

“Roman….” The resolve is practically gone, and even she can admit she sounds more needy than anything. That nothing in the way she says his name indicates she wants him to stop, wants him to move away.

“You said you need to stretch, right?” He’s so cruel, the way he shifts behind her, almost teasing his rock hard dick against her ass cheeks at the same time he moves his hand upwards and gropes her breast. “So let me stretch you out.”

It should be a no. Should be a declined offer. Something that doesn’t result in clothes and plans being discarded in favor of carnal temptations being fulfilled.

She needs to be ready for training. He needs to lift.

They had agendas that shouldn’t be altered, but the minute Roman looks at her through the mirror, full lips lifting into a smirk as he slips his hand into her sports bra and gently squeezes her breast, she knows that it’s a wrap.

And in what feels like only seconds, Roman has her shorts off, her panties somewhere thrown about and her hands planted on the mirrored wall as he thrusts deep into her from behind.

“Roman.” When he’s inside her like this, dick throbbing and pulsing, it seems like the only word in her vocabulary is his name, a couple of profanities, and a few almost slurred indistinguishable sounds that could be words but really aren’t. “Mmmm”

Roman, however, can’t seem to take his eyes off her ass, the way it bounces off his thick dick that’s coated in her essence. “All this body you got, and you really thought I wasn’t going to touch you?” His hand moves to the small of her back, helping to steady her. “Wasn’t going to bury my dick inside you and watch you come apart?”

Solana says nothing, too focused on trying to keep her knees from giving out. Roman’s thrusts are controlled and focused but powerful and profound. It’s hard to keep her arms steady as he drives into her with all the passion and desire.

“P–please—” Eyes crunched up, Solana has the hardest time not screaming, yelling, shouting, anything to release the influx of overwhelming emotions—and pleasure. It hurts, but it doesn’t. It’s good, but it’s amazing. Too much but not enough. He’s giving her everything she needs yet more than what she can handle. “I—ca—” Moving one hand off the glass, she reaches behind her and struggles to get out a logical request. “It’s too—”

At that, he pauses, stops completely, his dick only halfway in her, and she’s never been so annoyed. “Am I hurting you?”

If not for the fact that remembering her name is a struggle with how good he feels inside her right now, Solana would feel a little bad. Would feel guilty for making this man think that anything about how he’s fucking her currently hurts. What hurts is the feel of only a part of his girthy member inside her, teasing her.

“No,” she answers confidently, unsure as to what her goal was in the first damn place.

“Good.” Solana moans and whimpers as he’s cruelly slow with shifting his hips as he works his way back inside of her. “Then take it, baby.” God, this man is unreal. “You can do it, can’t you, sweetheart? You can take all of me. Just like you did last night.”

Just the memory alone of Roman slamming into her, holding her legs up high and on his shoulders is enough to make her come. To make her finally lose all control and fall to the floor as her orgasm tears through her, hindering her of all autonomous mobility.

“C’mere.” Once again, she protests when he completely removes himself from her. Solana hates the hollow and empty feeling between her legs. Roman then turns her around, and she gasps as he hikes her on his waist and moves her so that her back is against the wall.

With one arm supporting her weight, she is both embarrassed and impressed how he manages to position and guide his dick inside her wet, velvety folds. It’s enjoyed and welcomed, but what’s neither of those things is Solana’s thought at him having to hold her up.

“Ro, I’m—” She bites down on her bottom lip, hands on his shoulder as she rocks into her. “T–too heavy.”

The last thing she wants is this man getting hurt, but the almost insulted expression on his face seems to indicate that’s the last thing on his mind.

Roman’s big hands dig into her hips as he asks with an almost haughtiness. “Do I look weak to you, baby?”

Nothing. Nothing about him screams weak.

And he emphasizes that strength as her head is naturally rocked back against the mirror while he starts to fuck her from this new position, deeper almost, more intimate. Her breast bouncing against her ribcage from the force of his thrusts.

Roman groans again, pushing his dick into her, mesmerized by the almost discombobulated expression on her face. He fucking loves how much she loves this. How much she loves the feeling of him inside her almost as much as he loves being inside her.

“Goddamn, this pussy gripping the shit out of me.” He nips at her neck, hissing as Solana’s short acrylics press into his skin. “Soaking wet and just for me, huh?”

She moans into his shoulder, shaking her head, that stroke of Roman’s ego encouraging him to shift her up higher, this different position just enough to help him find her spot. The evidence in how her whimpers and moans get louder combined with those thick, luscious thighs tightening around him.

“Love the pretty sounds you make, baby. All fucked out like this on my dick.” Roman is almost certain he could spend the rest of his life fucking his wife and never grow tired, never want to pull out or not experience the majesty of her wet ass pussy. “You gonna let me fuck you like this tonight? Hmm?” It’s a wicked thing to do, Solana thinks to herself. Mean for him to ask her something like that when she’s in no position to deny him. An impossible thing with how good he’s making her feel. “Gonna sit on my face so I can eat that pretty pussy till you’re pushing me away?”

Fuck.

Roman’s filthy talk during intimacy is something she’s certain she’ll never get used to, even if it does make her cunt flutter and throb with need.

“Y—y–yes, baby.” Because only a fool denies a god. “Oh, shit, right there—”

“Damn straight.” He squeezes her ass, wishing he’d taken her top off. He loves her titties almost as much as he loves her ass and wishes he could have them in his mouth right now. “My sweet girl letting me take care of her.”

And take care of her does he. In every way, especially like this. Always like this.

Solana holds onto him, clutches him close as he continues to talk her through it. The perfect combination of nice and nasty, tugging and pulling her closer and closer to her limit, to that edge where stars are the only thing she can see as a burst of intense, almost painful pleasure shoots through her, making her hold him even tighter. Roman’s tender voice is in her ear, encouraging her to ride it out, to let him fill her up as his own release arrives over him.

He’s gentle in the way he pulls out of her, uncaring of the cum, both his and hers, that saturates his dick. He’s too focused on the excitement at watching it spill down in between her legs and the way she continues to hold him, clearly unable to stand and walk on her own.

Solana lays her forehead against his chest, panting, “that—that was—”

“Always is,” his smart reply is also accurate. Intimacy with her has easily become one of his top three favorite pastimes. Her pussy is fucking addictive. Smirking, he does his best to ignore the fact that he’s still technically semi-hard and could absolutely prop her right back on his dick. Kissing the top of her head, he dances his fingers across her lower back, half-joking, half serious when he suggests, “you should let me stretch you out more often.”

#roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns fic #ltye short #arisnotebook

197 notes · View notes