#3. still on that topic.....but with a flash of nipple this time

[wenandcherrys]

10 Time Jun Stole My Soul And Absolutely Shredded it and my Sanity

[girls-alias]

Those Eyes - Dean Winchester P3

Title: Those Eyes - Dean Winchester Part 3

Words: 3,394

Relationship: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: Strong language. Angst, Sexual Tension, Choking, Dom-Sub, Fingering, Hair-pulling, Spanking.

Taglist: @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @pycobutterpie @deans-queen @suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @seasoning-spam @cxmitrbl

Part 1 - Part 2

Haha, just realised that every GIF I've used for these parts have all had him licking his lips. I didn't realise before this that I had a thing for it, outing myself haha 😳💜

Goosebumps formed on my body as his right hand found my waist, I gasped softly at the contact. He smirked as he looked over my body, his hand rubbing a path up my chest, between my breasts and to my neck. I bit my lip, his eyes catching the movement and smirking as he recognised my weakness to his hand on my neck. My knees felt weak as his smirk grew evil. He gripped my neck, squeezing the sides softly to restrict blood flow but not affecting my breathing. I gasped, as he moved closer to me. His lips were less than an inch from mine as he looked into my eyes.

"If you lock that door tonight, there will be hell to pay, got it?" He asked, his lips ghosting over mine. I internally begged for him to kiss me, his lips touching mine and taunting me wasn't enough, I needed to taste his lips, his tongue. All of him. I need it! I nodded quickly as he raised an eyebrow at me, clearly wanting an answer. He smirked softly before his eyes narrowed on me. His grip tightened slightly, I bit my bottom lip, eyes rolling back as I tried controlling my breathing. "Food is waiting for us, you have three minutes to get dressed or you're wearing nothing," He instructed, releasing my neck and stepping back. I gulped as I looked at him. As good as being naked with Dean sounds, I don't think Sam would be pleased. "You're wasting time," He added. I pulled myself back to reality, stepping away to hurry to my clothes. Grabbing the first things I could find to put on.

I threw on my joggers, stumbling slightly as I noticed Dean just watching me dress. Still staying true to his words, looking at me like he wanted to eat me. I believed he couldn't actually be able to look at me that way but somehow he has proven me wrong. I reached for the first cotton fabric I touched, yanking it out of the bag and throwing it on. I looked down as I pulled my shirt down, I was wearing black joggers with a bleached flower design on the sides and a black tank top that was maybe one size too tight but my go-to shirt to show off my boobs and get free drinks in the bars.

I snickered to myself as I realised that Dean had to play pool to earn money for drinks, working hard for it and all I had to do was walk around with flesh showing.

I turned around, flashing Dean a smile as I looked at him. He took his time looking up at my body to meet my eyes. He released his bottom lip from between his teeth to smile at him. Something about the moment felt wholesome to me. I began remembering how I had fallen for Dean. His smile, his positive energy. Sam always complained that he was angry and secretly hated himself but all I could see was a ray of light and joy. Sam and I could never agree on the topic.

Dean's eyes quickly shifted to wanting to eat me, and I felt my neck muscles tighten. "You're going to wear a tank top with no bra?" He asked menacingly. I bit my lip a little nervously. Dean smirked as he advanced towards me. He lifted my chin to look up at him as he looked down on me with dark eyes and that sexy smirk. "Perfect, I'm going to be able to watch your nipples harden when you look at me," His voice was deep and felt like satin. He lowered his lips closer to mine, our noses touching as he used my lips as a microphone. "You know, you still have about a minute," He added, smirking as he watched the thoughts behind my eyes.

We still have a minute, are we going to make out before we have to go to the food? God, I wish he would just hurry up and kiss me.

"I want to use this minute to know what is off limits." He explained slowly, my eyebrows furrowed slightly but Dean smirked. He moved his hand from my chin to pull my hair slightly. I bit my bottom lip as I moaned softly, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. "Is hair pulling okay?" He asked slowly. I quickly nodded as I peered back into his gorgeous green eyes. His hand found my neck. I gasped as he choked me softly. "Is choking okay?" I nodded instantly. He smirked, holding back a chuckle. I smirked at his reaction.

He left goosebumps on my skin, his fingers releasing my neck, slowly trailing down my right breast, over my hardened nipple, across my stomach and playing just beneath the waistband of my joggers. I held my breath in anticipation of his touch.

"Is touching okay?" He smirked, watching my deep breathing as my heart rate quickened. I nodded quickly. I practically whimpered as he moved his hand back.

I gasped as he suddenly pushed and pulled me to move me. I caught my breath as he positioned me in front of him, chest on the bed and my ass against his crotch. I bit my lip as he pushed his hips into mine. "Can I drag you around?" He asked, satisfaction in his tone. I nodded quickly. I bit down harder on my lip as he slapped my ass a little harshly. "Spanking?" I glanced back to see him smile as I nodded my head again. He leaned forward, grabbing both of my wrists and slowly moving them behind my back, my chest pushing into the bed. Dean held my wrists in one large hand. "Restraints?" He asked, I nodded again. "God, we might need more than a minute to find something off-limits," He commented with a chuckle. I smiled at his adorableness, it's such Dean's fashion to make a joke during such a serious situation. I chuckled as I rolled my eyes at him. Damn him for being so cute. "Stand up," He instructed. Not as much harshness to his tone as before. I followed instructions, standing up and turning in his arms to face him. "Kissing?" He asked slowly, he admired my lips as his hand found my check. I gulped as I nodded slowly. I closed my eyes as he leaned in. His lips barely touching mine, I leaned in softly. "We have to go but we're finishing this later," He whispered against my lips. I froze, rolling my eyes slightly at the denial.

"Promise?" I tempted, biting my lip as his eyes devoured me. It was his turn to nod quickly. I smirked seeing that I also have control over Dean. Maybe this isn't just one-sided, maybe he also has a weakness to me. I sucked my teeth slightly as an idea occurred to me. I smirked knowing I had to find the courage to try it.

"Lady's first," He instructed, gesturing with his hand towards the door. I smiled gratefully following his directions, I groaned slightly as he slapped my ass. I glanced back as I walked, his smirk filled out his cheeks as he took large steps to open the door for me.

"Thank you," I smirked, waiting and smiling as Dean smacked my ass again. He chuckled as he walked beside me.

We walked into Sam distributing the food onto the coffee table as he watched the TV. He glanced up at us with a smile. We all watched TV as we ate, occasionally commenting on the movie but mainly relaxing after quite a drive this morning and then working on the case. Dean and I would make eye contact but usually, it was stealing glances.

After a while, Dean must have gotten bored with the movie and decided to watch me instead. I clenched my thighs together instinctively as his eyes watched me intently. I took a second to compose myself before committing to the idea I had earlier. I have proof that I affect Dean as well, might as well test out the extent. I sucked my teeth, mentally preparing myself before looking at Dean. He smirked once we made eye contact. I bit my lip, looking him up and down, no longer hiding the fact I love to check him out. He's just too hot not too.

He looked surprised when my eyes met his again. He gulped, nervousness seeming to creep onto his features. I smirked as I bit my bottom lip, his eyes watched my lips intently as his breath quickened. I smirked a little wider now understanding why Dean loved to mess with me and get me flustered. I grew wetter and more confident as I watched him. He took a deep breath, his eyes moving down to my breasts. He practically growled as he realised his breath. I smirked as Sam looked at him confused.

"You good?" Sam asked, clearly concerned by the noise. I bit back a chuckle.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, I watched as he struggled to take his eyes off me. I smirked, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing as Sam looked at him like he was crazy and went back to watching the movie.

"Anyone want a beer?" I asked, purposely leaning forward to put something on the coffee table. I smirked as I could feel Dean's eyes on my cleavage. Though I looked innocent, placing something on the table, Dean and I both knew it was purposeful.

What's the point in having boobs if not for Dean to gawk at?

The boys both agreed to a beer, I stood, Dean's eyes watching my every move. I smirked as I swayed my hips temptingly as I walked to the kitchen. I opened the fridge, now out of sight of the boys. I took the time to take a deep breath to compose myself and fan of some of the cold air from the fridge onto my burning skin. I heard shuffling around and peeking around the corner. Dean was collecting the trash from food, something that was usually done by Sam.

"Thanks," Sam commented, slightly confused as Dean grabbed Sam rubbing. I hurried to grab the beers out and put them on the counter. Dean's only clearing up so he can join me in the kitchen.

"Turn it up, I don't want to miss it," Dean commented, I bit my lip as the volume of the movie went up. I focused on slowly opening the beers, purposely taking my time to be alone with Dean. Dean practically threw the trash on the counter beside me, I gasped as he grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around to face him. I smirked preparing myself to have snarky remarks and teasing words but the words never fell from his lips.

His hand found my neck, the other on my waist. He rushed to kiss me, his lips crashing onto mine as he squeezed my neck slightly. I hurried to kiss him back, the months of anticipating this moment making the kiss all the more needy. His tongue entered my mouth as our lips moved in sync. I snaked my arms around his neck as he dropped his hands to my thighs, pulling me up to sit me on the kitchen counter. I gasped against his lips, his mouth hungry for me as he pulled my body against his. His lips felt like electricity and tasted exactly how I'd hoped.

He held the back of my neck, deepening the kiss as he grabbed my ass. I moaned softly, my need for him multiplying by tenfold. He smirked against my lips, and a hand found my hair, grabbing a handful as he pulled it slightly to disconnect our lips. I breathed heavily as he glared at me. My lips felt bruised from the force we were kissing, his lips begged to be kissed again. I whimpered as I bit my lip. Watching as he smirked, his eyes devouring me. I quivered internally. I gasped as his left hand trailed down my waist, I held my breath as his hand ventured into the waistband of my joggers. Dipping inside to draw patterns on my hip bone. I gulped, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"You're going to go back." He explained slowly, his hand teasingly inching towards my wetness. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes met his. I breathed deeply as his fingers circled my clit. He pulled on my hair a little harder. "You're going to say goodbye and go to your room," He continued, I nodded quickly gulping as his fingers circled my clit slowly. "You're going to leave your door unlocked and wait for me naked on the bed," He bit his lip as his fingers slid down, and he groaned quietly. "Fuck, you're so wet," He seemed to wince before he pulled me back to his lips. Kissing his lips hungrily before he pushed two fingers inside me. He used his tongue to silence my moans. Once his fingers were as deep as he could get them he curled them inside me, pushing on the spot that made my hips automatically rotate against him. He smirked against my lips. His tongue danced with mine before he bit my bottom lip. Pulling back a little to look me deep in my eyes. My breath quivered as his fingers were relentless. He released my bottom lip, breathing heavily as he admired me. His eyes have never looked so hungry.

He breathed heavily, seeming to just be enjoying kissing me and fingering me. I bit my lip, whining slightly that I had to remain silent, something I was majorly struggling with.

"Fuck, I can't wait," He growled, his lips back on mine, tongue entering my mouth instantly. I moaned against him, his fingers moving faster, practically begging for me to cum on his hand. I clenched my thighs together, the familiar feeling of building up churned my insides. He pulled my neck closer, the kiss more needy as his lips moved with mine as if they had kissed for years. His tongue expertly dominated mine as my mind clouded with the thought of sitting on his face, his tongue working on my pussy just like how he was kissing me.

He pulled back, lips instantly finding my neck as I held my head back, giving him full access to me. He made out with my neck, his fingers finding a fast rhythm that made cuming hard to avoid. I bit my lip, silencing myself as he bit my neck.

"Biting, okay?" He whispered breathlessly. I nodded quickly. He grinned against my neck before biting on my neck between kisses. I breathed heavily. My muscles tightened as my mouth dropped open, God, I want to moan so loudly but I have to be quiet, he's still messing with me. My eyes rolled back as I gulped. A powerful orgasm is just seconds away.

"Dean," I practically whimpered.

"I know, baby." He spoke softly as his lips quickly found mine, his tongue entering my mouth to silence me. His fingers curled a little faster, pushing deeper inside me. I wanted to scream. The feeling of such intense pleasure and knowing it was Dean pleasing me, only made the orgasm harder to postpone. "Cum for me, baby," He spoke against my lips. A small moan escaped my mouth before his tongue silenced me. I breathed through my nose as the orgasm hit me like a train. His fingers worked harder through my orgasm, prolonging it as he kissed me deeply. He seemed to listen to my breathing, slowing his pace as my orgasm subsided.

My brain turned to mush as he slowly pulled his fingers out of me. His lips leaving mine to bite his bottom lip, his eyes watching mine closely as he sucked his fingers clean. Moaning quietly as his eyes rolled back at the taste. I practically gawked at his reaction, my breath stumbling to leave my chest. He opened his eyes, desire riddling them without doubt. He pulled his fingers from his mouth slowly, he raised an eyebrow at me as he moved his fingers closer to me. I opened my mouth as I stuck my tongue out. He groaned softly at the action. He pushed his fingers into my mouth slowly. Watching intently as I didn't flinch the deeper his fingers got. He bit back a moan as his knuckles reached my lips.

"I hope you slept well last night, you're going to need as much energy as you can," He commented, his voice deep with desire. His fingers quietened my moan. He slowly pulled them out. I sucked my juices from them before they left my mouth. Dean's breath quickened. "Fuck," He growled, his eyes darkening before his hand gripped my neck. His lips hovering in front of mine. "Wait in your room," He instructed before kissing me. I hurried to taste him more, knowing I would have to stop kissing him only made me crave him more. He seemed to melt into my lips, clearly not wanting to stop kissing me either. He seemed to find some self-control as he pulled back, breathing heavily and glaring at me with lust-filled eyes. "Don't even say goodbye, I can't wait that long." He instructed his lips finding mine again. He grabbed my ass with both hands. Pulling me off of the counter and holding me against him. He slowly walked to the door, still out of Sam's sight as he kissed me. His tongue pushed my tongue aside as he seemed to lose all his self-control and pushed my back against the wall. His hips pushed into mine as he squeezed my ass a little tighter.

I moaned against his lips, his throbbing erection pushing against me, driving me crazy to feel him inside me, to taste more of his skin.

"What are you doing?" Sam called into the kitchen. I gasped, forgetting Sam was here but Dean didn't care to stop kissing me straight away. His lips moved from mine to my neck. I rested my head against the wall, biting my lip to silence my moan. His hips pushed into me again.

"Y/N's going back to her room," Dean explains, his voice slightly muffled by my neck.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, concern in his tone and I knew I had to reply. God, I don't think I can. Dean smirked against my neck.

"Yeah," My voice trembled as Dean purposely pushed into me again. I glared at him as he smirked. He moved back, lips hovering over mine as he grinned triumphantly. My breathing halted as his unquivering strength continued to hold me up. His eyes watched my lips intently, clearly wanting to kiss me again. I never want him to stop kissing me.

"Okay," Sam spoke uneasily. Obviously unconvinced by my answer. Dean smirked as he remained close to me.

"I'm going to just head out, see you tomorrow," I explained, raising an eyebrow at Dean. He smirked as he slowly kissed me. It took my breath away, he was kissing me like he was in love with me, not like he was desperate to fuck me. The passion and meaning made my insides churn. The kiss alone was enough to remind me exactly why I had fallen for him before he started teasing me.

"See you tomorrow," Sam called back. Dean smiled against my lips, moving slowly as he pulled away. His eyes made my knees weak. He smiled at me as he placed me down. Holding onto me as I straightened up, making sure not to let go as my legs were shaking from the orgasm. He leaned in, lips ghosting my ear. Breath fanning my neck and sending shivers down my spine.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," He whispered, his lips kissing my cheek before pulling back to smile at me. He seemed so innocent and sincere. I gulped, nodding softly as he grinned. He kissed me again before stepping back. Opening the door for me and slapping my ass while I walked out. I giggled to myself as he closed the door behind me.

I practically ran to my room, anticipation riding my skin.

Masterlist

Working On

Taglist

[bettyfrommars]

it’s the a7x anon 😘

imagine stripper harlot reader and eddie falls for her (obviously) and he follows her to a club one night. it’s an underground club (got me thinking blood rave from blade) but shes deadly, she sucks the soul out of men in the clubs, poisons them for fun, the club is filled with different types, vampires, wolves, ghouls, but none are more desired or feared than her.

Sympathy for the Devil

eddie x demon!fem!reader

It's the mid-90's and Eddie has moved to Seattle with the rest of Corroded Coffin to get in on the music scene. He sees you one night dancing at a bachelor party and can't seem to stop thinking about you. His hunt for you takes him to a dark part of town where only monsters dare to go. wc: 2.5k

18+ONLY, grunge!eddie, descriptions of monsters, eventual smut, star-crossed lovers, Gareth, reader described as having thick hips and tattoos, exotic dancers, alcohol consumption, breathing fire. Readers dad is basically Hellboy.

Part 1: Great Balls of Fire

Part 2: Mark of the Beast

Part 3: Burn it Down

A/N: There is just so much I want to explore on this topic, I had to turn it into multiple parts. No smut in this chapter, but there will be in the next two, if there are people who want to read it. I love any reason for a good Blade blood shower. I love this anon, and I hope I did some justice to your idea.

-----------

Eddie dropped down into the dark venue on a wing and a prayer, hoping you were working that night.  He didn’t know your schedule, he only knew you from that one night two weeks ago when he was there for Jeff’s bachelor party.  

Out of a sea of beautiful, scantily clad women, you stood out like a flash of  lightning in a pitch black night.

“I can’t believe we’re here again, man,” Gareth complained, swiping his hair out of his face.

“What are you afraid of?” Eddie shouted over his shoulder, hoping to be heard above the throbbing, electronic music. His eyes scanned the crowd for you, or any one he remembered seeing you talk to that first night.  Ahead of them, down the shadowed alcove of the venue were several dancers gyrating on poles and spreading their legs out wide for customers at the rack to hook dollar bills into their g-strings.  

“I’m afraid my girl will cut my nuts off if she finds out I came here with you,” Gareth responded.  

Gareth's hair was shorter than it had been when they were in high school. It was just long enough to tuck behind his ears, but still so full and curly that he had to slick it back.  Eddie’s hair was much longer now, almost to his nipples, and he’d grown his bangs out, so it was more grunge rather than early 80’s metal.  

“We went to see Mudhoney at the Crocodile,” Eddie confirmed. “That’s all you need to tell her.  We only came here to look for someone.”  They had done exactly that, and the Mudhoney show had been amazing. Corroded Coffin’s relocation to Seattle was the best decision Eddie had ever made, and he was grateful his band made the journey with him.  They were all renting this old house on Capitol Hill and getting paying gigs a couple times a month—it was a dream.

But since he’d laid eyes on you—he could barely function.

You had bewitched him in the best of ways.  

So, there he was---dragging Gareth back to the same strip club to look for you.  He honestly didn’t expect to get your number, or even talk to you—he just needed to see you again.   

Once he reached the dimly lit red cocktail bar, Eddie froze.  “She’s not here,” he wet his dry lips, getting on the balls of his feet to scan the crowd. “I mean, I don’t see her.”

“Okay, great, "Gareth tried to avert his eyes from the women on stage so that he wouldn’t feel guilty.  “Can we go now?”

But Eddie wasn’t ready to give up that easily.  

“Hey,” he called over to one of the servers he remembered from the last time. She was about to carry a tray of drinks over to a table when she caught his eye and her face lit up.  

Eddie was awkward when he didn't want to be, but on every other occasion—he possessed a decent amount of charm.  Plus, this particular server was a fan of his band, he just didn’t know it.

Eddie stroked some hair behind his ear and leaned closer, giving her your full description, right down to the color of your eyes, and the details of a few of your tattoos, and then asked if you were working that weekend.

The server shook her head, her cheeks burning hot under Eddie's attention.  “Sorry, she’s not here. I think she’s at the Devils Den tonight.”

Eddie squinted at Gareth and the both of them mouthed “the devils den” with a question mark, like they had never heard of it in all of the 2 years they’d been there.  

The Devil’s Den did not advertise.  You could not find it in the phone book.  It was a word of mouth or friend of a friend only, and security was tight.

“Be careful,” the redhead server offered a warning, passing Eddie her phone number on the inside of a gum wrapper with a wink. Gareth rolled his eyes and headed for the door.

Eddie drove Gareth back to his car first.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with?” Gareth asked Eddie over the hood, strumming his fingers on the metal.

“Nah man, I’m good,” Eddie assured him, twirling his keys on his finger as he walked backwards. “You go home to your girl.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He remembered the directions the redhead told him as he sucked down a cigarette with the window open, blowing smoke out into the crisp city night.  It took him down through the east end of town, along a tunnel, and then shot him deep into the industrial district.  Vacant buildings loomed like faceless gargoyles as his van rolled along the dismal expanse, void of human life.

The building was unmarked, but the address was correct; he checked it with the numbers inked on his palm several times.  He parked a block away and walked over with his fists shoved deep into the pockets of his leather while scraps of paper and leaves skidded across the pavement.  His long hair flew across his lips and clung there until he peeled the strand back and tucked it behind his ear again.

He could hear the music now, thudding low from inside the building as he rounded the corner.  

There was a purple light coming from the open doorway, and a minotaur man with a thick tail and broad shoulders sat on a stool blowing smoke out his nostrils.  Eddie heard him ask the couple ahead of him to see their IDs, so Eddie got his ready.

You just happened to be on your way out for a smoke when you saw him—-

Him.

The one you couldn’t take your eyes off of two weekends ago. The grungy boy with the long hair you couldn’t stop thinking about.

What was he doing at a monster bar? Did you want him to see you like this? 

Self-consciously, you spun around, ducking your head so he wouldn’t see your horns, wondering if you should try to cover them with your hood and retract your claws. 

Eddie handed the Minotaur bouncer his ID.

“What the fuck you want me to do with this?” The bouncer asked, aggressively standing up to his full height which was close to 7ft.  His voice bellowed, “no humans allowed, can’t you read?” Sure enough, there was a black and white sign on the door that said: NO UNAUTHORIZED HUMANS ALLOWED.

Eddie tucked his ID back in his wallet, about to offer to try and pay the guy off when he saw you appear in the doorway.

“Oh shit,” Eddie whispered to himself.  You were even more stunning than the night he first saw you. Now you have horns? He hadn't noticed them the other weekend at the club; maybe you had them tucked under your wig. He could tell you were different, but he had no idea you were what was known in human circles as a Beastly.  

“He’s with me,” you told the enormous Minotaur man, and Eddie watched him cower before you.  He sat back down on his stool and bowed his head, muttering his apologies.  

He had to remember not to let his jaw hang slack as you walked closer, swaying your hips as you did so, plucking a cigarette out of the pack to pop it into your mouth.  He noticed that what he once thought were tattoos were actually designs that seemed like they were burned into your flesh; they glowed orange in the night as if there was lava flowing in your veins.  

Eddie patted his jacket and his back pockets, forgetting where he put his lighter. Once he found it, his hand was trembling, but he took a breath and cupped his palm over the flame, leaning forward to offer it to you.

You hesitated, searching his rich brown eyes.  His very human eyes: you wanted to watch them sparkle.  “Do you want to see something cool?”

Eddie lowered his hands and poked his tongue out between his teeth. “Always.”

“It might freak you out,” you warned.

“I love getting freaked out.”

You held the cigarette out and blew on the end of it, producing a string of fire from your lungs.  It was a soft, blue flame and Eddie watched the tip of your smoke light up and crackle with embers just as the fire disappeared behind your lips again.

“Party trick,” you took a drag, squinting one eye at him playfully.  

“Can you do mine?” Eddie opened the top pocket of his jacket to pull out a smoke from his pack, while a few more bodies shuffled by on their way to the door.  Two had chalk white skin with fangs, one had the snout of a pig and a green mohawk, and the other looked like she could’ve passed as human, until she stuck her tongue out at one of the other men and it was long and forked, falling almost to her chest.  

They each gave Eddie a suspicious look, but when they saw you standing there, they quickly jerked their stares away.

Eddie gripped the cig between his full lips, and his eyes never left you as you leaned in.  You could’ve produced a flame long enough to reach him where he was, but you decided to step in close, so that your mouth wasn’t far from his.

Your eyes met as you breathed a steady stream of fire.  The thought occurred to you that you could take him right then; you could suck his soul out like juice from a Capri Sun and he’d never know what hit him.  You could drink his essence like oxygen and fill your stomach with his charming warmth—but then you wouldn’t have him anymore, and your heart was screaming louder than your hunger.  

“That’s so rad,” Eddie chuckled.  He took a drag and then blew the smoke out sideways.  “What other tricks do you know?”

“I think it’s your turn to do a trick,” you raised an eyebrow. 

“What could a human possibly do to impress you?”

“I’m sure there are lots of ways you could impress me,” your smile was coy, and it made Eddie’s pupils widen with admiration.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

But then one of the ghouls with skin that looked stapled on stepped out of the doorway and said your name.  

“What is it?” You snapped.  Your demeanor changed—your eyes narrowing on her.  

“Sorry,” the ghoul stammered.  “Um, it’s Drucilla—she says there’s a phone call for you.”

“I’ll be right there,” you grumbled, waving her off, but when you turned back to Eddie, your face softened.  “I have to go.  If you’re around later we can—-”

“Yeah, I’ll wait,” Eddie said quickly.  He didn’t know how long the wait would be, and he didn’t care.

You motioned for him to follow you inside, and as he entered, the Minotaur bouncer grumbled: “Sorry about earlier, man.”

“It’s all good,” Eddie clapped him on his big, beefy shoulder.

There was a band at the back of the venue playing something that reminded him of Alice in Chains, and Eddie felt right at home.  Everyone turned in his direction, and he followed close behind as you traveled down a few carpeted steps to the long, low-lit bar along the wall.  Your tail flicked from side to side as you walked, and he smiled to himself when he noticed it.  

You swatted the bar with your hand to get Danny’s attention.  The wolfman bartender stopped the conversation he was having mid-sentence and rushed over, a furry hand swiping hair away from his beard.  

“He’s with me,” you told Danny, motioning over your shoulder to a bewildered Eddie.  “Anyone fucks with him, and I’ll rip their head off.”

You meant it literally, and Danny knew that.  

“I’ll keep an eye on your pet,” Danny nodded as he cleaned a glass with a towel.  He made eye contact with Eddie and ran his tongue over his sharp canines.

Eddie sank down onto a stool at the bar and watched you go, his heart hammering in his chest.  There were two exotic dancers in cages on either side of the dancefloor, and one looked like she had reptilian skin with an alligator tail.  The action on the main floor was more of a mosh pit than actual dancing, and he knew the guys from his band would dig this place.  He wondered what you would think of his music if you saw him perform; maybe he could do a few tricks for you on stage. He wanted to look out and see you in the crowd and know you were his.

“What can I get you?” Danny asked, flipping a coaster in front of Eddie with a flourish.  

Flustered at his choices, Eddie ordered a beer, and then he leaned in.  “Hey, what is her story? Why does everyone seem so…afraid of her?”

“You mean you don’t know who she is?” Danny raised both bushy eyebrows at him as he popped the cap on his beer. 

Eddie shrugged, eyes dancing over the wall of bottles.  “I have no idea, man.  This isn’t my scene.”

Danny came forward and put his hairy forearms on the bar.  “Yeah well, her dad is the head Devil in charge of all of this,” he gestured around.  “He runs the underground Beast Mob, and everyone is scared shitless of him.”  Danny scooted Eddie’s beer forward, giving him a pointed look.  “And you should be too.  He hates humans.”

Eddie swallowed hard.  “I’m pretty good with parents,” he mumbled. 

He sat there for a while and sipped his beer, taking in the scenery and the other monsters, when he caught sight of you weaving your way back through the crowd.  Everyone you walked by seemed to beg to touch you or talk to you; a couple of them even bowed.  He wanted to have you on his arm, to feel the fire from your lungs burn his skin.

“Hey,” the person behind Eddie tapped his shoulder, and Eddie spun around to find an orc-looking guy with two tusks jutting up from his bottom teeth.  

“Yeah, man, what’s up?” 

The orc glanced over Eddie’s shoulder at you, and then regarded him with a serious gaze.  “Be careful with that one, son.  She will feast on your soul and drain you dry.”

Eddie turned to see you watching him from across the way, and you offered a shy wave.  Your short horns looked sharp and ready for battle; the marks in your skin glowed like neon.

Eddie sighed wistfully.  “Damn, I really hope so.”

[thesightstoshowyou]

Re: milestone event, maybe a continuation of your Tommy fic where one night the reader wakes up all hot thinking of him and finally seeks him out in the middle of the night to take care of it seeing as unfortunately he has yet to bust into the room to take them? Your fic for Tommy and Jason are my FAV just *mwah* fantastic I didn't realize I was into Tommy until you

I like the way you think anon ;)

Sweet Dreams

Thomas Hewitt x F Reader (NSFW)

Part 3

Read Part 2 here

Summary: You wake in the night burning with need. You seek Tommy out, earn his trust, and he repays you in kind. RIP to other guys but Thomas Hewitt is different.

Warnings: FLUFF holy shit, so much fluff, oral, praise kink, squirting, creampie

             Hands, thick, strong hands caress your thighs, spreading you open as you cling to burly shoulders, sweat spilling from your brow until you taste salt on your lips—

             Your eyes pop open. Moonlight spills through the curtains, the only light illuminating your dark room. It’s starting to feel less like a prison cell with every day that passes, but this thought does not bring you comfort. Very little comforts you here, in this house, in this rotting town. Only one thing, one person, prevents you from actively trying to escape….

             You’d dreamt of him again. You grind your thighs together, trying to relieve the deep ache these excruciatingly vivid dreams bring. You have no idea how late it is, or how early. A sigh rushes past your lips. There’s no way anyone is up at this hour and you’re locked in your room until morning. God, you long to go to him.

             The stomp of heavy footfalls coming down the hall reaches your ears. You’d recognize those steps anywhere. Thomas….

             Ripping the covers off your sweaty form, you leap from the bed and cross the room in a flash. Gently, you knock on the door, not wishing to wake anyone else.

             “Tommy?” You ask quietly, praying he hears you. The footsteps abruptly pause just outside your door. You hold your breath as you hear rustling. The lock clicks.

             You step out of the way, letting the door swing open. Thomas fills your doorway, hair still damp from a shower, wearing nothing but a pair of slacks. And the damn mask, of course. It looks as though he’d just thrown it on so he could open your door, one of the straps half-clasped. He’s watching you closely, furrow in his brow, most likely worried something is wrong.

             “Hi,” you whisper with a small smile, “I’m okay. Just wanted to see you.” Thomas glances shyly away at your words and you take the opportunity to drag your gaze over his brawny shoulders, shoulders you’d just been dreaming about digging your nails into. You flush at the memory, suddenly nervous to ask for what you want.

             Instead you close the distance between you, hesitantly reaching up to run your fingers along the slit in Thomas’ mask, brushing the digits over his lips. He tenses, hands coming up to settle timidly on your hips Do you dare…?

             “Tommy,” you whisper, meeting his anxious stare. This is such a sensitive topic. How do you broach the subject without upsetting him? You swallow, “Tommy, I want to kiss you…without this.” You lay your hand against his cheek, thumb stroking the leather of his mask.

             As you’d guessed, his eyes widen and he immediately steps away from you, shaking his head and turning to leave. Anxiously, you bite your lip, slipping your hand into his to keep him from fleeing.

             “Tommy, you have no idea how bad I want you right now. All the time, actually,” you say quickly with a breathy laugh, “How bad I want all of you.” Thomas meets your gaze over his shoulder and you can see he’s frowning again, like he can’t believe you. Your heart breaks, chest constricting painfully.

             You move to him again, pushing up on your tip toes to press your lips to his shoulder before moving to his neck. Deeply, you inhale the sharp scent of his soap as you nuzzle your nose just under his ear. Your hands roam across his chest, fingers tracing all the scars littering his torso. Thomas shudders, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him. He clings to you like a lifeline, just like he had that first day in the cellar.

             “You’re not gonna scare me away. I need you, Tommy, so, so bad. I love the way you make me feel. You…you don’t have to show me right now, but I hope that, someday, you will.”

             Thomas moves to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his huge palms. He searches your expression, your eyes, looking for a lie, for any hint of teasing. You meet his gaze, willing him to feel your sincerity. Blue eyes drop to your lips and he frowns again. You can see him thinking, weighing the pros and cons.

             He must not find what he’s looking for because you see his eyes soften. Tommy lets out a tremulous breath and you give him a small, reassuring smile. Slowly, so slowly, as though his hands weigh a thousand pounds each, he reaches up to unbuckle the strap of his mask. You grip his shoulders to quiet his trembling.

             Finally, Thomas lowers the mask from his face. You are hyper-aware of your expression, knowing Tommy will miss nothing. You keep your face passive, blank as you examine the missing nose, the lesions and scar tissue along the side of his mouth, his cheek. You wonder what caused it; a deformity? A disease?

             Truthfully, you’d expected much worse. You’d been imagining the potential horrors under that mask from day one. It’s anticlimactic, really.

             Thomas isn’t looking at you. He’s so tense, shoulders bunched under your hands, his eyes fixed on a spot past your left shoulder. You tip your head to the side, cupping his cheek and gently forcing him to meet your gaze. You smile warmly, bringing your other hand up to trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

             “Can I kiss you now, Tommy?” you whisper. Thomas blinks, astonished. He lets out another huge breath and you realize he’d been holding it this hold time. You nod, assuring him you mean the truth, and pop up on your toes again to meet him halfway.

             Shaking, Thomas wraps his arms around you again and presses his lips to yours. You sigh into his mouth, glad to have the barrier gone. You sigh becomes a squeak and a giggle when Tommy lifts you off your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, clinging to him like he does you. The mask lays at his feet, forgotten.

             “Take me to your room?” you murmur, brushing his hair out of the way to kiss the shell of his ear. You don’t have to ask twice. Tommy carries you down the hall, moving as silently as he can so as not to alert anyone else in the house.

             Once safely inside his room, dark but for the moonlight bathing the room in soft light, Thomas gently sets you on the edge of his bed, hurrying across the room to close the door before promptly returning to you. You spread your thighs so he can kneel between them and you pull him flush against you, peppering his bare face with kisses, ending at his lips so you can slip your tongue in his mouth.

             He’s clumsy at first, but Tommy once again proves to be a fast learner, lips and tongue matching your earnest movements. You break away to catch your breath, grinning wide. Biting your lip, you tug your shirt over your head, slowly, so you can make a show of it.

           Reverently, Thomas smooths the palms of his hands up your abdomen, cupping your breasts and timidly leaning in to capture a nipple with his lips. He gives the hardening flesh an experimental suck and you release a hushed moan, fingers tangling in his hair to encourage him.

             He moves to the other side, repeating the action until you buck your hips into him, a whispered, “Oh fuck,” spilling from your parted lips. Eagerly, Thomas eases your shorts off your hips, tossing them away and scooping up handfuls of your ass to pull you to the very edge of the bed. He wastes no time before burying his face between your parted thighs.

             You must clap your hand over your mouth to stifle the surprised moan when Tommy drags his tongue through your folds. He remembers what you like from your teaching session that first day in the cellar. Shockingly fast, he finds your clit and teases it with his tongue. He sucks, licks with the tip and then the flat of his tongue, experiments with different techniques until he finds the ones that makes you squeal behind your hand.

             You cum like that, hand in his hair, Thomas’ fingers digging into your hips while you buck into his mouth. You shudder, legs quivering, toes tingling, cunt dripping onto the floor. Dazedly, you wonder how long he’d been waiting to do that, as enthusiastic as he was.

             “Oh my god, Tommy,” you gasp, sitting up and pulling him into another heated kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, swallow his needy whine. Hastily, you urge him to stand, popping the button on his pants and shoving them off his hips.

             You scoot back on the bed, pulling him by the hand at the same time until he’s hovering over you. You’re worried you’re going to burn up, your skin ablaze everywhere he touches you. He lifts your hips off the mattress and begins the measured process of pushing his maddeningly thick cock past your soaked folds.

             Your hand returns to your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist, arching your back when Thomas stuffs you completely full of him. You twitch, free hand fisting in the sheets when he rolls his hips, the incredible stretch now more addictive than painful. You meet his gaze as much as you can in the dark, nodding your head to urge him on.

             “Yes, Tommy, please, so g-good, oh god, just like that,” you whisper, quickly biting down on your lip to stifle a cry when Thomas’ grip tightens and he bucks his hips forward. The hand in the sheets flies to the headboard to keep you from sliding up the mattress as Tommy starts pummeling your insides, using his grip on your waist to pull you into each thrust.

             It’s so hard not to scream, not to wake everyone else in the house when every nerve in your body is alight with sensation, pleasure coiling so intensely in your gut you wonder if you’ll burst. Tommy groans at the feeling of your slippery muscles fluttering around him and that is enough to send you plummeting into ecstasy.

             You come undone, unravelling at the seams, back arching, cunt gushing around the cock that fills it so completely. You bite the palm of your hand to quiet the euphoric shriek that erupts from your throat. Thomas emits a strangled moan as his hips stutter before slamming forward, hilting himself as he fills you to the brim.

             Tommy lowers you back to the mattress before tipping forward, hands braced on either side of your head. You crane your neck, bringing your lips to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down so he rests between your trembling thighs. You chuckle quietly when he sets his forehead against yours, his panting breaths washing over your sweat slicked face.

             “You’re getting too good at that,” you murmur, giggling when he huffs out a laugh. Thomas rolls to the side, pulling you to his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. Gradually, his breathing slows, the deep, rhythmic inhales and exhales lulling you, making your eyelids droop.

             It’s easy to fall asleep in Tommy’s arms. You’ve never felt more secure. You let your eyes fall shut and, before long, you join him in sleep.

[pilothusband]

A lit torch to the woodpile high (part 3)

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: M (this one gets spicy folks)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (they work in a bar), pining, death/grief mention, masturbation, fantasies of p in v sex, Paz puts himself in horny jail, light smut 

Word count: 3.1k

Description: This one is purely self-indulgent. You decide to up the ante and make Paz’s life (and other parts of him) hard. Harlow is a lil shit, but we love for for it.

Author’s note: I’m still not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I’ve been working on it for far too long. Lightly edited, unbeta’d. Please go here to be added to the taglist! This one goes out to my pal May. Missing you on my dash. Hope you see this update and enjoy it 🥰

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

He couldn’t get you out of his head. It was maddening.

It had been a long time since anyone had stirred these kinds of feelings up for him, and he doesn’t recall it ever hitting him like a freight train.

He used to think of life in two absolutes: Before he lost everything and After, when he had to pick up the pieces. Now he was starting to think there was more to it, that those absolutes were just parts of him.

If only he wasn’t such a miserable bastard. You were the light in a dark sky. Not just for him, for everyone. He saw the delighted smile that was plastered on Rick’s face after you walked in every day and asked him how his grandchildren were doing, if his wife’s knee was feeling any better.

Paz noticed the change in Harlow’s demeanor now that she had a friend who could build her up when she talked about her dreams. Hell, Madge snuck you food every chance she got, and she only ever did that for him.

He found himself lying awake in bed tonight, as usual, trying to calm the stream of thought that entered his head. Before you, he only could ever think about the ghosts of his past. People he had loved and lost.

But now? Now as he closed his eyes, he saw your eyes, sparkling with delight. Your lips, in a pout, then stretched over a brilliant smile.

The delicate curve of your neck and shoulder. Your ass. He groaned out loud. God, your ass was out of this world. The way it moved when you bent over to grab a dish towel from the bottom shelf. He always had to look away before his thoughts got away from him, or else his mind would wander and he would imagine snaking his arms over yours and caging you to the bar, rolling his hips into yours. You would wiggle your ass against him and throw your head back to see his reaction.

Fuck. Now he was hard. Every time this happened, he would either watch some porn or force himself to think of a woman he didn’t know, someone who he dreamed up in his head.

But no faceless stranger or actress could quite do it for him like you would. He could feel his self control crumbling as he reached into his boxer briefs and fisted his aching cock, taking it out and letting it sit heavy against his stomach, straining with need.

He ran a finger up the underside, imagining it was you teasing him, getting acquainted with how hot and hard he was for you. He let himself picture you, naked and in between his legs, stroking him gently, watching him come apart underneath you. Ideally, he’d flip you over and dive face first into your cunt, lapping wide stripes at your slick folds with his tongue, then sucking your clit into his mouth. He would wait until you’re mewling under him, then he’d plunge a finger into you, stretching you around his finger and adding another. He’d wait until you came in his mouth at least twice before he fucked you. He’d have you begging for his cock, so slick with need it dripped down your thighs.

In this part of the fantasy, you’re so feral for him, your eyes bright and wide looking up at him with hunger, that he acquiesces, and you climb onto his lap and bounce up and down on his cock.

He was stroking himself faster now, feeling so close to the edge. He grit his teeth, growling your name as he came all over his fist, spurts reaching up his stomach, almost all the way to his chest.

As soon as he came to his senses, he sighed, feeling disgusted with himself.

There was a moment in the bed of his truck that night, where you had stared at him, your gaze flickering down to his mouth as you licked your bottom lip. It was just a small flash of your tongue– but it gave him hope for a moment. He had hope that someone as beautiful and kind as you could see through the darkness within him, see the guy he used to be before he lost everything.

But that part of Paz died, along with the family he cared so deeply for. The remaining ones scattered to the wind, unable to carry on pretending like everything hadn’t changed.

He sighed deeply, getting up to wash the shame off himself. At least he’d sleep soundly tonight and dream of a reality where he could hold you in his arms.

Paz seemed to be in higher spirits lately, following your chat in his office. It wasn’t like he skipped into the room and had birds fluttering around his head, like a Disney princess, but he didn’t snap at anyone who made eye contact with him, so it was a noticeable difference.

That was the hot topic conversation of the day, especially for Harlow. She couldn’t get over the 360 change that seemingly happened overnight.

“So, did you doink the grumpy out of him or what?” Harlow asked. She was leaning over the bar, looking at you expectantly with her hands under her chin.

“Of course not!” You said, a little too loudly. “There has not, and will not be any doinking, ever.”

“This sounds like work appropriate conversation,” a deep voice drawled. 

You both spun around, not expecting to see him standing in the doorway, his eyebrow arched. He was clearly unimpressed.

“I’m going to go clean the bathrooms,” Harlow said, dashing out back. Fucking traitor.

You prayed to the almighty maker that the floor would open up and swallow you whole, but there was no such luck in store for you today.

“Hey Paz,” you said, trying to sound casual, as if Harlow hadn’t been talking about your non-existent sex life.

“Hey you,” he said, mimicking your tone. “I actually came out here to ask you if you could swap a shift with Harlow next Friday. I fucked up and scheduled her on a day she requested off. You’d get Sunday off in return.”

“Sure,” you agreed, nodding. “I don’t have any plans.”

“You don’t have any plans to ‘doink’ anyone that night?” He teased.

You could feel your face heating up in embarrassment.

“Not unless you know any willing volunteers.” 

Paz barked out a laugh.

“I might know a guy,” he said, a smirk etched on his handsome face.

You both cursed and thanked the powers above that a customer decided to walk in right at that moment. Of course it was Bob. He usually was the first to come in and one of the last to leave.

Not wanting to lose whatever contest was going on (real or perceived), you gave Paz a coy smile and leaned over the bar to take Bob’s order, making sure you poked your ass out further than necessary.

You couldn’t see Paz’s reaction, but when he exited without so much of a goodbye, you gave yourself an internal fist pump.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to (potentially) break a dress code at work, but in your defense it was hotter than the surface of the sun, and internal temperature of the bar only seemed to get higher as the night went on.

Also, maybe it would be an added bonus if you got to torture a giant, brooding bartender in the process.

You felt pretty proud of your decision to wear your thinnest bralette, squeeze into your smallest pair of shorts, paired with a t-shirt that was just a little too small.

Of course your car decided to stall 3 times on the way to work, and your AC was busted so you walked in 15 minutes late, already feeling like a frizzy, sweaty mess. Your entrance wasn’t as grand as you were hoping, feeling like your half-assed attempt at makeup had already melted off your face, and the black v-neck you wore was clinging to you in all the wrong places, mainly your sweaty back and right under your bra.

In your rush to clock in before the 20-minute mark, you crashed right into Paz, almost falling and landing on your ass. Paz, of course, barely moved a centimeter. His hand shot out, grabbing you by the shoulder to hold you steady.

“Woah there, small fry, be careful,” he murmured. His hand was large and warm. You had to take a deep breath to get a hold of yourself.

“Paz, I’m so sorry I’m late. My fucking car stalled out on the way and–” you started babbling, pushing your sweaty mane back, praying he couldn’t see the sweat stains on your shirt.

“It’s okay, shit happens. You need someone to look at your car? I know a guy.” He was leaning forwards to get a better look at you, looking concerned. You had trouble controlling how fast your heart was beating and your lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. It was plain bizarre, the affect this man had on you with a simple gesture.

I know a guy. Your cheeks felt warm remembering the last time he uttered that sentence.

You had expected him to get angry with you for being late. Hell, you remember the gruff tone he gave you on your first day when he said to show up on time.

“I- I um,” you were having a hard time coming up with words, too distracted by the sensation of Paz’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder, brushing against your collar bone. Despite the heat, you felt goosebumps rise on your flesh and your nipples instantly pebbled. You stole a quick glance down to make sure it wasn’t obvious. Shit, it totally was.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he replied. Had his voice dropped a few octaves or were you just imagining it?  He removed his hand from your shoulder, much to your chagrin, and backed up a little, giving you a once-over.

“Go ahead and clock in and give yourself a couple minutes to get settled. It should be slow today,” he gave you a soft smile.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, giving him a shy smile in return.

It was about 3 hours into your 8 hour shift and it was dead. There wasn’t a single customer in sight. It wasn’t that surprising, given it was a Tuesday, but God were you bored. It was just you and Paz tonight, with Paz sending Madge home (with pay) and no one else being scheduled.

You didn’t really mind, though, figuring it was a good time to get to know Paz better. He was wiping the already clean bar down for the fifth time that night, really driving the bartender stereotype home.

“You’re going to start wearing the varnish down at this rate,” you laughed, gesturing at the rag in his hand.

He looked down, shaking his head in a playfully exasperated way and let out an embarrassed huff of laughter.

“Alright, how do you suggest we pass the time?”

“How about 20 questions?”

Paz immediately groaned in protest.

“Oh shut up, you big baby, I’ll answer first. Go ahead,” you cocked your chin at him. “Got any questions you’re dying to ask me?”

“Why did you apply for a job here?”

Your first instinct was to deflect, but you did suggest this game, and figured you just had to bite the bullet and answer honestly.

“To be honest, I still haven’t figured out what I want to do,” you explained. “I know, kind of pathetic for someone my age. I took a bartending class at the local adult learning center, got a certificate and just kind of walked in here and asked for an application on a whim.”

Paz could sense your discomfort, how you were ashamed that you hadn’t found your way yet. It was something he could identify with, in a way.

“That’s not pathetic at all,” he said, crossing his arms. “Plenty of people don’t know what they want to do at your age.”

You shrugged, not wanting to continue the subject.

“Boxers or briefs?”

Paz arched an eyebrow, his ever-present sign of judgement coming through.

“That’s what you’re dying to ask me?”

“No, but I figured I’d warm you up first,” you said, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Boxer briefs. Favorite color?”

“Blue. Where did you grow up?”

Paz’s casual expression faltered at the question. 

“Far away. I’d rather not get into it today, if you don’t mind.” The easy smile vanished from your face, replacing it with a nod of understanding.

“That’s totally fine, Paz. I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you sat down at a table, and gestured at the chair across from you, signaling him to sit down. You wanted him to feel at ease around you.

“You and your apologies,” Paz said, a look of fond disbelief on his face. “You have nothing to apologize for, mesh’la.”

A beat of silence passed, waiting for Paz to think of a question. You wanted to ask him what that word he had called you meant, but you had a feeling he would dodge the question.

“Who were you and Harlow talking about yesterday?” Paz rested his chin in his hand, giving you a shit-eating grin. He must have known the answer already, given the smug look on his face.

You felt the color drain out of your face. 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” You countered. In the back of your mind, you thought you probably shouldn’t have talked back to your boss, but his smile didn’t waver. In fact, it only got wider.

“That doesn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” he drawled, stretching his legs and crossing one over the other.

“Harlow,” you thought of a way to word this without incriminating yourself or your friend. But screw it, she had opened her big mouth in the first place. “Harlow thinks there’s something going on between you and me.”

You briefly wondered if his facial muscles were used to this kind of workout, with the grin that refused to let up.

“And your answer was basically, ‘ew no’, ouch,” he chuckled.

“It’s not like– ugh. Fuck you.” You hid your face in your hands. He laughed harder. You had to do something to flip this around, gain back a little power over the situation.

Oh. An evil thought entered your brain. You removed your hands from your face and smirked. Paz was still grinning, but you saw a hint of fear in his eyes.

“Pray tell, what would you have preferred I said?”

Paz leaned back in his chair and regarded you for a moment. It seemed you had thrown him through a loop. You couldn’t help but feel pleased with yourself.

But then he leaned forward, placing both of his large hands on the table, a hungry look in his eyes.

“You can say whatever you want to Harlow,” he said, his voice even but significantly huskier than usual. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t lie to yourself.”

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest any second now. You weren’t sure if he was being serious and it was making your head spin.

A sound came from the kitchen, snapping you both out of the moment. You sprung apart, despite having a table between your bodies.

“Okay lovebirds, I’m heading home.” It was Madge, standing by the kitchen doors, snickering at your antics.

“Night, Madge,” Paz called. 

You waved feebly and offered a weak “goodnight” at her retreating figure.

It had been too quiet since she had left. Paz seemed unwilling to continue the conversation, opting to brood silently. You muttered something about getting a head start on inventory and retreated into the dusty storage closet to pretend you were counting inventory. Though, you didn’t bring a pen and paper with you, so really you just went out back to stare at a bunch of kegs and liquor bottles, hoping they would miraculously answer all of the questions that were whirring through your brain.

You must have been staring at a bottle of Hennessy for at least a full 5 minutes when the door opened. Paz looked absolutely wrecked. His hair was mussed up, as if he had been running his fingers through it. His chest was heaving as if he had just sprinted a mile.

“Paz.” His name came out of your mouth like a prayer. You weren’t sure what you were asking of him, but you knew you needed him to act.

He stepped closer, slowly, as if he was afraid the floor would open up from under his feet.

“Tell me to stop.” Paz was just inches away now, caging you into the shelves behind you with his arms.

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” You asked, tipping your chin up to look at him.

He growled and tangled his fingers in your hair, kissing you with fervor.

Despite the ferocity of his kiss, his lips were so soft, so pliant. You moaned and licked into his mouth needing to taste him. Paz moaned, pushing you into the shelves further. 

“You drive me crazy,” he panted, pressing his forehead to yours. You responded by capturing his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him back to your mouth. You were rewarded with a low groan and a push of his hips.

He was hard. That knowledge sent you into a haze. You needed him closer. Your arms went around his shoulders, kneading and pulling him in. He broke the kiss and peppered smaller kisses on your jaw, then down your neck.

“You wear these tiny little shorts and tight shirt to torture me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He nibbled at your collar bone, hitting a spot that had you throwing your head back against the shelves.

“Yes,” you chuckled breathlessly.

“Mmm, knew it,” he answered, running his hands down your back, down to your ass, giving it a generous squeeze that had you mewling.

“I’ve been hard all fucking day, seeing you waltz around in those shorts, with your nipples hard, begging to be sucked.”

He rubbed his thumb over one of your nipples, causing it to pebble. Paz swallowed your gasp with his mouth, giving you another searing kiss.

Reality came rearing its ugly head in the form of the front door opening. Paz huffed and pressed his forehead to yours, hands coming around your hips to help you off the shelf.

“Duty calls,” he sighed, reaching his hand down into his jeans to adjust himself. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Paz exited the closet, strolling out and greeting the customer as if nothing had just happened, while you stole a few moments to yourself to get your bearings.

It was going to be a long night.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @recklessworry @cannedsoupsucks @pocket-pudding @simping-for-clones @gallowsjoker @idiotonastar @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @devanthus @legally-a-bastard @my-awakened-ghost @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @sheresh0y​ @starlite41​

[putas-in-suffering]

Mermaid

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, rough sex (slapping/manhandling), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, female ejaculation, some non-con elements, degradation (name calling), Dark/Dom Miguel, think Miguel and Emily’s fucked up vibe in that one scene...you know the one 😏

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Part 2. Miguel finds out about your tryst with Bishop and things take a dangerous turn.

A/N: Sucias! We got a present for you! We got Part 2 for our previously published Bishop fic Terms of Endearment. Check it out because it does tie in with this one. Also, it has Bishop smut. This has our Cartel Daddy hella mad and hella ready to destroy the pussy. Prepare yourselves because Miguel ain’t about to take it easy on you. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

*Read Part 3 here!

(Gif credit to @angels-reyes​​)

You flinched again when Miguel slammed his drink down, the sound angry and stern. He’d been in a bad mood since the moment you’d arrived nearly an hour ago. He’d called you earlier today and requested your presence at his home. He said he wanted to talk something over and insisted on having dinner prepared. You’d hesitated, flashes of letting Bishop Losa fuck you in a storage closet racing through your head. You could tell something was weighing heavy on Miguel’s mind, but you’d let it go and acquiesced to meeting him. Before Miguel was your employer, he was your best friend. And as much as you wanted to call it a night, you went anyway.

After the factory, you’d made more rounds, overseeing the operation and reporting back to Miguel via text. Once you’d gotten the stoic invitation for dinner, you’d raced home and showered the Mayans MC president off your skin. You ignored the pull to relive those memories as your fingers grazed your body, halting on the areas that Bishop had gripped so fiercely. There weren’t any visible markings, but you didn’t need to see it to know it had been there. You could still feel it.

You’d redressed for your impromptu dinner in a silk golden dress. The sleeves were long, the waist cinched, the skirt flowing over your hips and stopping around your ankles. There was a slit down the side, breaking up what would be a normally stylish conservative dress. You had yet to wear it. It was a gift from Miguel for your birthday a few months ago. You weren’t sure why you suddenly felt the need to wear it, but you’d be lying if you said guilt had no part in it. What you’d done was reckless and irresponsible, and if Miguel found out…well guilt would be the last thing you’d feel.

Another harsh clang of silverware pulled you from your thoughts. You winced as Miguel took a forceful bite of his steak, chewing with all the intensity of a caged pit bull. Beyond pleasantries, you hadn’t spoken to each other. The air was obviously tense, the mood uncomfortable. Miguel had purposefully made it that way. And you weren’t sure why.

“You look beautiful.”

The words made you pause mid-chew. Your eyes found Miguel’s staring back at you, his gaze somewhat softened but no less intense. He cleared his throat as he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, sipping from the amber liquid in his crystal glass.

“Uh, thank you.” You replied dumbly, still caught off guard by his choice in topic.

“The dress I bought you?”

You nodded, watching as he lent back in his seat to appraise you. You shifted awkwardly, feeling something simmering just beneath the surface. The house was empty, the staff dismissed for the night. The space was dimly lit. The reflection of the pool just beyond the glass doors was the only light outside. It should’ve been relaxing, romantic even, but the rigidity of the night was fast bleeding out and all over the white linen cloth that adorned the table.

“I have quite an eye. Fits you perfectly.” He continued on, swishing the whiskey in his glass.

“You do.”

“Why now?” He questioned, brow arched in your direction.

You straightened, the food on your plate long forgotten as you reached for your own glass. You swallowed the bitter liquid, the burn doing little to ease your frayed nerves. You weren’t afraid of Miguel, but you were afraid of the things he could do. You’d seen him at his worst and while you never expected to feel that kind of wrath directed at you, you couldn’t say it was impossible. You’d obviously done something to upset him. And you had an inkling of what that might be.

“Just felt right. Thought you’d like to see it.” You replied with a smile, hoping to convince both him and yourself.

Miguel returned the tight smile with his own, nodding as he adjusted the gold cuff links on his left wrist.

“I’ve known you a long time. Verdad?” He asked, the tone letting you know that it wasn’t a question that really needed an answer.

You did anyway.

“Yes.”

“And just like I’m sure you know me, I know you.”

Again it wasn’t something that needed verification, but you nodded in confirmation.

“I’ve let you run things on your own. I’ve let you manage without my supervision. I’ve entrusted you with delicate matters.”

Your breathing began to escalate with every word he spoke. He was calm, his demeanor almost peaceful as he met your eyes. His lips were quirked into a smirk, but you could see the hard ridge of his jaw beneath the well-groomed facial hair. He was clenching the muscle. And you knew from experience what that meant. He was actively trying to contain himself. Your gaze quickly shifted to his fingers, seeing that he was circling them on the tablecloth. Miguel had tells like everyone else and they were beaming in neon back at you. He was mad, no…livid.

“Miguel, what’s this about?” You dared to ask. You didn’t want to play this game with him. You’d seen it enacted out on many before you, none of it ever ending well for the person opposite Miguel Galindo. But you weren’t just some lowlife. You were his friend, practically his family. How dare he treat you like a traitor? You’d given your life to his business…to him.

“I’m not stupid, sirenita.” He bit back, intentionally using your childhood nickname. He usually said it with affection, but such was not the case this time. He was mocking the title, mocking you.

“And you think I am?” You retorted angrily, done playing nice.

“You must be to have let a man like Bishop Losa fuck you in my factory.” Miguel seethed, leaning across the table so that you could see the veins of his neck protruding from the crisp white collar of his shirt.

You’d been expecting the words, but shock seized you nonetheless. Having Miguel confront you about your sexual exploits made you feel childish and small. He glared at you with such disappointment that you could practically taste the sour flavor in your mouth.

“You must be fucking stupid to forget that I have every inch of that place bugged and under video surveillance. Even the storage closets.”

As much as you tried to fight it, you looked down in shame. He was right. You were stupid. In that moment you’d let lust fuel your decisions. But that didn’t mean that he got to disrespect you and treat you like a common whore. You’d seen plenty of his men come through the ranks and fuck on the job. And while it was a problem, it was also mostly laughed off. Men will be men bullshit. Fuck that.

“Who I fuck is none of your business.”

Miguel laughed, though it was obvious he found no humor in the situation. He scratched at his chin, his eyes darting everywhere except to you.

“You think that’s what this is about?”

“I know it is.” You said as you jutted your chin, no longer allowing him to reprimand you like some teenager.

He startled you by rising from his chair, slowly walking to you with measured steps. He said nothing at first as he perched on the edge of the table beside you, looking down at you. Just how he wanted it. He reached for you chin, but you jerked away. He wasn’t deterred. He repeated the action and this time you let him.

“You let him defile you. Let him make a mockery of me while you laughed. Your loyalty is now in question.” He whispered. His touch was gentle, but his words cut like a knife.  And they stung.

You jerked out of his grip, eyes wide with disbelief. Miguel had never talked to you in such a way. He’d never treated you so viciously. He’d always respected you. Always looked out for you. He took care of you, making sure you always had what you needed. He never once made you feel as low as you did in that moment. He may not get his hands dirty anymore, but he didn’t need to. His words were his weapons. They always had been. You’d just never been the one to take the hit before.

“You can’t be serious?” You asked, shaking your head.

He said nothing. The flames of fury began to rage hotter within you as he stared down his nose at you, looking at you in a way that he’d never done before.

“Fuck you.” You gritted out, narrowing your eyes up at him.

His lips lifted into a smirk, his eyes shifting to the neck of your dress. You shivered, feeling his gaze on your cleavage. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to make you react in an unexpected way. Your body felt warm with something other than anger. Your nipples hardened against the dainty fabric of your dress, not a gust of cool air to be found.

“You don’t think what you did was damaging to me? To this operation?” Miguel questioned, the irritation back in his words.

“So because I get fucked, your entire business is at stake? Is that what you’re telling me Miguel? Because it sounds like horseshit.” You stood from your chair and hovered in his face, smelling the alcohol on both of your breaths. “You’re mad because I let Bishop Losa fuck me and not you. This has nothing to do with business. You’re jealous.”

The air was sucked out of the room the moment the words left your mouth. You could see the minute they penetrated Miguel’s armor, see the deep rage making its way to the surface. He was tense and stiff, his eyes unrelenting and unforgiving as they stared straight through you.

You’d crossed a line, yet again. But you weren’t going to back down. You’d never been one to do so and you weren’t going to start now.

“Admit that to yourself, Miguel. Admit that’s what this is about.”

Silence.

He only continued to stare with that same void expression, looking as if he wanted to strangle you. His hands flexed as if testing the idea. You shivered again, though it was far from fear you were experiencing.

“I didn’t think so.” You taunted, a victorious smile making its way to your painted lips. You turned to leave, done with the conversation and your employer. If he wanted to act like a juvenile, then you’d treat him like one.

You made it two steps before a heavy hand gripped your elbow. You yelped at the force of the hold and the momentum used to spin you around. You nearly lost your footing, your heels making it difficult to balance. A pair of arms braced you, but they weren’t about to offer you comfort. They tightened around your midsection as they hauled you against the wall. Your head slammed with a brutal thud and you winced at the pain that radiated from your skull.

“Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting Miguel’s cold, murderous orbs. His fingertips dug into your upper arms while his chest heaved against yours with raggedy breaths. You matched his breathing, the fear most definitely taking hold now.

“You’ve forgotten who you work for…who owns you. I make the rules. I tell you when and where. I make you who you are. Me entiendes?” He didn’t wait for a response. “If I had known you’d rather whore yourself out I would’ve had you on your knees years ago.”

The slap echoed throughout the empty house. Your palm stung, the force of your strike still radiating through your arm. Miguel’s cheek was red, but he showed no other visible sign of being struck. His grip was still iron-clad on you, his breathing still rapid and manic.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snarled as you pushed against his chest, attempting to escape his clutches. He didn’t relent. You punched him, hitting him square in the jaw like he’d taught you years before. He released you instantly, cradling his face. You took the chance and ran for the door, but your dress and heels made it difficult to get any sort of real traction. Loud, foreboding footsteps boomed behind you as he caught up. He struck out and made contact with your arm, once again ensnaring you in his hold. You fought back this time, putting up a fight as he struggled to subdue you.

Another slap. Only this time it was you who was clutching their cheek.

“You fucking bastard.”

You charged at him, fists clenched and ready to damage his perfectly etched face. He reacted instantly, reaching for the back of your neck while he held your wrists together in the other. He was close. The both of you breathing in the other’s air. There was barely a sliver of space between your lips as you dared the other to make a move. You could feel the distinct outline of him against your stomach. He was hard. The notion should’ve sickened you. Little did he know, you’d been wet from the moment he’d called you a whore.

“If I wanted you, I could have you. Remember…I own you. Always have.” He declared cockily, eyes roaming your face, searching for any indication that you wanted him to put a stop to this.

You wouldn’t.

“I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you.”

He licked his lips, a dot of blood already pooling to the surface where you’d hit him. The sight satisfied you.

“I feed you. I cloth you. I’ve made you everything that you are, sirenita. A whore playing dress up.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before he locked his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You struggled against him, unwilling to surrender. You slipped against the marble floors as he backed you against one of the columns, pinning your body against his own. His lips attacked you, teeth gnashing and tongue probing for entrance. His beard scratched at your skin and left a sting in its wake. You realized he’d let go of your wrists. Your hands were tangled in his shirt. You’d meant to push him away, but you’d pulled him closer instead. Your nails dug into his pectorals until you were rewarded with a sharp hiss. He bit your lip in retaliation, the taste of iron landing on your tongue.

His hands ripped at your dress, the slit now torn wide to reveal the black lace you wore underneath. The neck of your dress fell open to expose your braless breasts to his assault. He wasted no time in taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth, sucking so hard that you whimpered and jerked away. You tugged at the roots of his thick hair, pulling him from your chest. He was still bent down, his neck craned so that he had to look up at you. You admired the change in position, feeling a rush of desire at the sight of him hungry and dazed for you.

You took the opportunity to switch positions, swinging him around so that he was now trapped between you and the wall. Your hands went to the buckle of his belt and began to release him from the confines of his designer slacks. Your mouth watered as his cock sprang forward. It was thick and heavy; hot and throbbing in time with your pulse. You made sure he kept his eyes on you as you licked your palm, coating it in saliva. He clenched his jaw as he watched you, releasing a strangled moan when you wrapped your hand around him. He began to succumb to you, his body overwrought with the need to release.

“Who’s the whore now?” You provoked, tightening your hand around him. He cursed and thrust his hips in response, but he was far from letting you win.

He grasped your chin, bringing your face so close to his that you could see the outline of his blown wide pupils against the near black of his irises.

“I’m going to fill that mouth so full of cum that you’ll be tasting me for a fucking week.”

You swallowed and clenched your thighs, his words making your walls contract in tantalizing tremors. You wanted that. You wanted all of that and more.

“You can deny it all you want, but I know…I’ve always known. That pussy is mine. It belongs to the Galindo cartel.” His hand wandered down and over your breasts, sweeping under the band of lace that concealed you from view. He found your clit and teased it, encouraging the overflow of your arousal that was sure to come. “And it gets wet at the thought of me fucking you until you can’t walk. Right?”

You bit your lip and gasped as he entered you, massaging the wet heat of your walls with expert precision.

“Answer me.” He demanded, finger sliding further into your depths.

“Fuck you.”

You were working hard to keep the effect of his touch off your face. You remained impassive and cold, but the further he explored, the closer he brought you to that proverbial edge.

“Oh, you will…”

In a flash, you were hauled into his arms and pushed into the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He ripped at your panties with one hand, the ruined fabric falling away from your body to land in a heap on the floor. The lace had rubbed harshly at your skin as he tore it away, but the feeling was eclipsed by the harsh thrust of his cock into your unsuspecting body. The action caught you off guard, pulling a breathless curse from your lips. Your body tightened and twisted around him and his cock, trying to accommodate the intruder.

“I knew you’d be tight.” He confessed into your neck as he began to thrust. His hips met yours in a ruthless pattern, merciless and cruel. You could only hold on as he took from you, pushing so deep that he hit the natural barrier within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You chanted as every line and ridge of his cock grazed beautifully so against your walls. Your spine twisted in both pain and pleasure, lights already dancing behind your lids. You tangled your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp. He shuddered, the sensation traveling through his body and into your own.

He moved a second later, carrying you from the wall to the table you’d both been seated at only moments before. His motions were fast and unhinged, uncaring for you comfort as he slipped from your grasp. You both hissed, but didn’t have a chance to relish the emptiness as he turned you around, arching your ass into position.

“Bend over.”

You practically fell face first into the table as he pushed your head down. Your arms caught you just in time as you spread your legs and welcomed him between them. He shoved your dress up and landed a sharp slap to your right ass cheek, the sting reverberating through your lower half. You flinched and threw him a withering glare over your shoulder. His hands spread you, his cock nestled between your folds as he readied to enter you once again. Your thighs were slick, your walls now primed enough for him to slide uninhibited. He was taking without asking, without remorse, and you ate it up, daring him to give you more.

You moaned at the same time he grunted, his cock now back inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut against the onslaught of euphoria, feeling the web of climax begin to weave itself around you. You pulled at the tablecloth beneath you as Miguel thrust deep, his hips flush with yours as he penetrated your fucking soul. You could feel his eyes burning into you, no doubt  taking extreme pleasure in seeing you be such a slut for his cock.

“Are you going to cum?” He ground out, hands still holding your ass apart to watch.

“Yes…”

“Do it now.”

You whined as he began assailing your clit with his finger, rubbing so hard that you felt your eyes cross in your skull. The feeling was foreign, more powerful and unexplored. You shied away from it, unwilling to let go.

“Don’t fight it.” Miguel ordered, feeling your body flinch away. He only went faster and harder, intent on making you come undone.

You had no choice. You gave yourself over to it, letting him pull your orgasm from the depths and send it to the surface. You readied for the inevitable and cried out when your body began to convulse. You were only mildly aware of the gush of liquid that left your body as you were flung into space and launched into a chamber of weightlessness. Miguel’s praises and groans tickled your skin as he bathed himself in your release. He pulled his cock from your depths and let you soak him as he watched in rapt fascination.

“Fuck, just like that…” He said in awe, his cock once again sliding along your folds as your pussy  continued to contract against him.

Your face was pressed into the table, your ass still in the air and presented like some kind of prize. You panted with exertion as your limbs became lethargic and sated with the buzz of desire. It felt like an hour had passed, but in reality it’d only been seconds.

You were flipped onto your back, the whiplash making you dizzy. Plates and glasses toppled to the pristine floor as Miguel pried your legs open and resumed fucking you with wild abandon. Your eyes rolled and your toes curled as he fucked you through your post-coitus high. You were moving with every brute thrust, your body shifting up the table. You caressed your breasts as he looked on, growling in approval. His hair was tousled, his lip bleeding with his shirt untucked and pants undone. He’d never looked sexier.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He breathed as he doubled his efforts. He ravaged your body with a new ferocious energy, pulling away when the feeling became too much. He wrapped his hand around himself and pulled at your ankle with the other. “On your knees.”

You nearly slid off the table, your heels barely touching the ground before he was pushing you to kneel. You did as he wanted, meeting his devious stare with a bat of your lashes.

“Open your mouth.”

You complied, sticking out your tongue as he jerked himself off. The head of his cock released streams of thick, white cum seamlessly onto your awaiting tongue. He aimed it perfectly, ensuring it all ended up in your mouth and nowhere else. You could feel it already sliding down your throat as you waited for him to finish.

“Swallow it.”

He held your chin, keeping your mouth closed and running his thumb over your lips. You obeyed and swallowed down every drop, savoring the decadence. He looked down at you with a worshipful eye, an expression that was usually reserved for your professional accomplishments. You relished it, just as you did all the times before.

Miguel tucked himself back into his pants and then reached a hand out to you. You accepted his help and stood, albeit on shaky legs. You clutched the front of your dress together, the thing nearly shredded on your frame. You waited for him to say something, but he only turned and walked to the kitchen counter where his phone sat. He picked it up and walked back to you, his attention focused on the digital screen at his fingertips.

“I know everything that happens within my operation. Sometimes people have to be reminded.” He was back to being calm, not an ounce of irritation left on his handsome features. “I’ve done that with you. And now I’ll do that with Bishop.”

Your blood ran cold when he showed you the screen of his phone. Footage of what just transpired between you two played out, a security timestamp at the bottom of the screen making you aware that this was the real deal. Every moment, every obscene action and insult was captured for anyone to see. Humiliation rushed through you.

“I’m the only one that has access to this. But by tomorrow morning Bishop Losa will receive a clip of this footage. A message that he’s touched what’s mine and to never do so again.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped towards you. You remained unmoving, no energy left to fight with Goliath. He caressed your cheek gently, the patronizing tone now back in his voice.

“This is part of your punishment. Take it like I know you can. Okay?” He prompted. His gentleness was soothing, but a farce. He’d made his point and now you had to fall in line. You were just a solider, taking orders from the commander. And he was reminding you of that.

“Sirenita,” He called, the affection that’d been missing the last time he’d used the name now unmistakable.

You met his eyes. They were back to the mahogany color you’d grown to love. The darkness no longer shrouding him. He cradled your cheek, noting the way you winced when he touched the still tender flesh.

“Say okay.”

“Okay.” You finally replied, defeat coating the word.

“I’ll get this cleaned up tomorrow.” He gestured to the mess behind you, the dining table looking as if a bull raged through. “It’s late. Go upstairs and shower. I’ll be up in a bit.”

You went to refuse, but he stopped you with a kiss. You responded back eagerly, tangling your tongue with his and letting him taste himself. By the time he pulled away, you were both breathing heavily, hearts beating wildly.

“Things are going to be different. You’ll be with me for a while. No more solo missions.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show at his words. You were being demoted. From right hand to whore. You now belonged to Miguel in the one way you said you never would. You’d  refused him for so long because you knew the power he held over you…knew the type of life he could give you. It’d be everything you’d wanted and more. Addicting. Luxurious. Lawless. You’d get so lost in him that you’d lose yourself. You knew it. But you’d made a mistake and you had to repent. And you’d do so willingly.

You’d go from whore to housewife in an instant. You’d be his Queen before long…back to running things. Only this time you’d do so with your legs wide and your mouth open. If Miguel wanted a cartel whore, then he’d get one.

[brandyllyn]

In our own image... (03)

Chapter 3

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters...  My Masterlist

Word count: 1700. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) language?

Poe ran a hand through his hair, looking at himself in the small shaving mirror. He tilted his head back and forth, finally letting out a short curse. He’d messed up his sideburns this morning. One of them was noticeably higher than the other. It would grow back within a couple of days but today was the day he was supposed to retrieve BB-8 from the Droidsmith. He had kind of hoped that he would look good for it.

He leaned back, trying to see as much of himself as he could. He undid one of the buttons on his shirt and then quickly shook his head and did it back up. There was no reason the woman needed to see his nipples just yet. Anxiously, he pulled the sleeves of his shirt down, buttoning the cuffs in brisk movements. Then he hooked his thumbs into his belt, settling his weight back on one foot.

"Hey," he told his reflection, raising one eyebrow. The man in the mirror did the same and Poe groaned. He looked like an idiot. Scrubbing a hand across his face he grabbed his blaster belt and buckled it on, leaving before he spent the next hour trying to figure out how he could make a curl fall across his forehead just right. His hair was always doing that. Always almost in his eyes. But not today. Of course not. Today it was sticking up in seven different directions and no amount of cursing or trying to flatten it down with water had helped.

Pushing aside the cloth he used for a door, Poe nearly ran head first into Snap. The older man stepped back and Poe caught himself before falling on his face.

"Whoa there," Snap muttered, "what’s got you in knots this morning?"

"Nothing," Poe said quickly. Too quickly.

Snap raised an eyebrow, "Nothing eh? Does this nothing have something to do with finally getting your little droid back today?"

Poe released a breath. Oh, Snap thought he was anxious because he missed BB-8. He was, and he did. It was valid. "Yeah," he smiles at the older man, "that’s it."

"Come have breakfast first," Snap told him, falling into step beside Poe. They had to duck under the nose of Black One. Like every pilot on base, Poe slept within twenty feet of his ship. "If you don’t you’re going to be so caught up petting that little guy that you’ll forget to eat and then I’ll have to deal with hungry Dameron the rest of the morning."

Snap gave a dramatic shudder and Poe punched him lightly on the arm. "I’m not that bad."

"Who’s not that bad?" Pava asked, intercepting them as they passed Black Three.

"Dameron when he’s hungry," Snap informed her before Poe could say anything.

"Oh Gods no," Pava took a step to the side. "Is he hungry now? Are we going to get food? We can fix this Commander, hold on."

Poe gritted his teeth, glaring between the two of them. "I’m not that bad," he repeated.

Pava gave him a sympathetic look. "No caf and no food? Dameron, we’re all that bad."

Grunting, Poe undid his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows as he shouldered past them. "Insubordination," he muttered but neither of them seemed to pay any mind. They had gotten into a discussion about what food they missed most and Poe felt his own stomach grumble. Maybe stopping for breakfast first wasn’t the worst idea. Fainting from hunger in front of the Droidsmith probably wasn’t going to make a great second impression - and considering how… mediocre the first one had gone he was really hoping to be charming this time around.

By the time he was done eating and had gone through his morning briefing with the Squadron Poe was sweating. The humidity on this part of Ajan Kloss was never something to be sneered at, and today the air was still and hot to go with it. There was a storm coming, if not today then certainly tomorrow. He made a mental note to remind everyone to be sure their lightning rods were up. The last thing they needed was to lose a ship to electrical repairs.

Maybe he should go do that right now in fact. BB-8 could wait a bit, there was no need to… Poe shook his head, squaring his shoulders. The fact that there was finally someone on base who he was both interested in and could in good conscience pursue was secondary to the fact that he needed to get his astromech back. Flying yesterday with R2-D2 had been fine, but it wasn’t the same as having his little buddy onboard.

That settled, Poe strode confidently between the trees towards the Mu shuttle. The Droidsmith was in the front portion of her workshop today, her back to him, sitting at one of the tables and working on the R4 unit.

He coughed, not wanting to scare her. After a moment, he coughed again, louder.

Still no response.

He was getting ready to cough a third time when the little translator droid rolled out from under her stool. "Hi hi," it said, tilting up to look at him.

"Hi K-0," he greeted it. "Can you tell…" Shit. He’d forgotten to get her name. He could feel his eyes bugging out as he struggled to finish the sentence. "Her that I’m here for BB-8?"

K-0 flashed a red light at him. "No. Go. No. Not here."

Poe dropped to one knee, propping an arm on it as he tried to meet K-0 at its level. "What do you mean not here?"

"Bad droid," K-0 said fiercely. "Go. No come back. Bad."

"K-0-" Poe started but the droid raced off, running a circle around the Droidsmith’s stool and looking at him from behind her feet.

"No. Go. No."

The Droidsmith finally seemed to notice something was going on, pushing herself away from the table so the stool was leaning back on two legs. She looked down at the droid and then turned, raising an eyebrow at him.

Shit, he was still kneeling. He rose quickly, dusting the knees of his pants off and smiling at her as she settled the stool back onto all four legs. She was prettier than he remembered, if that was even possible.

"Hi," he said and K-0 beeped, echoing him.

She gave a dubious whistle and K-0 translated, "Hello." Then another whistle and a tsking sound with her tongue. "What you do K-0?"

Poe blinked, then looked down at the droid. "I didn’t do anything to K-0 - I was just looking for BB-8."

K-0 translated for him and Poe saw her eyebrows draw together and then she relaxed, rolling her eyes and looking down at the little droid. A series of whistles happened, interspersed with clicks of her tongue. He couldn’t understand her, but could pick up K-0’s side of the conversation in Binary.

"BB-8 is bad droid. Want replace K-0."

A low whistle from the Droidsmith and a fond smile.

"Bad droid. Bad man."

She snorted and looked over at him and he held his hands up in his most non-threatening pose. More whistling.

"Bad man keep bad droid."

Poe didn’t want to interrupt but did feel the need to defend his own honor. "Look, BB-8 might be my droid but he’s got a mind of his own. Whatever he did, don’t blame me. I’m just here to keep him from setting himself on fire."

K-0 translated his words into Binary as he talked and the Droidsmith winked at him. Maker, she winked at him and he felt heat flash along his body that had absolutely nothing to do with the burning Ajan Kloss sun. She whistled and K-0 turned to him with what Poe could only call smugness.

"Bad droid not here."

Poe blinked, "Yeah, you said that before. What do you mean he’s not here?"

The Droidsmith furrowed her brow before replying. "Rey take bad droid."

"Rey," Poe muttered, looking down at K-0 as it translated. "Rey took BB-8? Where?"

More whistling. "Rey say take you."

Poe grunted. "When?"

"Morning," K-0 replied, not needing to wait for the Droidsmith.

So Rey had been by this morning and left with BB-8. The Jedi often took BB-8 out with her when she was training. It just meant… Poe had spent the night before thinking of several topics for conversation that he could have with the Droidsmith today. But they all had kind of relied on having BB-8 there as he was the focus of most of them.

"Oh, okay," he fumbled, trying to think of something else to say. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. The language barrier, coupled with only getting garbled sentences back from K-0 made conversing difficult.

"Need more bad man?" K-0 asked after a gentle prompt from the Droidsmith. Those deep brown eyes were on him and he swallowed, gaze dropping to her pursed lips before snapping back to more appropriate locations. Poe looked at her workbench, at the pieces of droid strewn across it. She obviously had work to get back to.

"No, no," he backed away, tripping slightly when the workshop ground covering gave way to dirt. "I’ll just…"

He wouldn’t say he ran away. But he did walk quickly. If someone wanted to be very particular perhaps he jogged. But he definitely didn’t run - Poe Dameron didn’t run from things.

After a minute of walking quickly he slowed, then stopped. Raising a hand he rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. That had… that had not gone well. Maker had it really been that long since he had flirted with purpose and not just for the sake of flirting? Long enough that he was a bumbling mess about it?

It was the translation problem. That was it. Nothing to do with him. If she understood Basic or he understood… whatever it was that she was speaking… this would all be going a lot smoother. Maybe he could bring Threepio next time. While the protocol droid could be annoying, he’d at least translate full sentences without color commentary - something K-0 did not seem to be capable of.

Yeah, that was it. He’d bring Threepio by next time. Then they could have a nice conversation. Just him, Threepio and….

Well shit. He still hadn’t gotten her name.

=

Chpt 4

[perseusannabeth]

Don’t Look (Okay Maybe Just a Little Peek) - Part 2

So here’s part 2 of Don’t Look (Okay Maybe Just a Little Peak), which was highly requested (I was so shocked lmao). Shout out to @bookstantrash for the idea! I hope you enjoy it.

If anyone has anymore requests, then please send them to my ask box! I’m currently running very low on prompts. It seems I am on a roll this week, since I’m off work.

Read part 1 here

Read on AO3

Masterlist for all fics

Word Count: 1806

Cassian was staring at the ceiling. He had the fan blowing on him, the windows were open, and he was in his boxers, but he still couldn't sleep. All he could think of was the events from yesterday afternoon. He closed his eyes and cursed the gods for taunting him. There was no other way to explain it. Cassian had been head over heels in love with Nesta for what felt like forever but was more likely to be a few months after meeting her nearly 3 years ago. He had been the one that had suggested living with her, thinking he could handle it, but it had been pure torture.  

Nesta had always been so put together, full of fire and looked as though she would rip his balls off if he dared to even breathe wrong, and he had loved it. Seeing her first thing in the morning, wearing oversized shirts that were extremely faded, and her hair a mess, her eyes barely open had been too much for Cassian to bear when he had first seen her. Now, almost a year of them living together, it still took his breath away, he had just gotten better at hiding his reaction to her, or so he hoped. Either way, she didn’t snap at him for funnily staring at her anymore.   

He had thought that would be the best version of Nesta he could ever see. That was the soft side of Nesta, which only a privileged few could say they had seen, and Cassian could add his name to that very shortlist. The horny side of him had decided that the best version of Nesta was the version he had seen yesterday. The horny part of his brain seemed to take over a lot when it came to Nesta which was unfortunate. This was even worse than when she walked around with no bra on under her shirts and he could see the faint outline of her nipples poking through. 

Cauldron, he felt like such a pervert. He felt incredibly guilty for walking in on Nesta in the shower. He was an idiot. He should've been paying attention when he had gotten home, but he hadn't because he had just assumed Nesta wasn't home yet. He had planned on just having a quick piss and then asking Nesta if she needed picking up since she hadn't texted him. He hadn't even noticed the shower running, although after he had left the bathroom, it was the loudest sound he'd ever heard.   

He had just barged into the bathroom, and gods above, he was so fucked. He had only caught a glimpse of what he had known was under her clothes all along, the thoughts he had tried not to linger on all this time. The pert breasts, rosy coloured nipples, the round ass that he just wanted to take a bite out of, her soft-looking skin, the little patch of hair between her legs that he just wanted to sink into, with his mouth, fingers or dick, he wasn’t particularly fussy, he just wanted to taste her.  

Cassian let out a small groan of frustration as he closed his eyes, images of Nesta flashing in his mind no matter how much he tried to wish them away. Just brilliant, now he was warm and horny. He was never going to sleep now. At least tomorrow was Saturday and he didn't have to go to work. He knew that if he turned up to work with shadows under his eyes and irritated, his brothers would easily figure out what the cause of his sleeplessness was. He had managed to pass Friday off as the unbearable summer heat keeping him up at night, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to make them fall for that one twice in a row. They had seemed suspicious when he had given his excuse but had let it go when Mor had changed the subject. He had never been more grateful for Mor in his life. He knew that she would probably grill him afterwards though, the price of her help was always gossip.   

His brothers thought it was hilarious that he was so gone for Nesta. They had never seen Cassian pining for someone. The pining was made even more interesting by Nesta's cold outward demeanour, and the way she rebuffed his attempts at flirting with her. Cassian knew there was more to it than Nesta being some ice queen. He knew that her shitty ex must have done a number on her. He saw the way that even Feyre was so soft and careful with Nesta when it came to certain topics. She hadn't been at first, but she must've found something out. Found out what that dickhead Tomas had done.  

Cassian couldn't stop thinking about the way Nesta had looked when he had cornered her in the kitchen. Not just how beautiful she looked in her pyjamas, her wet hair shoved up haphazardly, the slight blush on her cheeks from the embarrassment of being seen by Cassian in such a vulnerable state. No, Nesta was shocked. Shocked that Cassian would ever have feelings for Nesta, that he would ever think of her in that way. 

Maybe she had written off all of his flirting attempts as him joking around, he had never wanted to try seriously because of the fear of rejection. He didn’t want to make things awkward, to ruin what they already had. If things went south, he knew Nesta would cut off their friend circle, and he couldn’t live with that. But the fact that Nesta had never noticed the other men and women who flirted with her when they were out, the lingering stares. That surprised Cassian. He had just assumed she knew what she looked like, the effect she had on people.

He hoped that Nesta’s comment before she left to go to her room the other day meant that perhaps, she was slowly starting to change her mind about herself. That she would see herself the way she was, not the way that dickhead Tomas had made her see herself. She deserved better than that. 

Cassian eventually snapped out of his Nesta musings. He hadn’t seen her since they had spoken in the kitchen, since Cassian had opened his big fat mouth. He hoped he hadn’t scared her off. He hoped that she was just busy with work, and that’s why he hadn’t seen her all day. That had happened to them before. But if she was avoiding him, Cassian wasn’t sure his heart could handle that. 

Feeling even more restless now, Cassian decided to get up and get himself some water to drink. Maybe he’d take a sleeping pill and pass the fuck out because he wasn’t sure he could deal with 2 days in a row of not sleeping properly. 

He got up, pulling on some joggers just in case Nesta happened to be up at this time. He doubted it, Nesta slept at old people times, but still, he wouldn’t want to parade around in just his boxers and make her uncomfortable. 

He opened his door, only to come face to face with the woman who had ruined his sleep for 2 nights in a row now. She looked surprised, but then quickly neutralised her expression, and stepped away slightly after noticing just how close they were. 

“Nes, are, erm, is everything okay?”

Nesta was in her pyjamas, her hair slightly messy like she had been tossing and turning before she decided to get up. Her eyes were bright and alert, so she hadn’t just woken up. Perhaps Cassian wasn’t the only one unable to sleep.

“I… fine. I just, I was wondering, I mean-” Nesta rubbed her face, her frustration visible across her face. She took a deep breath, as though to ground her, and then tried again. “I just wanted to apologise for making things awkward with everything that happened.” Nesta’s face flushed slightly as she spoke. 

“Oh. You don’t need to apologise, it’s not your fault. I should’ve been paying attention. I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, and for any of the dumb things I said afterwards.”

Nesta was silent and still. She didn’t move beyond the rise and fall of her chest. She just stared at Cassian in a way that was almost unnerving. Like she was analysing him for any little weakness. 

“You surprised me.”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised slightly at her admission. “What I said in the kitchen?” Nesta nodded slowly, her eyes now studying his, as though she was trying to look for some hidden meaning in them. “It’s true. I was afraid it would somehow ruin things, so I never said anything, but I used to practice how to ask you out in the mirror. Before you moved in before I found out you were with-” He cut himself off, not wanting to mention Tomas’ name in case it somehow upset her. 

“If things had been different, would you have?” 

“I’m not sure, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough. I’d like to think so. But either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is now. Nesta Archeron, please, put me out of my misery and go out with a date with me?”

He couldn’t hide the hope on his face as he stared down at Nesta. 

“Okay.”

Cassian felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot.”

Cassian couldn’t help the big smile spread across his face. “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret it. Thank you.”

Nesta smiled slowly, and Cassian felt like he had been punched in the chest. She was stunning, breathtaking, and she had agreed to go on a date with him. He was the luckiest bastard in the world. 

“Actually, I should thank you. You made me realise something.”

“What?” He asked breathlessly. 

“That I need to re-evaluate the way I see myself.” With that, she smiled, and leaned in, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek before walking back to her bedroom. 

Cassian was in a daze. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. He felt like a 12-year-old, blushing because he had been kissed by a pretty girl. But Nesta Archeron wasn’t just a pretty girl, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was a wildfire, but he was more than willing to get burnt by her. As Cassian got back into bed, completely forgetting why he had gotten out of bed in the first place, and unable to wipe the dopey smile on his face, his cheek still tingling from where Nesta had kissed him, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps things were looking up for Cassian and Nesta. 

Tags list (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this).

@hizqueen4life @kelly-fasel @sannelovesreading @acourtofmarauders @maastrash @sjm-things @bookstantrash @cursebreaker29 @humanexile @iammissstark @stardelia @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @cass-nes @thewayshedreamed

[thisisthehardestthing]

This Is The Hardest Thing - 2

CHAPTER 2

Synopsis: A exchange student from the US in enrolled into UA when her father has to move to help with the increased crime rates in Japan. The final year of high school is a lot to handle, adding on top the class of 3-A and the trouble they get into will make for a wild ride.

Author’s note: Switches to third person in the middle. I hope it’s not complicated lol. I have been reading this chapter over and over and over again trying to tweak it but I think this is the best I’m going to get it. After this chapter, the plot is going to get a jumpstart in a new direction.

Triggers: swearing

Word count: 3.4k

@whats-her-quirk​ , @aizawascumslut 

CHAPTER 1 , MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 2 - BUTTERFLIES

Sun’s setting earlier, you mused. Different to what you were used to. The cool breeze of this morning was back. In a few days, it would officially be autumn. Your chest rose as you took a deep inhale. The scent of sweet grass lingered in the air as though it was recently mowed. There was a sigh of content that escaped your lips.

You walked to the dorms that you were to live in. Large doors loomed in front of you as you dragged your purple suitcase over the stoned walkway. The 3-A was hanging above the entrance painted in white on the red brick.

During the last class of the day, you were called to the reception to fill in some forms about the living arrangements, and received the key to your bedroom and front door. You recalled the amenities mentioned by the smiling receptionist; a full gym, kitchen, laundry and bath area’s. Your suitcase had also arrived, being couriered directly from the airport. You had only one that wasn’t even full, so it had felt like a waste to not have waited for it yourself.

As you stood in front of the large doors to the dorm house of Heights Alliance, the butterflies in your belly managed to start up again, wings fluttering and getting caught in your intestines. There you stood in front of the closed front door, not knowing what to expect on the other side. It almost felt as if you were supposed to knock before entering, even though you now lived there too. Your eyelids shut as you took a breath before gripping the handle with white knuckles.

The floor was wooden. A light birchwood that bent and bounced under your weight as you walked across it. Inside the large front room, the lights were bright and gave the room a warm glow. Some of your new classmates were sprawled in the lounge area, watching T.V. It was a collection of arms on the back of the chairs, legs thrown over the top of pillows. Mineta was sitting on the floor near the tv as an actress was jumping off a building, almost as if he could look up her skirt from his angle.

There were dishes clattering in the kitchen, it was carrying voices arguing about who is cooking and who is washing up. Kirishima wants barbecue meat, Momo wants a green salad with plently of fried sides to share. You heard them come to a decision of a mixture of both. Todoroki was standing in front of sink, filling up empty ice cube trays with water. It was as if the house was both the eye and the storm at once. They were working together in a neat chaos and you took it all in as you walked in.

The sounds of your footsteps and the bag wheeling behind you caught the girls’ attention and they all rushed to you. Mina and Uraraka gave you a welcoming hug. Your intestines unwound and you forgot why you were nervous in the first place.

“Finally! We were wondering if you were going to be living with us in the dorms or not!” Mina gestured, linking her arms with you like when you first met. She was extremely friendly and put you at ease with how natural it felt to talk to her.

“Yeah, I am. I had to go fill some stuff out before I got here.” You replied, smiling back at her.

“Awesome,” She said with a thumbs up, catching you off-guard because it was in English, and your smile widened. You pulled your arm out of hers and fumbled for your room key in your pocket.

“What room is 2-3?” You ask, showing the girls the yellow tag.

Mina, Tsuyu, Momo and Uraraka said they would accompany you up to your room.

“Do you mind if we help you unpack?” Uraraka asked, footsteps lightly padding on the floor as you made your way to the staircase, past the kitchen. “We want to get to know you! There are so many boy’s in our class, it’s nice to have another girl to talk to.” You heard a laugh that bordered on a bark.

“HA! As if she’s a girl.” Bakugo roared out, still bitter that you had the upper hand for a few seconds during the short fight. Kirishima grabbed him in a headlock, pulling him down low. Your eyebrows shot up as he was able to keep a firm hold on the neck, not faltering under the strength of Bakugo’s threats and tugs. He had a grey gym tank on that had wide armholes. The movement had shifted one so that half of a dark brown nipple was on display.

“Ignore him,” He flashed a toothy smile. “He just needs to get used to you. Kind of like a dog.” You gave Kirishima a small grin in return. Your eyes snapped back to Bakugo who had set off an explosion against Kiri’s side to free himself. The girls dragged you up the stairs as they rolled their eyes.

“See what we mean?” They all giggled.

Your bedroom was on the second floor, the third to the right of the split hallway. You unlocked the door. It swung open with ease, as if welcoming you home.

There was a simple bed with light grey covers folded neatly on the end. A dark wood desk and chair to do your work on, a set of drawers and a single closet, that already had some school uniforms hanging, courtesy of dad. The mini-fridge and microwave was snugly against a marble counter that had storage space both above and below it. There was an attached bathroom with a toilet and a sink. It was a bare room, which was fine because it meant you could decorate it throughout the year with things you come across.

Your bag fell heavily on your bed and Mina jumped on after it, giddy with excitement. Uraraka explained that they wanted to see what kind of clothes you wore in the USA.

“Well, I don’t want to disappoint you, but it’s pretty normal stuff.” You laughed. They were acting like you came from another planet. “I also don’t actually own a lot of things, so I’m sorry if it’s not up to your expectations.” The purple trolley bag was now unzipped and open. Tsuyu peered over your shoulder as everyone looked at the items. They watched as you hung up your clothes and they chatted animatedly among themselves, handing you some of the shirts and jeans.

It felt good to be talking to other girls your age. Ever since your mom left, it had been you and your dad. The people in your old school had started to shun you after a particularly bad incident with your quirk, which is why you didn’t want to bring it up for as long as possible. And the girls were fine to not talk about what it was, instead bringing up other topics. They’d seen how you’d danced around the questions about yourself from Midoriya’s examination during lunch. He’d been scribbling a notebook about your father but you had changed the topic as soon as he asked about you.

“Oh my!” Momo interrupted as she saw your underwear. It was a rather large collection of thongs, some lacey, most plain. Yet you only owned three bra’s in total. “So skimpy!” She lifted one up by the waist band and stretched it out gently, blushing red. You grabbed it from her, your own face and ears going pink, burning hot.

The girls fell down in their laughter. You quickly gathered it all up and stuffed it into a dresser, deciding to sort it out later.

“I like nice things” you shrugged, closing the drawer quickly.

“What else can we expect from the land of Victoria’s Secret?” Mina wiggled her eyebrows.

They soon left you to your own devices to sort out the rest of your room, welcoming you to UA as they closed the door.

It was 1 in the morning when you were finally ready to climb into bed, having just changed into your red night dress. Everything was meticulously packed away, and you were happy with the way the day turned out. Three framed photograph’s of your family sat atop the dresser. You were about 10, gap toothed smile on display with your parents staring lovingly at each other behind you. The other two were more recent pictures of you with each of your parents after their divorce.

But then your stomach rumbled and you moaned as you realized you had never eaten dinner. You raked your fingers through your thick hair, pulling it against your scalp. How could you have completely missed it? That’s also when you realized that you had not looked at your phone the entire day, and had no one’s numbers. Which was a shock. Your body was still not used to the time difference, so you convinced yourself to head downstairs since you wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

Maybe there are leftovers? You thought to yourself as you shrugged on a thin, white cotton bathrobe and padded quietly down the hall with your bare-feet to make your way to the kitchen. The nerves in your feet hummed in response as your quirk begged to be used.

*************************

Bakugo was definitely not expecting to see anyone. He’d went to the gym after dinner, training until late and was once again hungry. He’d just finished a shower, drops were dripping down his neck. Fingers combing through the blonde hair to fluff it back to its usual points as he made his way to the kitchen, stopping when he saw the light was already on.

Who else could be awake at this time? He thought to himself, eyebrows knitting together as the corners of his mouth turned down.

He really did not feel like talking to anyone and he was exhausted from the extra hours of exercise, so he had every plan of ignoring who else was in there until he saw her. The sight of Rei’s back to him made his blood boil, white-hot heat exploding in his body. It was a melting pot of hormonal lust, embarrassment and knowing there was an unfinished fight. It was made worse by the red nightdress hanging on her body. It dipped into a slight V, showing half of her back. She was fit and muscular, it was obviously the kind of body only achieved by intense training. He found her insanely attractive, which pissed himself off even more. He was 100% focused on being the top hero when graduating at the end of the year. He did not have time for feelings. Especially when it was only normal hormonal lust. So he redirected the anger onto other things: the punching bag in the gym, the sponge he scrubbed himself with and at Rei.

He watched in the shadows as she opened the fridge, bending forward slightly to scan the contents. Her short nightdress rode up, dangerously close to the fold of her ass and he felt his hands begin to sweat. His frown deepened. It felt stifling hot in the dark common area and if he wasn’t already shirtless, he would’ve been pulling at the neck to try and get some air. She straightened up, not finding anything that would satisfy the midnight cravings, and her dress dropped again to a somewhat respectable length.

What an idiot. Dressing like this in a common area. He thought to himself, then he saw the bathrobe on the table that had been taken off when she thought no one was going to be there. He wondered if she was as warm as he in that moment.

He heard a huff and she put one hand on her hip, the contours of her shoulders muscled reflecting in the warm glow of the kitchen and moved the hair that was over her shoulder to the back, thick strands covering smooth skin. It bounced with the movement, natural highlights glinting from the hours she would spend in the sun. It was almost mocking Bakugo for staring so intently.

He watched as she moved to inspect the cupboards and scowled when his designated doors in the corner were opened. Rei’s hands lifted up above her head as she reached for a cookie tin that was just out of reach, her dress lifting up one again. Part of him wished for it ride a little higher, the other part of him wished she would crawl back to the hole she’d come from. It was his cookies that he saved for whenever he wanted a treat. There was no way he was letting her take some. They were his.

*******************

The cookie tin kept shifting away from your fingertips as you made a grab for it, pushing it back a little further each time. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you stretched up onto your toes. You huffed as it scooted all the way back and you dropped back down onto your heels. Someone tall must be their owner to store it up so high, or someone wanting to keep it hidden. Your stomach grumbled again, egging you on for the sweet snack.

Fine. You grumbled, stretching your arm out, hand open. To an outsider, it seemed as if an invisible string was connected to the tin, dragging it from the shelf as it flew into your hand. But what you felt on the inside was pure bliss. It was the first time you used your quirk, in weeks. You loved the rush of endorphins it gave you to have control over the object and you smiled. The cool metal of the tin vibrated against your palms, double chocolate chip goodness gripped firmly.

“Oi, new girl!” A gruff voice cut through the silence of the kitchen and you froze, painfully aware that you were naked underneath the dress. Pivoting on your heels, you saw Bakugo standing across from you, leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed across his bare chest. His biceps and shoulders bulged, nostrils flared.

How long has he been standing there? You wondered. Usually nothing could sneak past you, especially when your feet could feel the vibrations of everything.

Then you realised he saw you. It was nothing impressive, just moving a small object to you, but it wouldn’t be long until the rush of power it gave you would call out to be used again.

“Is that your quirk?” He sneered, with an eyebrow raised, “controlling cookie tins? That’s so shitty.”

You frowned. It was anything but that, but you learnt your lesson a few months ago when people challenged you and it went horribly wrong, and so you bit your tongue.

“Whatever, I’m not trying to impress anyone.” You retort back, opening the lid. You saw his eyes dart to the cookie tin, pupils narrowing.

“I don’t think you can impress anyone even if you tried.” He snapped, his hands dropping to the counter behind him as he leaned back. The pose was relaxed, inviting you to prove him wrong.

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, slamming the tin on the countertop, taking a few steps forward. If he wanted to fight, you wouldn’t back down. You were now a meter away from him, and you puffed your chest up to show that you weren’t going to take any of his shit.

“Yeah, dumbass. You fight like a girl, can’t even punch right.” You had to look up to him. Even though you were tall, he was still a few centimeters above you. His eyes glanced down at your chest before glaring at your eyes again. It was so fast that if you weren’t paying attention, you most probably would’ve missed it. The purple bruise on your sternum that he gave you was bright against the skin of your chest, perfectly in between the sun and moon tattoos underneath both your collarbones. His eyes glinted wickedly.

Your body moved before you knew what you were doing. You stuck right your hand out diagonally, a few centimeters away from touching him. He didn’t flinch, eyes traveling to look at your outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow.

“What’re you going to do? Throw the cookie tin at me? Hah.” He barked, laughing at his own joke.

You held your tongue and just dragged your hand horizontally through the air. Your toes pressed into the floor, feeling for the vibration you wanted. His eyes followed your hand and before he knew what was going on, the cupboard door behind him opened and smacked into the side of his head. He grunted and you turned on your heel, walking back across the kitchen. You were no longer hungry, angry at a man that taunted like a child.

“What the fuck!” Bakugo shouted, his voice echoing in the empty space.

“What are you going to do? Swear at me?” You spat back his own ‘insult’. Your comeback felt sour on your tongue. It wasn’t any good, but you were pissed off and anything you said seemed to make him angrier, which was fine with you. “I was going easy on you during training today.”

His nostrils seemed to flare at that last sentence. The palms of his hands began to steam and spark. There was nothing he hated more than people not giving their all when fighting, people thinking they had to hold themselves back when fighting him.

“YOU WERE WHAT!?” He bellowed, his fists clenched. “I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO AMERICA!”

If you weren’t already used to intimidating men in New York, you probably would’ve flinched at his shouting, but instead you squared your shoulders and started walking back towards him, your own fist closing. You both pulled back to launch punches at the same time. Then, the air got freezing cold and Bakugo’s fists came crashing down as two thick balls of ice wrapped around them. If he weren’t as strong as he was, he would’ve fallen to the floor. Instead, they dropped to his sides, making his shoulder droop down with the weight. A look of complete shock came across both of your faces and your heads snapped to look at the source.

Shouto Todoroki was standing behind the dining room table, looking extremely pissed off in his beige pyjama set. His half-white, half-red hair messy and shadowing his eyes.

“Can you guys please just shut up and go to bed. You’ve woken up the entire building.” He said, voice dripping with contempt. A slew of curse words erupted from Bakugo’s mouth as he lifted up the ice to bang them against each other, trying to crack them open.

You felt your nipples harden in the now cold room and grumbled, once more aware of just how bare you were. You grabbed your dressing gown that was on the dining table. Wrapping it around yourself as you walked back to the cookie tin to put it away. Bakugo seemed to ignore what Todoroki said, instead calling out to taunt you again. There was no way he was going to let this go.

“What, don’t want to eat the cookies anymore? Fine with me, you were pretty fucking heavy.”

You froze. Through the vibrations, you felt Bakugo adjust his weight to lean back, pleased that it granted a response from you. With the cookie jar away, you strode back up to face him for the final time that night. Shouto tensed up, ready to interject once more. It was a low blow, Bakugo knew it too but his chin was raised indignantly.

You said nothing as you stood in front of him. Your eyes searching one another for a hint that either one of you would back down. The balls of ice were already melting and forming puddles by his feet, the cold water spreading to tickling your toes, so you twisted them out. The cupboard door that you had opened next to his head slammed shut. The loud noise echoed in the kitchen and you turned away from the irritating man.

“Sorry, Todoroki. Good night.” You nodded to him and walked back to the stairs, fuming with anger. You could just hear Todoroki mumble about the time to Bakugo and a scoff in reply, but you couldn’t care enough to pay attention anymore, his insult replaying over and over in your mind.

****************

Thanks so much for reading Chapter 2! <3 Hope you liked it.

[onebatch2batch]

kastle + “Do you even own a shirt?” please!!

Thank you so much for the prompt, this was really fun to write!!

–

The worst part about finding a new roommate, Karen finds, is the staggering amount of bullshit to wade through just to find someone who isn’t going to kill her. Or smell her hair in her sleep. Or something equally as horrifying. The first person to answer her ad in the newspaper had been a small, mousy girl that wore cat ears and cried when Karen asked about it. The second person had been a man a few years her junior who reeked of weed and waggled his eyebrows when he asked if they’d be sharing the room and the rent. The next blunty told her he was only interested in the room as a rendezvous point for his mistress.

And so on.

Karen likes to think she’s not picky. She’s honestly, truly not picky. She’d been living with Foggy for three years before he and Marcie got engaged, prompting them to get a place together uptown. Foggy had been a good roommate—never late on rent, easy to spend time with, non combative about sharing a bathroom and chores. He also never took out the trash and was a serial dish-breaker. But everyone has their quirks, and she’s prepared for some level of weird. Just not as weird as the people she’s met with today.

So when the sixth person knocks on her door, Karen is less than optimistic. According to their brief phone call earlier in the day, his name is Frank Castle. He’s an ex-Marine, fresh out of service in need of a place in the city. He’d been polite and cursory on the phone, giving nothing else away–so when she opens the door to a handsome man with a clean shaven face and a charming smile, she’s a little shocked. And when he takes off his jacket during the tour to reveal thick, corded arms and a shirt drawn tight across his chest, she very nearly gives him the room on eye candy potential alone.

Common sense overrules her–if she really does give Frank the room, it would be a living nightmare to hook up with him. What if they sleep together and then have a falling out? She would still have to see him every day. She’ll have to vet him just like everyone else and make a decision fairly. Part of her hopes that he has a pet tarantula or something. Any reason to turn him down.

Unfortunately, the universe doesn’t work that way.

“I’m clean,” he tells her as he casts an eye over the vacant room. She watches the back of his head, enraptured by the low timbre of his voice. “And I’m quiet–I do play guitar sometimes. If that’s alright.”

Because of course the stupidly hot, charming man asking to live with her plays guitar. Of course.

“Do you work?” she asks him, leaning on the doorframe as he opens the closet door to look inside.

“Uh huh. I work construction. Sometimes I work odd jobs on the weekends.” He flashes her a quick smile. “And I promise to keep the parties down to a minimum.”

She offers him the room.

–

Two months after Frank moves in, they’ve settled into a rhythm. Admittedly, not the kind of rhythm that Karen thinks about when she’s alone at night and with him just across the hall but–

–yeah, they have a rhythm.

After a brief period of awkwardness and some time spent learning each other’s little quirks, Karen finds that she really enjoys Frank’s company. He’s funny in a very subtle, deadpan kind of way. He’s respectful of her space and privacy, and just like he said before–he’s quiet. Most nights find them at separate ends of the couch, Karen typing up an article for the paper she works at while he reads or strums his guitar. Sometimes he’ll cook them both dinner, pulling some old family italian recipe out of nowhere, table set by the time she gets home. She’s pleased to find he’s as clean as he claimed, and that sharing a bathroom isn’t as terrible as it could be. It seems neither of them have a very active social life, which suits her (and her growing crush) just fine.

Four months in, Karen decides that Frank is trying to kill her. She knows that he is a disciplined man; he starts every day the same way. He wakes up long before her. She knows this because the coffee pot is always nearly done brewing by the time she drags herself out of bed around 6am. In fact by the time she’s done pouring them both a cup–his black, hers with cream–his keys jingle in the door like clockwork. Frank spends every morning, seven days a week, running five miles before the sun even decides it’s going to rise. And then he walks in like it’s nothing, and Karen sits in her bathrobe and makes small talk and pretends not to notice the sweat glistening on his skin.

It really sinks in that Frank’s trying to kill her on a humid June morning. Even in the apartment with the AC circulating she feels the wetness of the air, and she lounges at the kitchen island with her coffee and watches the door. Frank’s keys sound a moment later, and then he walks in and nearly has her falling out of her chair.

Of course she’s seen him shirtless once or twice, but it’s always a brief flash between the bathroom and his bedroom door after a shower. It still leaves her wholly unprepared for the sight of Frank Castle’s chiseled abs, sculpted chest and thick, sinewy arms at half past six in the morning. She’s suddenly very awake.

“Mornin’,” Frank tells her easily, picking up his mug with a quick nod of thanks. He heads down the hall towards the bathroom and Karen takes a sip of her coffee, heart thundering in her chest. The image of him half naked, sweating for a whole different reason, fills her head. She thinks about him balanced above her, moisture beading on his forehead as he bruises her hips with his own. She thinks of what would happen if she made his heart race without even leaving the apartment–and if she even could.

The shower turns on and Karen groans, snapping out of her daydreams. She’s fucked.

–

She suffers through this newest form of torture in silent agony. Day after day, morning after morning, she considers staying in her bed until the shower switches on. And then day after day she pulls herself out of bed, far too eager for someone who can’t afford to have this big a crush on someone she’ll be splitting rent with indefinitely.

It’s seventeen shirtless morning later–not that she’s counting–when she finally cracks.

Frank strolls in before she can even take her first sip of coffee. As soon as she sees him, a flush rises on her cheeks. He’s got a nice, even tan over his skin that seems to glow under the lights of her kitchen. His hair is a little shaggier than normal, which means it’s about time for a trim. It gives him a softer look. There’s a sheen of sweat on him that she’s not embarrassed to say she finds ridiculously hot. When he directs one warm, wide, post-exercise smile at her she feels her insides turn to mush.

“Mornin’, Karen,” he greets, picking up his mug.

“Good morning.” By some small miracle, she only sounds a little strained.

Regardless, Frank raises a brow at her, leaning against the counter. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She searches for a safe topic, one that will steer him away from looking at her like that when she knows she must be flushed red. All she can come up with is: “Do you even own a shirt?”

Frank blinks once. And then once more, for good measure. He glances down and then back up at her with a sudden clarity. The slow, shit-eatening grin that spreads across his face makes her palms sweat.

“Am I makin’ you uncomfortable?” he asks with a lilt in his voice that tells her he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Not at all,” Karen mumbles, watching through lowered lashes as he makes his way around the kitchen island. “Just…you know. Um. It’s not really fair.”

“Yeah? What’s not?”

Frank’s close now. He smells of sweat and sunshine, and he should smell gross so why she’s suddenly getting poetic about it gives her pause. Enough of a pause for him to huff out a laugh.

Karen’s eyes lower unwittingly to the sharp jut of his jaw and the slopes of his collarbone. She traces it down, over nipples pebbled in the cool apartment air, past the uneven ridges of his abs, and then back up into his amused gaze. She panics. “I can’t walk around without a shirt,” she tries, grappling at something–anything–other than it’s not fair because I want to see you take your shirt off after you take off mine. And then I want it to stay off, and I want to–

“You could take your shirt off.”

Karen gapes at him. “What?”

“I wouldn’t be complainin’.” Frank fixes her with a wide eyed look that she thinks is supposed to mimic innocence.

This is it. This is how I die. Frank Castle is the world hottest roommate and we shouldn’t be flirting. But we definitely are. I think. And he’s–he’s–

–he’s walking away.

“I’ll put a shirt on after my shower,” he tells her, tossing her a grin over his shoulder. The bathroom door closes softly.

—

Now…now he’s just doing it on purpose.

One day Karen sits on the couch and types an article. At soft footsteps she glances up only to meet the wide plane of Frank’s bare chest as he casually traverses the carpet towards the kitchen.

Or another day, late afternoon on a Sunday, she walks into the apartment and he’s doing shirtless push ups in the middle of the living room.

Or another day she comes home from work and he’s cooking dinner in gray sweatpants and her apron—the one that says “whisk it real good” that she got for her birthday from Foggy last year–is far too small on him. Karen stares as her face flames, knowing how the next time she wears it she’ll only think of him.

And then the day that she snaps:

Karen comes home late. It’s nearly eight o clock by the time she manages to get her key in the lock, and she can think of nothing but bed, wine and food. And not particularly in that order.

“Frank,” she calls. “I’m home.”

There’s a scuffle from his room, and then the closing of a door before he appears in the hall. He has a guilty look on his face that almost distracts her from his shirtlessness. Almost.  

“What?”

“i got somethin’ to show ya.” He pauses. “Don’t be mad.”

Karen sets her bag down, eyeing him with trepidation. “O…kay…”

With a gesture, Frank leads her back to his bedroom. She’s only been inside it once or twice–she knows it’s sparsely decorated, neatly kept, and the bed is always made. In any other instance she’d be excited that he’s bringing her into his space. Now, with the tautness of his shoulders and stiff, awkward smile–she’s just nervous. He puts a hand on the doorknob and then pauses, looking back at her.

“It’s nothing bad,” he starts, and then opens the door before she can reply.

A large ball of fur comes barrelling towards her and careens into her legs. Karen yelps, stumbling forward into the room. Her hip bumps his dresser but she doesn’t pay it any heed.

“Frank–”

“Aw, come on, Kare–” Frank leans down to scoop the excitable, yipping puppy into his arms. It’s young with that blueish grey sheen of a pitbull and wide blue eyes. It wiggles in his arms in an attempt to escape, snout sniffing in her direction.

Karen crosses her arms, trying and failing miserably to be upset with this new development. She certainly doesn’t have time to take care of a puppy, but if Frank wants to she knows she’ll be unable to say no. He takes in her failing stern expression as he wrestles with the writhing mass of fur in his arms.

“She’s just a puppy,” he says in a rush. “I found her out behind the buildin’. She was diggin’ through trash, Karen. I figured I would bring her in and get her cleaned up and then if you don’t want her in the apartment then I’d–…”

He doesn’t finish, trailing off. It’s obvious he didn’t have a plan for her rejecting the dog. Frank peers at her over the puppy’s head, and the image is too much for her to handle. The puppy, the imploring stare he is directing at her, his half-naked state, being in his room with his masculine, earthy smell in the air–Karen huffs and smiles in defeat. “What’s her name?”

Frank’s eyes widen, and then his grin nearly knocks her over. He steps closer and hoists the puppy up, holding her so that Karen can pet her. The dog nearly falls out of his arms with excitement when Karen starts to stroke her soft fur. Karen laughs. Frank watches her, smile gentling.

“I liked Blue.” He meets her gaze with a touch of shyness. “Unless you can think of somethin’ better.”

He’s standing close enough that she can feel the heat of him on her skin. At this distance, she sees the five o'clock shadow across his face. He smells of laundry and cologne and a little bit of wet dog, but that doesn’t stop her from stepping close. “I like Blue. We can keep her.”

His expression perks up, and then quickly shifts to cautious hope. He ducks his head slightly, hiding a smile. “We?”

Something tells her that if she were to inch closer, lean close and brush her lips over his, he wouldn’t mind. That instinct is right because before she can muster up the courage, Frank beats her to it. His kiss is brief and chaste. He pulls away to gauge her reaction but Karen pulls him back impatiently, slotting her mouth over his in a kiss that he reciprocates gladly. It would almost be perfect except for–

“Blue,” Karen sighs, pulling away as the dog clambors out of Frank’s arms into her own. The puppy whines excitedly, licking at Karen’s cheek until she laughs and pulls away. “Okay, okay. You’re lucky you’re cute–I’ve been waiting on that forever.”

Frank chuckles, reaching over to scratch under Blue’s chin. When Karen meets his gaze, it’s warm and pleased. She feels it all the way to her toes.

“She’s not sleeping in the bed with us,” she tells him, fighting a smile.

Frank’s eyebrows raise. He huffs. “Try tellin’ her that.”

But she wont–she’ll let the dog sleep in the bed every night as long as Frank’s there too.

[honeyedhoseok]

Once More | V2 Drabble

Genre | smut

Word Count | 6.1K

Warnings | Lots of swearing. Sex. Dirty talk. Cheating and doing-the-do in the worst place possible a.k.a Y/N having NO conscience when it comes to Taehyung.

Summary | Taehyung gets the grand tour of you and Hongbin’s apartment and is determined to leave his mark with you in every room of the house.

A/N | I’m fully aware that this is way too long to be a drabble, but I’m going to continue calling it that!! P.S. Count how many times I used the phrase “once more” in this, I bet it’s a lot lmao. Enjoy! <3

You know it’s wrong. You absolutely know it is. 

It started with Taehyung coming over to keep you company—you were going to be alone for the weekend while Hongbin was on a business trip to the other side of the country—and it was a cold and rainy Friday and you had nothing better to do, so, you’d called him up. 

He’d stepped into your apartment looking a completely unfair amount of delicious. A leather jacket donned his thick upper body, and he had a wide, black headband pushing his bangs back from his forehead—simultaneously keeping his ears warm from the wind whipping around outside and providing a bit of effortless fashion to his outfit. 

He’d shed his jacket immediately upon coming in, revealing a loose white T-shirt underneath. You tried not to make your trailing eyes obvious when he bent down to unlace his boots, grazing over the flexed muscles of his shoulders and back through the thin material. 

It was unfair, really. He’d planned the whole thing on purpose, you think—no simple-minded man would ever be able to dress themselves this good.

You’d watched Taehyung look around. “Oh that’s right,” you’d said. “You haven’t seen the apartment yet, have you?”

Taehyung had hummed in agreement, looking about as interested in an apartment tour as one would be about going to the dentist. 

It probably didn’t help that before you’d asked him to come over, you two had been going at it through text in a rather flirty fashion. There may or may not have been mention of what Taehyung was going to do to you the next time he saw you.  

His smokey gaze had trailed you from head to toe before he gestured an arm out. “Lead the way, madam,” he’d said lowly. 

You’d walked into the kitchen, turning around in a circle. “Well, this is the kitchen, where I’m supposed to cook meals but a lot of nothing happens—” 

And that’s how you found yourself pressed up against one of the counters, Taehyung’s lips smashed against yours as he greedily swallowed the rest of your sentence with indecent licks into your mouth with his sinful tongue.  

So yeah, you know it’s wrong. But with Taehyung’s knee spreading your legs apart, his hands entangled in your hair and pulling your head to one side so that he can attach his lips to the soft spot under your ear—it all seems so right. 

“Keep going with the tour,” he murmurs against your clavicle, fingers digging into your sides. “Tell me more.” 

“Uh, okay,” you say, opening your eyes briefly and looking for something else to talk about while Taehyung trails his lips down your jaw and back. “We um, bought that table set from—oh!” 

Taehyung leans down to wrap his hands around your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you over to said kitchen table, setting you down on it so that you two are almost eye-level before pressing his lips back to your neck.  

“—table’s, really, nice—” he murmurs in between nips at your shoulder, pulling the soft fabric of your loose T-shirt down to give himself more access. “Sturdy.” 

Okay, so maybe you’d worn something loose and drapey on purpose. Maybe you’d worn the leggings that you knew made your ass look good. Maybe.  

Taehyung suddenly grabs your hips through those leggings, bringing your heated core to rub against the very obvious bulge in his soft, black joggers. You realize only then that you two are sort of wearing matching sweats, and the thought has you smiling into Taehyung’s kiss.  

“Next?” he grunts, scooping you off the table in one swift motion, and you wrap your legs around his thin waist, locking your hands behind his neck.  

You two make out as Taehyung walks—and briefly, you find yourself wondering where in the hell he got all this strength from. As he pulls away from your mouth again, you nibble on his bottom lip a little, earning a whimper-like noise from the back of Taehyung’s throat that has you giddy realizing you could produce such a sound from him.  

He lays you—or rather, you fall—back on the couch, and Taehyung wastes no time hovering over you, his knee back between your legs and placing light pressure on your most sensitive areas.  

You squirm a little as he leans down, eyes alight with want, dark pupils searching yours with a kind of hunger that makes your insides feel like jello.  

“Tell me about this couch,” he murmurs. “Real leather?” 

“Fake,” you gasp as Taehyung’s hand dives under your shirt, fingers finding purchase around one of your nipples as he shoves your bra out of the way. “Authentic leather is—“ 

“Expensive,” he says, grinning. “I know. What about the TV? How many inches?” 

You smirk at him, but you shrug. “Fifty?” 

Taehyung’s hand stills. “Just fifty?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Oh, he could have done better than that, Y/N!” 

You narrow your eyes at him, realizing suddenly it’s a jab at Hongbin. Taehyung hated that Hongbin was so well off—not because Taehyung was jealous, but because Hongbin was the type to tell other people about his accomplishments. Often.   

You reach up to bring his mouth back to yours, hoping to kill the game and focus on other, more important topics—such as the way your underwear are now sticking to you in a most uncomfortable fashion—but Taehyung stiffens, letting his mouth hover inches from yours.  

“Tae,” you whine, and you can tell by the flash of humour in his eyes he’s about to keep you from getting what you want.  

“You’re being greedy,” he scolds, leaning down enough to press a smoldering—albeit, closed-mouth—kiss to your lips that leaves you narrowing your eyes. “What about the rest of my tour?” 

Leave it to Taehyung to be such a fucking tease at a time where you want to speed things along. He’s good for this—amping up your emotions and then slowing everything down again when you get into it.  

His hand slides from your breast, fingertips trailing along the curves of your stomach until he reaches the waistband of your leggings. Your bite your bottom lip as you watch him with hooded eyes, watch his tongue run along his teeth in contemplation.  

It’s not like Taehyung hasn’t been there before. But right now, the atmosphere is heavy in the room because the realization dawns that it’s just you two, alone, in an apartment again for the first time since—  

“You’re pretty,” he murmurs, suddenly. “You know that?” 

The earnest tone to his voice makes your skin flush, a warmth that travels from your cheeks to the skin of your neck, shoulders and downward. You wonder what he sees right now, with you laying underneath him, your hair pushed back from your face, lips probably swollen and dry from all the kissing, eyes searching his for a hint of insincerity.  

You wonder, also, if he realizes what you see right now. Him, hovering above you with one hand pressed into the couch cushion near your head, the other tracing patterns into the soft skin of your lower stomach. Taehyung’s pretty lips parted, shallow breaths escaping. The smooth, tanned skin of his cheeks, his forehead, his neck and the vein protruding that you want so desperately to run your tongue along. He’s gorgeous—unbelievably so—and he’s yours, if you want him to be.  

To curb the feeling warming up in your gut, you bat your eyelashes at him.  

“Just pretty?” you ask. “I’m not sexy in this outfit made solely for cleaning the house or practicing yoga?” 

Taehyung grins. He pulls you up so that you’re both sitting, blinking the fog out of his eyes as the same ferocity from earlier replaces it. “Oh you’re plenty sexy,” he states. “Come here.” 

You scoot closer to him and he envelops your mouth with his again. He kisses you soft at first, warming you back up, and then his hands are in your hair, mouth slanted against yours with fervor, his tongue sneaking out to lace with yours.  

You settle back into it; this you can do. What you can’t do is think too hard about the freckle that dots the tip of Taehyung’s nose. Or the way he smiles. Or the cute little cackle he lets out when he finds a funny meme on his phone that he just has to share with you. 

“Next—room,” you breathe in between kisses. “The tour?” 

Taehyung pulls back from you a few moments later, looking at you with smoldering eyes. You raise your eyebrows at him in question.  

“Yes,” he murmurs, pulling you off the couch. “Continue, angel.” 

He lets you walk, but wraps his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder so that you have to do an awkward waddle-walk with his weight dragging you down. You’re in the hallway, now, with three rooms left to conclude your game.  

You point to the first door to the left. “Guest bathroom,” you say.  

“Nothing to see in there,” Taehyung replies. You giggle as he presses light kisses up the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Next?” 

“Guest bedroom,” you say, the two of you walking to the door on the far right. You push it open and Taehyung stops mouthing at your skin long enough to take a glance.  

The guest room has a minimalist appeal to it—a plain, white duvet sits on the full-sized bed with a dresser and small bookshelf off to the side. Your desktop computer is tucked into the corner of the room, and some paintings and a rug are all that offer any creative flair. Hongbin wanted to decorate more, but you’d chided him against it. It was a room that was rarely ever going to get used, what was the need in putting expensive decor in?  

Taehyung’s hands disappear from your sides as he walks into the room, looking around at everything, peering through the blinds at the parking lot below.  

“I’m not getting a good vibe from this room,” he says, shaking his head. “Something’s definitely off.” 

You see a trace of a smile skirting around the edges of his lips, and you decide to play along, again.  

“Oh?” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Tell me more, interior designer Kim.” 

He’s still sporting that thick black headband even though it’s comfortably warm in your apartment, and you watch him shake the long bangs sitting on his forehead out of his face before he speaks.  

“Come sit on the bed,” he says, running his fingers along the duvet. “Maybe this room needs something . . . sexy?” 

You roll your eyes but walk in after him. You sit on the edge of the mattress, watching Taehyung round the side of the bed with appreciative eyes. 

“Lie down.”

You do, stretching a little as you lift your arms over your head. You feel your shirt slide to reveal your stomach, and Taehyung’s eyes dart down at it. He licks his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue before he speaks, “No, no, that’s not it. There’s something else wrong.”

Taehyung leans over you on the bed, fingertips trailing the expanse of exposed skin underneath your belly button. The action has goosebumps arising, his face hovering inches from yours so that with every exhale, you feel a whisper of his breath across your lips.  

“Kiss me,” you say quietly.  

And he does. Taehyung kisses you until you’re breathless, until your head is spinning, until your mouth and lips feel dry and used, until your hands are entangling themselves in the soft tresses of his hair, pulling the black headband off and throwing it somewhere on the floor so the strands hang and tickle your checks when he pulls back to look at you, panting.  

“There’s one more stop on the tour,” he murmurs. “Want to finish up?” 

You nod, and Taehyung gives you one more soft kiss before pulling you up and off the bed. You trail him into the hallway, twisting the knob on the door to your bedroom and slowly stepping inside. 

It’s a bit more decorated than the guest room—a fluffy, grey duvet covers the bed with matching throw pillows and decorations. Hongbin cared a lot about aesthetics, and so you’d went with a cool-toned theme for the master, but you’d kept it feeling more like home with small added decorations to suit your own taste. A framed picture of you two sat on the bedside and a fluffy, decorative rug lay in the center of the room. There were string lights around your vanity, and a bookshelf with lots of Hongbin’s files and notebooks filling the shelves. 

You realize suddenly, upon looking at the room with another person, that it still looked like no one lived there. The bed was made perfectly like a hotel room, the curtains were drawn and not a single thing was out of place; even the throw pillows were placed in their proper spots on the duvet. The only thing slightly messy about the room was the dirty laundry basket—but even that was passable to the eye because the outside was a patterned grey fabric that fit with the theme.  

You don’t have anything to say about it, not even a joke to throw Taehyung’s way.  

When you look at his face finally, it turns your stomach to wonder what he might be thinking. He tongues the inside of his cheek in thought, his face impassive as he gives the room a slow once-over.  

“So, this is the master,” you say quietly. “This is—”

“Your bedroom,” he answers, and his tone makes your heartbeat triple. It’s a low murmur, so low it sounds like a hum. Taehyung takes a deep breath and walks toward the bed, spreading a small wrinkle on the duvet out with his hand. “What happens here?” 

“Taehyung,” you say, shaking your head. You can’t read the atmosphere anymore, and it feels awkward suddenly. What were you thinking, bringing him in here?  

Taehyung is quiet for a minute, before a wicked grin splits his face. “Now this room feels right.” 

“What?” You say, shocked.  

In seconds, Taehyung has you on your back on the bed, his face devilish in nature as he crawls over top of you. You look at him wide eyes, wondering how he can’t hear how loud your heartbeat is pounding underneath your thin t-shirt.  

“This is where it happens, huh?” Taehyung says slowly, drawing his face near yours. “This is where you and Hongbin make love?”  

The comment is mocking, as always. You swallow harshly, unsure of how to answer. Taehyung’s nose skims along your jawline and you close your eyes, fighting the urge to melt under his light touches. Even though you don’t answer, he continues. 

“In a room like this? It’s pristine in here,” he says, tutting under his breath. “He must not do it right.” 

You dare to ask, “Do-do what, right, exactly?” 

Taehyung stops tracing long enough to lick a bold stripe along your neck, letting his teeth graze the spot. How he’s able to keep such control over his actions for so long you have no idea—you just want him to kiss you again already. Take off your clothes. Touch you, for God’s sake. 

“Fuck you,” he hums simply. “Make you cum.”  

The words are enough to make your core clench, and Taehyung pulls back to look into your eyes. Back is the emotion filling them from earlier, except it’s intensified. Taehyung’s mind is set now, and there’s no going back—but his isn’t the only one.  

You and Taehyung hadn’t pushed your boundaries much. You were careful about your sneaking around—never going all the way because you were never fully alone with him. But this time was different. There was a bed, a locked door, and a complete evening by yourself. If you were being honest, you’d been contemplating those thoughts since the moment he stepped into your apartment.  

There’s something so dangerously enticing about sneaking around with Taehyung that your brain can't quite wrap around how wrong it is until after it happened. He was too easy to get caught up in, too easy to just be with—which is exactly what was happening again as you opened your mouth to respond to him.  

You pull him close, letting your lips brush against his a little as you whisper, “Show me, then,” you say. “Show me how you’d do it, Taehyung.” 

It’s a brash move. It’s a brash move you’ve never made before in your life, but Taehyung responds to it exactly how you hoped he would: his eyes darken, and he pulls back as if to give you a moment to breathe, to re-process what you just said to him.  

“No games,” you said, feeling shaky and breathless. “I’m tired of waiting.” 

Yes, your lust may have been consuming your thoughts, pushing out any sensibility you had left and replacing it with an unrelenting desire for Taehyung—but at the same time, it was a statement filled with the truth.  

Since that fated day when Taehyung came back into your life, your physical chemistry with him was unmatched when compared to any previous person you’d been with. He made you feel alive, made the bones that made up your body feel like they were bursting with light between the joints when he looked at you sometimes. If you believed in soulmates—you weren’t sure yet—every moment with Taehyung made you a little more convinced.  

But the physical attraction was just the surface of what you had with him. Here you were, in a long-term relationship with Hongbin, but you were constantly thinking about Taehyung. Texting him. Calling him. Spilling your guts to him when something was wrong. Wanting to see him, touch him, kiss him.  

Maybe you were in love with him. Or, rather, you were still in love with him from all those years ago.  

“Are you sure?” Taehyung asks, swallowing, and then licking his dry lips.  

Your train of thought stutters at the question, still lingering on the concept of loving him and so your eyes widen a fraction. Taehyung takes it as hesitation. 

He leans back further. “We don’t have to do this, Y/N—” 

“No, no, no,” you say, finally gathering your bearings. You place a slightly shaking hand on his chest—when you see your fingers trembling you ball them up in his shirt, tugging him down a little. “God, I’m—can you just, kiss me?” 

“I’d be honored to,” he murmurs with a smile, dipping his head down to press his lips softly against yours once more.  

They envelop yours with a fervor, diving in to capture the very breath from your lungs and leave you lingering in the afterthought of what it’s like to be intimate with Taehyung. He is all breath and lips, nips and grazes along your skin, hands grasping and mouths brushing and complete and utter melting into the way that he caresses your body.  

You lift Taehyung’s white t-shirt over his head, letting your nails scrape between the dent in his shoulder blades as he hovers above you. Your quiet, neat bedroom with Hongbin is filled with the smacks of mouths, sighs from you as Taehyung ravishes your neck with his lips, and the shuffling of bodies and light thumps as clothes are removed one by one and tossed onto the floor. 

When you’re in just your panties and Taehyung is in his briefs, the two of you pause, eyeing the other up as if to reassess the situation once more, give yourself one more time to stop it. But you don’t want to. All you can think about is how it’s never like this with Hongbin—your heart hasn’t raced this fast in years, your hands haven’t literally been shaking with want, nervousness and excitement because Hongbin has never whispered how beautiful your body is before giving the bottom curve of your breast a sensual nip.  

You’re not shy with Taehyung. Your upper body on full display for him is nothing, because he looks at you like you are the most ethereal human he’s ever laid his eyes on.  

Sexy isn’t a word you’ve thrown around before today, but you know that it completely and totally describes Taehyung. He is so confident with himself that it has you hot and needy under his touch, a demeanor that was unknown to him when you were teenagers. A brief memory crosses your mind of having to remind Taehyung that it was okay to be nervous during one of your first times having sex when he couldn’t get it up—but he has absolutely no problem with that now.  

His length, rock hard in his pants and pressing against your hip as he rests his lower half against your body has your mouth watering with need. You want to see him naked, and when you tell him that, he has the audacity to chuckle between presses of his lips to yours.  

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs. “Ladies first, baby.” 

The nickname sends a shock of nostalgia tingling down your spine but you welcome it, pushing Taehyung so that he’s sitting back on his knees. His dark eyes wander your frame as your hook your thumbs the sides of your panties, shimmying them down your legs and kicking them off and onto the floor.  

“I want to taste you,” Taehyung murmurs, placing his hands on your knees, edging them apart a little bit. “Can I?” 

Your face flushes with the bluntness of his words, but you swallow the tightness in your throat and nod, settling back onto the pillows—Hongbin’s pillows, on his side. Taehyung presses a line of kisses up your leg, taking his time and pressing a few around the place you’ve been waiting for him to ravish since—well, probably since he entered the apartment an hour or so ago.  

“So pretty,” he murmurs somewhere near your thigh.  

You close your eyes as his breath fans out over your pubic area, insides quivering with want as you try to calm your racing heart. You bite onto your lip, trying not to let on how desperate you are for him to touch you—and then he does. 

Taehyung dives in for a kiss between your legs, causing your mouth to take on a silent ‘o’ shape as he licks all the words, thoughts, and brain processes out of your body with confident strokes of his sinful mouth.  

“Fuck, Taehyung—” you gasp, back arching off the bed a little, “Slow down, fuck—” 

Taehyung hums contentedly against your clit, probably chuckling at how powerless you are underneath him. His right arm hooks around your thigh, pushing it up and over his shoulder so his mouth can fit better against the crook of your sex. You feel lightheaded with the way his mouth licks into you, almost embarrassed at how wet you are—not just from his mouth, but from the essences he’s coaxing out of you.  

Your thighs feel hot and sticky, and when Taehyung’s other hand slithers between your legs to press one finger between your folds while he licks smaller ministrations onto your clit, you think you might just lose your mind right then and there.  

You don’t have time to be embarrassed by the whimpers and whines that tumble past your lips as Taehyung works his hand-and-mouth combo that has your walls tightening around his long digit pumping in and out of you. When he adds another, you can’t help but mewl his name. 

 “Taehyung, please, oh my—god, don’t stop—” 

He takes a breather from your battered clit to look up at you with a smirk adorning his mouth, accompanied by everything he just coaxed out of you that makes his chin shiny and glistening.  

“You close?” he asks, slowing down the pace of his fingers so that you can get better adjusted. You’re sure he can tell from the tenseness of you body, the way you’re clenching around his fingers like your life depends on it.  

 “Like this?” he murmurs, and begins hitting that spot within you that has you breathless again. “Cum for me, baby.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper, “Tae—” 

You fall apart around his fingers incredibly quick—a few more strokes is all your insides can take before Taehyung has a moan tearing from your throat with a volume that you can’t remember reaching before now.  

When it feels like you can breathe again, like the world has stopped spinning around you from the force of the orgasm that just ripped through your body, you slump back down onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling of your bedroom in a daze.  

Taehyung crawls over you, coming into your line of sight with a grin plastered on his mouth, and you tug him down for a kiss that has you tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You don’t even care at this point, so fucked out that the bitterness doesn’t bother you like it usually would. 

“You okay?” he asks as he moves to press a small kiss underneath your ear. His tongue traces the shell before he speaks in a quiet voice, “What’s next?”

 There’s only one thing on your mind: “Condom.” You breathe the word out and Taehyung stiffens, pulling back so he can see your eyes again. 

You realize then that Taehyung was only thinking you were going to go to your usual lengths—a bit of touching, some oral maybe—just with the added luxury and excitement of doing it in a bed. 

But now that Taehyung’s strong, beautiful hands aren’t between your legs, the ache has returned. It’s an ache that you feel when you’re around him, when he licks his lips a certain way, or when he adjusts his pants, or when his shirt rises above his waist to show off the light trail of hair leading down into his underwear. And you know what you need to sate it. 

“You sure?” he asks, but the way he bites hard on his bottom lip lets you know he isn’t opposed to it whatsoever. 

“I want you,” you whisper, leaning up from the bed to connect your lips with his again. 

They’re soft against you own, pretty petals meant just for your undoing. Nothing ever feels wrong with Taehyung, and you know that’s your downfall but you can’t do anything about it. With his body pressing into yours in the right places, his cock still half-hard in his briefs and pressing against your inner thigh while he leaves small, soft kisses against the line of your jaw, you know this is what you want. Need. 

You lift your hips against Taehyung’s, reminding him with a brush of your still-wet core against the head of his dick. He stutters against your jaw, and his hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb resting against the curve of your bottom lip. When he looks at you again his eyes are darker, the lids sitting low in a way that makes your stomach clench. 

“You want to fuck,” he murmurs, “right here? In this bed?”

You swallow, heart beating fast in your chest. “Yes.”

Taehyung laughs—actually laughs. “You little minx,” he tuts, shaking his head. 

And then he kisses you—hard—with all teeth and tongue; the breath is stolen from your lungs with the heat of his movements. If there is one thing you know about Taehyung, it’s that he is turned on by shamelessness. When you are quaking with need and willing to get it any way that you can from him is when he’s at his peak—which was precisely what was happening now. 

After separating his lips from yours with an audible smack, he moves off the bed to grab his wallet from his jeans, where a single condom sits in one of the cloth slats. You don’t have time to make a joke about why it’s there before he is removing his briefs, letting his cock spring free from the fabric. When it bobs in the air you swallow harshly, trying not to show how your mouth is quite literally watering at the sight. 

He crawls back on the bed, sitting back on his heels at the end while he works his cock with one hand, bringing the aluminium packet to his mouth and ripping it with his teeth. He spits the piece out on the bed, and you internally remind yourself to make sure it’s picked up later. 

“Like what you see?” he asks with lowered eyes, watching you watch him fist himself and pump up and down his length a few times. 

You hum somewhere in the back of your throat, unable to form words just yet. You sneak a hand down to your clit, running your fingers over the sensitive nub while warming yourself back up. 

Taehyung watches you, his bangs sticking to his forehead a little now from the warmth filling the room—both the heat coming from the vents and the heat of your actions mingling in a way that makes the room feel stifling. 

For just a moment, you try to remember what it was like when you and Taehyung were teenagers, sneaking in little moments in your parents’ houses while they were at work. It was never this hot or needy—though you’re sure your little teenage heart would say otherwise—and it hits you that you and Taehyung aren’t the same people you used to be, but your attraction for each other has never waned.  

Taehyung slides the condom over his length, now fully hard, and his eyes meet yours once again.  

“You okay?” he asks in reassurance for what feels like the millionth time.  

You nod as he crawls back over you, pressing a kiss to the skin of his bare shoulder as he settles between your legs. You hook one over his hip on instinct, dragging him forward with a dig of your heel into the space underneath his butt. You need him, and you need him now.  

When Taehyung finally sinks into you, your head kicks back out of instinct, feeling every glorious inch of him sliding in between your walls in a stretch that is so foreign but so, so good. He releases a low moan as well, the sound sending a shiver up your spine at the way it sounds filled with joy—relief, even.  

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning his head onto your shoulder and nipping at the skin there, “So fucking tight, baby.” 

“I know,” you whimper out, digging your heel a little harder and lifting your hips. “Move, Taehyung, please. Just, move—” 

He obliges, covering your mouth with his to muffle the sounds of your whimpers as he starts a rhythm. Every dip of his hips back down to meet yours has a small, mewling sound spilling from your lips that you have no time to be embarrassed about—everything just feels that good.  

Taehyung’s cock hits all the right places inside you, eliciting a feeling of fullness unknown to your quivering insides. You hold onto his shoulders, digging into his soft, tan skin with blunt nails while he does the same with the hand pressing your knee back, allowing him to angle his hips in a way that has you seeing spots. Your head has inched up towards the bed frame now, and every snap of his hips makes a soft knock of the headboard against the wall.  

“Tae—ugh, oh my god, Taehyung,” you whimper, closing your eyes. You almost don’t want to say anything for the sake of ruining the moment, but he urges you on with breathy narrations.  

“Yeah?” he says, voice low in your ear. You can feel the sweat from his forehead making your shoulder damp as he ruts into you, but you could care less. “What is it—baby? How’s it feel?” 

You moan for him as an answer, but he doesn’t take it. His hips slow down a little and he holds himself up with his hands sinking into the mattress beside your head.  

“Say it,” he coaxes between pants. “Tell me how it feels—to be fucked—right here in your boyfriend’s bed.”

“So good, Tae,” you mewl. 

Your face flushes at the confession, but you want to do it for him. You weren’t one for dirty talk normally. But with Taehyung making the wet mess you feel between your thighs, in this heated moment, you think he could probably get you to say anything. 

“—want you to come,” you say breathlessly. “Wanna see your face—”

“Oh yeah?” he says, hard rocks of his hips accompanying the soft words floating from his lips. His fingers dig into your hips but its a pressure that feels good. “You’re so fucking pretty, god—fucking beautiful body—”

He was always a sweet talker during sex, managing to say the words that made you feel soft and mushy and hot and needy and the same time. You put your hands on either side of his face, pulling his mouth down to yours so that you can sink your teeth into his pretty, pink bottom lip. You pull the flesh into your mouth, sucking on it a little before releasing it with a small pop back against Taehyung’s teeth. 

He grins with a sinful vengeance down at you, his hips starting a faster cadence against your own until the room is filled with nothing but the squelching of your essence and the claps of your thighs against his as he chases his high. 

You squeeze around him, opening your eyes briefly so that you can see his reaction above you: his skin flushed with heat, the muscles of his chest and neck strained with the pursue of his impending release. He looks good like this, the long strands of his hair somewhat sticking to his forehead while others hang down, ticking the tops of your cheeks. The sight of his lip tucked in between his has your core clenching rather harder, and he sucks in a breath at the feeling. 

“Fuck, don’t—” he gasps. “I’m really fucking close.” 

You smooth his hair back, coaxing him now with all the dirtiness of your mouth you can muster.  

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” you whimper, pressing small kisses up his shoulder. “I want you to—want to feel you come all in this pus—”

Taehyung groans loudly as his body stutters, letting your walls milk him for everything his as he finishes with slow, lingering strokes inside of you. After a few more sloppy dips of his hips, e pulls his length out of you, still covered in the condom and softening by the moment. You wince a little at the missing feeling between your legs. He drags his lips across your cheek just as his body goes limp, pressing on top of yours heavily as he struggles to catch his breath afterwards. 

You use to the time to come down from your high as well, enjoying the way Taehyung’s body fits into all the crooks of yours with a comforting, albeit sweaty and sticky, warmth. Your fingertips graze the middle of his back, drawing aimless patterns in the soft, tan skin. 

Taehyung sighs contentedly in your ear, pressing a small kiss there and then a few more in a line that leads back to the corner of your mouth. Down from your Taehyung-induced high, your head feels clearer, your heart sitting a little heavier in your chest as you think about the possible repercussions of what you’ve done.  

Taehyung commands your attention though, pushing his soft lips against yours and coaxing you to make out with him for a minute in your dual, post-coitus bliss. His tongue drags against yours lazily, his hands coming up to push some stray strands of hair off your forehead, fingertips dragging down the side of your face until he has your cheek cradled in his palm.  

He’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts, and your heart beats a little off rhythm as he smiles a sated grin at you, seemingly unaware of your naked bodies still pressed against each other on top of your comforter.  

“You okay?” he asks once more—softer this time, with more implications. His eyes hold a bit of hesitation, almost as if he’s scared of you giving him a real answer instead of your usual one.  

But you are okay, and so you say it, watching his small smile split into an even prettier grin. He kisses the tip of your nose and the tops of both your cheeks before he sighs in satisfaction.  

“Well,” he says, humming deep in his throat. You watch his eyes alight with mischievousness. “This might be the best room in the house now—don’t you think?”

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Lessons in Love (Bucky x Reader) - Part 7

Synopsis: You finally begin to understand why Bucky isn’t as whole as he once was.

Words: 1601

Warnings: mentions of smut, talk of death

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

You stretched amongst the warm blanket, enjoying the soft mattress under your body. The sound of the shower was a comforting background noise as you sat up from the tangle of sheets and blankets. The air was warm from the heating, the sweat still coating your skin. You looked out the huge window, looking down at the people hurrying past on the street.

You shrunk back, becoming aware of your nakedness. You didn’t need strangers seeing you. You turned away, taking in the room in a way you hadn’t yet had a chance to. In the two months you’d been coming here, you hadn’t had time to look around.

You walked out of the room, sparing a glance for the still open bathroom door. Steam was billowing out and you knew you might be waiting a while. He liked long showers, disappearing for long stretches of time as you tried to come back to earth.

You wandered through the living room, trailing your fingers along the cool leather of the sofa. You paused, looking down at the coffee table. Papers were scattered over it, some with red pen marks all over them. You picked one up, your eyes flicking over the words. Half of it was crossed out, angry words almost carved into the paper from a pen pushing too hard with each word.

You tried to read the printed words under the writing, not understanding it. You put it back, sinking down onto the couch. You looked around the room, wondering how much there was you didn’t know about this man. Almost everything, you were sure. After all, you didn’t spend much time talking. Your tongues were too busy to be forming words.

You stood up again, wandering into the kitchen. You reached up, opening the cupboards until you found glasses. You filled one with water from the tap, wrapping your hands around the cool glass. You took a sip from it, turning around to lean on the counter as you surveyed the room.

There was a bookcase across from you, almost bowing from the sheer number of books. You tilted your head, trying to see what he had, what made up his collection. It was an odd mix of fiction and non-fiction, high literature and trashy novels, biographies and history books combined with seemingly no rhyme or reason.

You walked over, trying to figure out how he had ordered the book, unable to understand. It wasn’t done by topic, by author, by title, by colour. It seemed to be random, each one shoved in where it could fit. You clenched your fingers around the glass, tilting your head again.

A flash of silver in the corner of your eye caught your attention. You turned your head, wondering what he was keeping on the shelf. You reached out, pulling an almost buried picture frame. You brushed the dust from the glass, looking down at the picture.

A laughing Bucky looked up at you, his head thrown back. His hair was short, well styled, and he looked well put together. He wasn’t weighed down by whatever it was he carried around with him these days. His arm was around a tall blonde man. He had glittering blue eyes, a huge smile full of white teeth, his arm around Bucky.

You ran your fingers over Bucky’s face, surprised to see him so carefree. You hadn’t thought he could ever be carefree. You felt stupid for assuming he didn’t do carefree.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was sharp and the picture frame was tugged out of your hand. You spun around, looking up into the angry eyes of Bucky.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded.

“I found it on your bookshelf,” you replied.

“And why were you looking at my bookshelf?” he asked.

“I was bored.” You shrugged, not sure what the big deal was. It was just a picture of two men. Admittedly it had shocked you, but you didn’t think it was anything to get worked up over.

He turned away from you, hunching over as he looked down at the picture. You weren’t sure what to do. You felt uncomfortable, not used to any real emotion from this man. It was usually purely physical.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked, your voice small.

His shoulders slumped and he sunk onto the couch. He put the frame down on the table, pushing his fingers into his hair as he hung his head. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, waiting for some kind of answer. He sighed, looking back up to you.

“Come here.”

His voice was gruff but he held a hand out to you. You walked up, your glass still clutched in your hands. He rested his hand on your hip, pulling you towards him. He took the glass from you, putting it down on the coffee table, pulling you a step closer.

You were standing between his legs, looking down at him. You threaded your fingers into his hair, pushing it off his face. His fingers tightened on your hip but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, bringing his head forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. You curled forward over the top of him, not expecting this, wondering what could bring this man to this. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“His name was Steve and we were in a car crash,” he said, his voice muffled against the skin of your stomach.

Your skin grew cold and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. You ran your fingers through his hair again, the only comfort you were able to give. He drew back form you, dragging you forward with the hand on your hip.

You stumbled, unbalanced, and landed in his lap. He kissed you, harsh and intense, all teeth and tongue. Your fingers reflexively tightened in his hair. He growled low in his throat and pushed you off him. You landed on the sofa cushion with a soft bounce, barely having time to catch your breath before he was pinning you down, hovering over you.

You blinked up at him. He ran his hand up your leg, the callouses scraping against your vulnerable skin. You arched up into his touch, almost embarrassed by how quickly your mind switched. He chuckled, low and dangerous, pressing his lips to the underside of your jaw. He dragged his tongue down your skin, his head dipping down as he moved down your body. You moaned, so loud in the quiet apartment.

He bent your leg, bringing it up against his hip. He pressed himself against you, his denim covered bulge rubbing against your sensitive flesh. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he licked one of your nipples into his mouth. You arched into him.

A loud knocking rang out throughout the apartment. Bucky groaned, stilling his movements. You whined, clutching at his shoulders but he sat up, pushing your hands off your body. He pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa, draping it over your body. You whined again.

He sauntered over to the door, glancing back at you over his shoulder with a slow smirk. You flushed, leaning up on your elbows to watch him. He pulled the door open.

A man was standing on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest. He pushed past Bucky, not bothering with a greeting. He stopped when he saw you there.

“Seriously?” he demanded, whirling around to watch as Bucky closed the door.

“Is there a reason you’ve interrupted my day, Sam?” Bucky asked, leaning back on the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. You let your eyes roam over the long lines of his body. You shifted under the blanket.

“You asked me to come over,” the man said, “said it was an emergency.”

“So I did.”

“I knew I should have left you to deal with whatever shit you got into on your own.”

His gaze flicked over the man’s shoulder’s, meeting your’s. You felt yourself flush again, gathering the blanket around you. He pushed past the other man, sitting down on the edge of the couch to push your hair off your face. You blinked up at him, hoping for some kind of explanation.

“Perhaps you should go,” he said, his voice little more than a murmur.

“Yeah,” you replied.

You sat up clutching the blanket to your chest. He wrapped it tighter around you, keeping your modesty intact. You shuffled into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

You let the blanket drop from your body, collecting your clothes from where Bucky had thrown them earlier. You kept glancing over your shoulder, the quiet murmur of voices on the other side the only sound. You sat on the bed to pull on your boots, your mind whirling over everything that had happened that day. Nothing had gone the way you’d expected.

You pulled open the bedroom door, running your fingers through your hair to try and restore some semblance of order. The two men were standing on almost opposite sides of the room in a terse silence.

“See you tomorrow, darling,” Bucky said when he saw you.

You nodded, walking between the two. The cold air of the hallway wrapped around you. You shivered, turning to close the door on the two men in the warm apartment.

“I didn’t realise you saw them more than once,” the stranger, Sam, said.

“You don’t realise a lot of things,” Bucky replied as you closed the door.

Tags: @libellule2001 @sebs-daybreak

[writingsofmyimagination]

Instinct |4|

An unwelcome blast from the Captain’s trainee days comes back to the Scouting Regiment and old habits die hard

Levi x Reader

Warnings:SMUT (fingering, penetration, BDSM, Dom Levi), swearing.

Instinct: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

Words:3379

Want to be tagged? let me know.

Not 100% happy with this chapter but I’ve been staring at it for long enough now.

Happy Reading :)

You’d be lying to yourself if you denied the small smirk etching onto your face as you dressed and felt the pangs of soreness from last night. You ventured down passed the full food hall buzzing with noise; it was easy to forget there was nearly a whole regiment here and not just the Special Op’s Squad and the newbies. There was a slight breeze in the air which toyed joyously with your hair, the new recruits should be joining you in a few minutes. You took a moment to look up at the sky high enough to ignore the walls, it was a false comfort but in the current situation it was as good as it could be.

“Ah, Corporal Y/N glad I caught you” you turned and waited a few moments for Erwin to join you.

“Are you off somewhere exciting Commander?”

“I have a meeting with Commander Pixis, I’m just about to head off. I heard about your altercation yesterday and just wanted to check in” He waited and looked at you expectantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry Commander, it won’t happen again. We’ve spoken and sorted things out”

“Well I’m glad to hear it, I would be lying if I said I didn’t expect any minor bumps with you two. But I cannot the stress the importance of us all being united at such a crucial time”

“I understand that Sir” You expected him to carry on and prepared to be scolded but it never came.

“Besides, I dare say your actions will cement your authority and strength among the regiment” a slight smile crept onto his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Well taking Levi out like that” he chuckled lightly before continuing “I guarantee no one else here or ever will have the courage or even dare to raise a hand to him, I’m sure your actions will be remembered” Before responding you had to have a light chuckle to yourself

“To be honest Commander I think I’m the only one he’ll ever let get away with such things” you stated.

“What tortures are you exposing them too today?” Erwin enquired strategically changing the topic of conversation.

“Fitness, I don’t want them to use the ODM gear as a crutch as many in the Garrison tend to do.”

“Ah, very good. Hope all goes well, I will see you later Corporal” Relieved Erwin approved of your methods you saluted him as he took his leave.

    “Morning Cadets, hope you rested and ate well” You scanned all the faces trying to get a sense of their moods today.

“Ready as ever” Eren blurted out enthusiasm high. You repressed a smile as you glimpsed all the others rolling their eyes. Levi finally made it over to you still putting his jacket on.

“So today you will be doing fitness circuits so you can leave your ODM gear here” the unanimous groan indicating you’d considerably deflated their moods was heavy in the air.

“I know, I know, no one likes fitness but you must learn that while ODM gear is great you must also have good physical fitness. If you look just beside the trees” you gave them all a few seconds to follow your gaze. “That’s the start point, every 200m there will be alternating coloured markers. Red markers you will sprint at 70%, orange 50%, yellow 20% and at green you can walk”

“For how long do you expect us to do that for” Mikasa asked bluntly.

“10 laps”

“What but the laps are huge” the young Connie Springer whined.

“Look you can have me set the fitness out or Levi who’d you rather?” The recruits stripped off their gear and made their way to the start marker.

“Using me as a threat now?” Levi looking ahead at the course you’d set.

“Well it worked didn’t it, whether out of fear or respect I’m not sure but it works” you chuckled.

“I don’t care as long as the brats do what’s asked of them” Levi folded his arms maintaining his strong stance.

“Can’t argue with that logic, you do command well, they all listen to you” His eyebrow raised slightly as he gave you a sideways glance

“Ugh, I’d much rather you go back to attacking my face” he never could take compliments.

“You’d enjoy that too much, just take a compliment for Christ’s sake”

You both observed the suffering recruits in silence and for once you felt like you needed to get some things off your chest that had been clawing at you ever since you arrived.

“You know I never blamed you for what happened right? It was my choice to ignore orders and save you” His head dropped, a reluctant sigh left his lips. He contemplated for a moment and your stomach turned to knots waiting for a response.

“The worst thing was that you thought my life was more valuable than mine” The response kneed you in the stomach, you’d never expect him to reply so solemnly and with such sadness in his tone. You forgot how equally Levi valued all life and how deeply he hated innocent, fruitless deaths.

“Well considering how you turned out to be ‘Humanity’s Strongest’ I don’t see it as a bad choice” you neglected your feelings and responded more light heartedly than you wanted to. He knew you well enough to know your defence mechanisms. You watched as the frown grew deep on his forehead

“Enough of that bullshit!” he growled “I’d happily fuck that attitude right out of you”

Your lips twitched upwards at his words.

“Not a bad idea Captain” his expression rushed to mirror yours

“Is the old cabin area still there?” you inquired

“Not been touched for years” Levi responded with a hint of excitement he couldn’t contain.

“Well I guess you’ll be keeping me awake tonight then”

 The day dragged, each minute longer than the last. You waited constantly for the sun to go down, you were agitated and everyone around you knew it. The lethal looks you shot to Levi at the dinner table as his hands kept wandering up your thigh never reaching where you needed them. You made little conversation, all your energies focused on not smacking him in the jaw and trying to maintain some control over your aching core. The HQ once again sipped into stillness, you avoided the creaky floorboards with expert precision. Your hands suppressing any movement of your ODM gear, Levi was waiting for you outside holding a torch and the reigns of his horse in the other. You didn’t speak as you collected your horse from the stable. The mouth of the forest was dead in front of you when you finally broke the silence.

“Race ya” you exclaimed, kicking in your stirrups and racing ahead through the trees. The heavy snorts of Levi’s stallion approaching on your left shoulder spurred you on further. The air rushing passed your ears in cold whooshes. You reached a small clearing amongst the trees and yanked at the reigns halting your horse with a loud neigh.

“Still a better rider than you Captain” you bragged, dismounting from your steed and Levi from his.

“I know you secretly hate losing” you spoke in his ear pushing him up against a tree, he tangled his hand in your hair and tugged.

“Get into that watchtower”

You separated from him and released your gear and flew up in to the tower. The wooden planks had grown dark and patchy with moss, as Levi joined you with the torch the misuse of the watchtower was even more apparent. You unhooked your gear and it clattered to the floor. You took the bag Levi had brought up and pulled out the thick blanket and flung it over the floor.

His fingers hooked through your belt loops and pulled you crashing into him, your heavy breathing seemed amplified from the silence around you as your lips battled and danced on his. He pushed you back

“Now, you will do as I say no exceptions, understand?” you responded biting your lip arched in a devilish grin.

“Turn around and take off your shirt” he ordered, that tone wreaked havoc in between your legs. You complied teasing the buttons one by one, Levi gently swept your shirt from your shoulders and it dropped to the floor. Although it wasn’t particularly cold your nipples were stood to fierce attention. You looked down to your left shoulder and followed his fingers ghosting along your shoulder delicately before crossing over to your stomach, his other hand was clamped at the back of your neck

“Don’t you move your hands” he warned, his hand sinking below your waistband. You gasped, rolled your head into his chest obediently keeping your hands at your sides.

“Good girl, now lose the rest” His hand leaving your core throbbing and untied his cravat. You stripped down to just your briefs, you felt your own eyes flash as he took off his clothes. He paused for a moment absorbing the view until the bubbling desire within him spilled over and he pounced on you. One hand firmly gripped at the sides of your throat, the other digging into your hip. The intensity of the kiss funnelled so much heat through your system your lungs could not capacitate the air you needed.

“On the floor princess!” he scowled. Levi fished out two lengths of rope from the bag.

“Hands to ankles! I know how much it frustrated you when you couldn’t have your hands on me” You wriggled subtly as he pulled of your underwear before tying your left wrist to you left ankle and the same with your right wrist, there was a small amount of length he’d given you to move but not much.

“I can’t believe I get to do this to you again” He climbed on top of you pressing his knee against you

“Levi” you breathed

“Oh you need to be louder than that brat!” his words rolled of your neck. You almost squealed as he thrust two fingers inside you. You pulled at the rope, the roughness already making work of grating on your skin.

“That’s better” he praised “You always feels so good for me”. His palm pressed onto your clit, his fingers angled up in a come hither motion but tortuously slow.

“Faster, please” you begged through your heavy breathing.

“You’re not in a position to make demands princess” He pushed in even harder dragging your back off the floor into an arch as your muscles tightened.

“Tell me how good it feels” he fished. You smiled up at his stern face, his hair had fallen across the front of his face.

“Feels like you’re out of practice” you lied, pushing into him.

“Is that so? Well I’ll guess I just have to keep you on edge a bit longer then so I can practice some more” Regret swamped you instantly, his fingers sped up inside you, consistently stroking your sweet spot, his mouth clamped onto your neck; his teeth biting at your skin. Your wrists were sore, you twisted what rope you could in your hand to bring some relief to your sore skin. His fingers left you, teetering dangerously on the edge. His tongue wrapped around your clit and you pleasantly suffered with each lick and circle, he slowed his pace. An exasperated sigh left you, you felt his mouth twist into a smile.

Bastard

He removed all contact, gripped your arm tightly and pushed you onto your side.

“You ready for me beautiful?”

The slight undertone of his affection sent you back reimagining the rare moments when you were training and he’d look at you with a certain fondness or he’d tuck your hair behind your ear with delicate fingers slyly in hallways.

“Fuck, yes!” He untied the ropes and allowed you to get comfortable, you completely ignored the ache in you limbs. He swept you hair away from your back and kissed you with soft lips. You twisted to see him lay down behind you, he swept your hair over the front of your shoulder and kissed the back of your neck before re-tying your hands behind your back. Fingertips danced eloquently down your outline ghosting over your sex before he pushed you more onto your chest and spread your spread legs just enough for him to run his cock through your arousal before slowly pushing into you.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed under your breath.

“I’ve missed hearing you say that” You was way too absorbed in how he felt to respond, his thrusts were slow and back to being torturous. He remembered your body, how your body writhed against his, how your leg muscles started to twitch as the coils wound tighter and tighter, how you clenched around him when he yanked your hair back.

He halted all movements earning nothing but protested whines and whimpers from your lips. The cool air around you didn’t affect you anymore, your own rising body heat keeping you insulated.

“You’re going to ride me until you cum, I want to see your face, I want to see you come undone and lose yourself on me” Levi was never one for much detailed pillow talk but when it happened it certainly did things.

“You must be feeling generous” you teased with a slight tinge of suspicion climbing onto his waist; a perfect willing partner, he normally played with you until the point of tears.

“I’m not as selfish as I was” he offered as an underhanded apology. Your wrists were red raw and burning you didn’t even dare try and soothe them, holding his hands you lowered yourself onto him and savoured the sensation before your hips started rocking. Levi hummed a moan, both of your movements fell into perfect sync, the sound of your moans escalating amplified by the silence flooding the area; neither of you had the capacity to care at this point. You could feel his thighs begin to tense spurring your hips into a faster rhythm racing him to the edge. His eyes were determined, focused on you despite the pleasure trying to drag them closed and roll them back

His body began quivering shortly followed by a deep groan as his cock twitched inside you. The small contractions were enough to send you tumbling of the edge into your own powerful climax.

 You both redressed in silence with the occasional smirk at each other, you couldn’t deny sneaking around heated the situation.

Arriving back at the base the flicker of candles illuminating the large meeting hall was the only light remaining, you stole a glance at one another

Okay lets be quiet you thought

“I don’t think so” boomed Erwin’s deep voice as you both tried to play stealth past the meeting room door.

“Oh shit!” Levi exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

You quickly scurried into a chair opposite where Levi had flung himself with Erwin stone faced at the head of the table.

“Get the lecture over with Commander” Levi requested

“As you wish Captain” Your eyes burnt shame through the table, not once could you look up.

“This explains a lot” he stated “Why you were at each other throats so much and also why you clicked so well in the field. Also why you both nearly got each other killed, not to mention contributing to the breakdown and deaths of that expedition” Your mood sky dived further heavy with shame, Levi casually leant back in his chair and his casualness grated on your quickly souring mood.

“Convince me to allow something that has already proved fatal” he asked not really expecting an answer. The bright glow of the candles now seemed dimmer around, darkness closing around suffocating the atmosphere.

“With all due respect Commander It’s not any of your business” Levi stated. Even Erwin couldn’t suppress his eyes widening at the response.

“That was the past and we both have to live with those consequences every god damn day, we’re adults now and so what if we like to fuck to find some solace in this shit storm of a world then so be it”

Blood rushed to your cheeks at Levi’s bluntness, you could be pretty blunt but when it came to your superiors you was a model subordinate.

“Well Levi” Erwin cleared his throat “That wasn’t a response I was expecting” He looked uncomfortable and coughed and readjusted himself in his chair.

“This is the reason I requested not to go on the mission Sir” You affirmed finally speaking up even though you’d rather be crawling under a rock or throwing a punch at Levi.

Levi’s knitted brows and glare now refocused onto you

“What? You’re not coming? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, those kids …” His tone had faded dark and hearing it spoken to you released the gates holding back the guilt you’d tried so hard to suppress. Guilt, anger and embarrassment was not a healthy concoction.

“Enough!” Erwin boomed immediately silencing the room. “Right, there’s a bigger picture at hand here, if we can lure another titan shifter to capture it will be an invaluable victory to humanity. Only Levi’s squad will be in the main firing line with Eren as bait. Y/N the others are all going to have trust in the survey corps and wait, they will be blind to the plan and well those kids will need a authority to figure to keep them from questioning too much and someone to help increase their survival chances dramatically and that needs to be you” Erwin visibly released a lot of tension as he exhaled and gathered some more thoughts and stood.

“No more is to be spoken of this, if you two can remain professional and private then I can see no problem. Y/N I appreciate your reasons for not wanting to be present on this mission, our past haunts us all from time to time but we have to overcome our fears otherwise we will remain behind the walls of our mind. Think about it” With a salute he left, leaving a silent screaming silence.

“What were you thinking being so blunt with him like that, do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me” You threw your chair back as you stood.

He replied with a forced chuckle and his gaze did not move from the floor. “I need some bloody tea” his lack of reply heated the already boiling anger, you glared at him with nothing but lava as he poured himself a cup of tea from the small desk pushed against the wall.

“For fucks sake Levi at least once acknowledge I have emotions we’re not all gifted with the emotional range of a teaspoon like you! And just maybe, just maybe consider that at times I need more from you than just a fuck”

He still said nothing,

Bastard

As soon as his lips touched the rim of his cup to take a sip you were done. You left him refusing to let him see your eyes flood themselves, every move you made was heavier. You made no attempt to sneak back to your room, your clothes were rushed off, your equipment was launched on the floor; you even ignited your lamp still with a frown across your face.

You slowly allowed the silence to consume you and steadily began slipping into a more peaceful state. A light knock at your door followed by a small creaking caused your eyes roll as you purposely rolled over facing away from him.

“Seriously Levi I’m in no mood” you warned

“Don’t be such a brat, move over!” he demanded, you responded with an exaggerated sigh but obeyed begrudgingly. Levi slipped under the duvet and pushed himself flush against you wrapping his top arm over you and resting it in between your chest. He even kissed the back of your neck triggering a single tear to fall and soak into the pillow beneath you.

“I’m sorry” he whispered.

“Sorry I didn’t quite catch that?” He gently kneed you, you felt his lips curve up against your skin.

“I seriously think you need to come on this mission, those kids will need you”

“I know” you breathed.

[jjbaconsumedmysoul]

Eeeelll ❤ I've seen you've launched fluff hcs and you know that I HAD to yeet in... so, can I request fluff Valentine's day hcs with, big surprise, Risotto? Thank you darling ❤

In all honesty, Risotto wasn’t really one to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate romance, that he didn’t love his s/o with all his heart, he just wasn’t one for special occasions. He was busy so much of the time, always on a mission, always scowling and stained with blood. It was when he returned to his homes with his beautiful partner that his face softened and his actions became gentle and loving. His ideal date night was a simple evening at home, curled up next to his lover, maybe watching a movie (though he would quickly fall asleep, safe in his s/o’s arms).

But he was determined to make today a success, to show the most important person in his life how much they meant to him. That morning, before he silently crawled out of bed, he kissed his love softly on the forehead. “I’m sorry to have to leave you so early, tesoro.” They mumbled in their sleep, rolling over and pulling his hand to their cheek. He smiled gently at their their fluttering eyelashes and pouting lips, giving them another sweet kiss before whispering. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you tonight. I’ll be the man you actually deserve…”

“Risotto,” his s/o finally sat up, slowly rubbing their eyes, before they yawned out reassurances. “You’re already so much more than I could ever ask for—” but he had already disappeared. It wasn’t unusual though…

His love sighed, repositioning themself under the covers. It was then that they noticed a small envelope laid on Risotto’s pillow, a sealed with a small heart shaped sticker and a kiss mark of black lipstick. They smiled to themselves and reached out to open it. Of course, it was written in his surprisingly elegant cursive hand:

“I’ll be back from headquarters by 7:00. Wait for me in that elegant silk dress, you know the one. You look beautiful in it. And you’ll look even more beautiful out of it tonight.”

His s/o blushed. Underneath his stern and commanding self, he’d always had a flirtatious side…

Of course they followed his instructions. By 6:45 they were dressed and done up in makeup and heels, nervously waiting for whatever event he had planned. To their surprise, he showed up on their doorstep fully dressed in a black blazer. He had removed his hat and unbuttoned his black dress shirt just enough to see the top of his pecs. He knew just how to tease his s/o…

He extended his arm with a sultry smile. “Are you ready, amore?”

He didn’t book anything too fancy; he had found a small Italian trattoria with a trustworthy owner through his mafia connections. It was out of the way in a narrow alley, but the atmosphere was romantic nonetheless. A flickering candle and a rose in a crystal vase sat in the center of an ornately carved table, and Risotto pulled out the chair for his s/o as they gazed around the small room, awestruck.

“Why are you so impressed? It’s nothing remarkable.” Risotto questioned as he sat down opposite them. They blushed, toying with the cloth napkin in their lap.

“It’s just unusual,” they smiled as they looked up at Risotto through their beautiful long eyelashes. “It’s not like you to make such a fuss over me,” Risotto leaned in and grabbed their hand over the table, pressing their fingers to his lips in a gentle kiss.

“But you like it, don’t you?”

They smiled again to themselves as Risotto threw them a playful wink. He then ushered over the waiter.

It was a quiet evening. The food tasted remarkable and the presentation was impeccable. Few other couples ventured into the small out-of-the-way restaurant, and they were alone for most of the time. Risotto had worried that too crowded a restaurant would make him tense and overly cautious; but it was just him, his s/o, and the waiter. So he was able to relax around them. He smiled and the adorable way they rambled on about an interesting topic of conversation, their cute little laugh when he said something sarcastic or cracked a joke that seemed surprisingly out of character for him. Eventually dessert came and the two smiled at each other as they took small bites of torte and gelato. There was something unique about the way he looked at his s/o. When he was satisfied with his work in La Squadra, he would narrow his eyes, furrow his eyebrows, the corner of his lip would turn upwards in a toothy smirk. But when he observed the love of his life having a wonderful night, laughing and enjoying the food, his eyes softened. A small lopsided smile spread across his face, his eyebrows raised in an expression of wonder as he leaned in, resting his head on his hand as he watched his s/o absentmindedly licking the melted gelato from the spoon. He suddenly laid his hand over theirs on the table, and their eyes darted back to him as they swallowed.

“Risotto?” His eyes had darkened.

“I’ll pay the check.” His s/o’s heart fluttered with that look, their thighs instinctively clenching together. It had been so special to go out like this, to take a single night to go out and do something new, but the Risotto that loved them and wanted him…. They would always love that Risotto, no matter how busy he was sometimes and how dangerous his job was.

As soon as he had slammed down a couple of euros on the table, he took their hand and quickly yet fervently kissed them before leading them out of the restaurant. As they sprinted through the darkened alleyways Risotto leaned down to whisper hoarsely in their ear:

“You have no idea how that outfit makes me feel,” his deep voice grew fierce. “How it’s men making me feel all night.” His love smiled through their blush, averting their gaze as they fluttered their eyelashes. They clung to his arm, holding his bicep to their scantily clad chest as they fiddled with his shirt and began to roll up his sleeve.

“Oh, I think I know how it makes you feel.” They jested playfully. They bit their lip as they eyed the growing bulge in his pants.

As soon as they reached the door of their apartment, he began fumbling with the keys to unlock the door. But his partner couldn’t wait, and playfully slipped their hand onto his firm ass, giving it a tight squeeze as they smirked. He snarled through his smile, suddenly replacing the keys in his pocket and embracing his s/o, who gasped as his broad arms encircled their waist and he leaned over them, their back arching as their heaving chest pressed against his own.

“You just can’t wait, can you?” His piercing eyes darted to their lips, their exposed chest. Suddenly, his hand tangled in their hair as he tugged their head to the side, giving him full access to mark this neck with kisses and bites.

The two of them stumbled through the doorway, Risotto now ravishingly their chest and groping st their ass while they began to unbutton his dress shirt. The door slammed behind them as Risotto pinned his s/o to the wall. Their fumbling fingers struggled to undo the last button, but finally they were able to rip open his shirt and place their hands onto his chiseled chest. He hummed as they ran their palms along his firm pecs, his own fingers straying to the zipper of their dress. His lips suddenly returned to their own as soon as he had started on the zipper. He bit their lip teasingly, not enough to draw blood but just enough to make them gasp as he smirked and slipped the tip of his tongue into the kiss. Despite their surprise, they grabbed at his collar, pulling him deeper into the kiss as they moaned in pleasure. While one hand continued to struggle with undoing their dress, the other grabbed their thigh, squeezing it almost hard enough to bruise and wrapping their leg around his waist as he begun grinding himself against their small body, in an attempt to satisfy the hardness between his legs. Of course he was a bit tall for them and his urges led him to suddenly pick up both their thighs and straddle them round his hips as he desperately ground into them. He held them close, still kissing them feverishly as he stumbled through the kitchen to their bedroom. Their fingers tangled in his hair and he let out a grunt, pushing the door to the bedroom open. As soon as he set (or rather threw) them down on the bed, he was finally able to rip off his shirt. His s/o sucked in a breath as they noticed how rapidly his chest heaved up and down, how tight the front of his pants strained. He quickly pulled their dress up and over their head as the reached out and began to undo his belt. But he pushed their hand away as he hastily unbuckled it himself and threw it to the side. He straddled them onto the bed, his firm grip pinning their wrists above their head as he buried his face in their chest and began kissing the soft skin until his lover moaned in pleasure. He quickly placed a kiss on their neck before leaning over to whisper hoarsely in their ear.

“Keep your hands there, I’ll take care of everything.”

They obeyed his as his nimble fingers unclamped their bra in a flash before pinching their nipples playfully. As his s/o’s back arched in a gasp, he gently slid his tongue down their sternum, goosebumps spreading across their flesh as his palms cupped their breasts. Slowly, he kissed and kneaded their chest as they resisted the urge to run their fingers along their scalp, to grip his shoulders and bury their nails into his flesh, to slide their palms across his rippling muscular back.

He teasingly flicked the tip of their nipple with his tongue, and they let out a whine as he smirked amusedly. Slowly, he dragged the flat of his tongue across their most sensitive area as they squirmed underneath him.

“Risotto—” their begging was stifled by their own gasp as he quickly kissed the tip.

“What do you say, amore?” His s/o shuddered as their chest rose up and down with their panting breaths.

“Please Risotto. Please,” without hesitation he took their breast into his mouth, sucking hungrily as his dexterous tongue slid around the edge of their nipple. In one hand he gripped their waist hard enough to leave a bruise, and the other he occupied with the breast he hadn’t latched onto with his mouth, cupping it in his palm and teasing the nipple. He hummed and moaned softly in his deep tones, the vibrations overwhelming their sensitive skin as they moaned in reply, however they tried to bite down on their lip, remembering how Risotto had teased them before for being a bit loud. But as soon as his fingers found their way to their clit, all barriers broke free and they moaned out his name in desperation. His left their chest and began to trail soft kisses down their stomach as as he groped their thighs. They looked down at his satisfied smirk, their chest heaving as he bit the elastic of their panties and began to drag it down their legs. When he’d fully removed the thin fabric, he forced them open, kneeling between their legs and hoisting them onto his shoulders. He kissed the insides of their thigh as he squeezed their ass, leaving hickeys and bite marks everywhere he could. Every once and a while his lips would stray just close enough to their entrance that they could feel the hot breath escape his mouth. They squirmed, their heart pounding in anticipation; they knew just how good he was at eating them out, and they knew that was what he was leading up towards. They just couldn’t stand the teasing.

Suddenly they tangled their fingers in his silver locks, tugging his mouth towards their core as they arched their back in anticipation of feeling his wet tongue work its magic on their clit. They were certain Risotto would come back with a quippy remark about how eager they were for him, but instead of teasing, he immediately buried his face between their thighs, slowly dragging the tip of his tongue up their center in slow strokes. They moaned out his name as he squeezed their hips, their ass, anything he could grab hold of as his tongue slowly swirled around their clit. His movements were always light and taunting, feather touches of his tongue and lips to the sensitives nerves, just enough to leave his s/o bucking their hips towards his mouth and tugging his hair even harder. He finally sucked at their clit, making them moan with satisfaction as his ministrations became more forceful. They could feel themselves becoming wetter by the second as Risotto lapped up their juices, staring up at them as if they were a god, a wonder. Those piercing red eyes showing such awe and devotion was almost enough to make them climax on their own. But slowly he began to pick up the pace and they felt that warm feeling growing in their core, the tensing of their muscles as their toes curled under and their fingers gripped Risotto’s hair, desperate for something to hold onto as their body became engulfed in sheer bliss. They let out a load moan as the pleasure came to a head, their body tingling and stomach clenching in the butterflies. And then, a swift release, the sound of their own ragged breaths as Risotto gently set their legs back on the bed, licking their cum from his lips as he looked down at them lovingly. They could barely keep their eyes on him.

“How’s that for a Valentine’s day gift?” He smirked as his s/o nodded, barely able to think of much less utter a single word to convey their satisfaction. They continued to pant as they tucked a strand of silver hair behind his ear. He placed his own hand on their cheek as he leaned in to whisper. “Oh, but amore, it’s not over just yet.”

[yoosungiib]

If I Would Ever Leave You - Chapter 3

If I Would Ever Leave You FAQ

This story contains violence, sexual content, sexual abuse, and strong language. If you are at all uncomfortable with any of these topics, DO NOT READ.

Contains spoilers to the Secret Endings 01 and 02

** THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT. Last chance if you are not comfortable with this type of content!

I wake up to the smell of bacon and pancakes. Instead of on the couch where I know I fell asleep last night, I’m in my warm bed, snuggled under the duvet with my head rested against a fluffy pillow. I turn to see Saeran not laying next to me, and then I hear the clattering of pans. Gingerly, I crawl up and swing my legs off the side of the bed. I groan at a slight pain; I pull my shirt up and look at my waist. There are blotches of red from where Yoosung dug his nails into me, but nothing too bad.

The smell of bacon and pancakes becomes increasingly stronger as I exit the bedroom and enter the small kitchen. I’m cold, so I wrap my arms around Saeran while he flips the pancakes, and rest my cheek against his upper back. I sigh, enjoying his warmth and squeezing him a little -- not too hard to make him uncomfortable.

“Go back to bed,” he says. “You need to rest. I will bring you your breakfast.”

I chuckle lightly. “You need to rest too.”

Saeran moves in my arms, leaning down to kiss my forehead then boop my nose. “Go to bed. I’ll rest with you.” I nod, kissing him quickly, then making my way back to bed. I jump in and under the covers, wrapping myself in the warm blanket. I wiggle my toes trying to bring back some warmth.

My phone buzzes, rattling against the wood of the nightstand, so I lazily reach across for it, slinging it towards me. I grumble at the bright flash, even though the room is not too dark. Everything is fuzzy, but the texts become clear all too soon.

1 text from Zen, 2 from Jumin… and 57 from Yoosung, plus the 29 missed calls. I’m surprised my phone isn’t dead or that the constant notifications didn’t wake me up or Saeran. Well, Saeran is a heavy sleeper, so I can see him sleeping through it.

The door is nudged open and Saeran walks in holding two stacks of pancakes. I giggle and his face turns red as he hands me a plate before sitting down next to me. With his free arm, he pulls me close to him. He puts his stash of pancakes on his night stand, then wraps that arm around me too. I notice how he bites the inside of his cheek, waiting, or wanting to say something. I kiss his cheek and muster, “Are you ok, Saeran?”

He nods but I’m not convinced. I take a bite of my pancake and ask one more time. This time, he responds. “I’m fine. I’m thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Are you ok?”

I laugh. “Of course I am.”

“I don’t believe you.” I frown, crooking my head to the side. I’m about to speak but he stops me, taking my small hand in his gradually larger and warmer one. “Tell me everything that happened yesterday now that you have calmed down. Don’t think that I will be mad at you for anything. I just want to know the whole story.”

Saeran deserves to know the whole story. All I told him was that there was a small disagreement between me and Yoosung last night. Of course, ‘small’ and ‘disagreement’ is such an understatement, but how could I tell him of what Yoosung did? The sweet, blonde boy who's always been my best friend, his friend too, cornered me and, in a sense, violated me. He hurt me, though not majorly, but enough to leave a mark. Saeran is smart, so of course he figured out that the small tears I shed were hiding something bigger, something much more drastic than a disagreement. Maybe by the way I told him I wanted to talk to Yoosung and tell him how uncomfortable he makes me revealed everything. How foolish of me to think I can just forget what happened last night. I can convince myself all I want that the events never happened, but of course, I could never properly forget. Saeran probably would have found out something more happened, anyways, by Zen, since he walked in on Yoosung up close and personal. How did I get into this mess. No, how did we, me, Yoosung, and Saeran, get into this mess.

“I…” I can hardly form the words, and it’s exasperating for me. “I’d rather not talk about,” I conclude. Saeran lets out a huff, falling back against the headboard. He’s annoyed, I can tell. He wants me to trust him and tell him everything, and I do trust him, of course, but how do you tell your boyfriend another man tried to kiss you. “Saeran, I just don’t-”

“Can I feed you?” he interupts. I blink a couple times, shrugging, and a little confused at what he’s getting at. I nod and pull my legs up so Saeran can move to sit in front of me. I squeak, but giggle when Saeran pulls me a little closer and wraps my legs around his waist. He grabs the stack of pancakes and starts cutting one into tiny pieces. He brings the first piece towards my lips and I slowly open my mouth. I wrap my lips around the fork and pull at the pancakes. I look him right in the eyes as I swallow the food. He snorts a little, picking up another piece. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’ll get yourself into trouble.”

He feeds me another bit as I quirk a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

Saeran chuckles, putting the fork down and taking a grasp of my chin. He dips my head back and leans over, a rather sadistic smirk crossing his face. The inner ‘Unknown’ that still hides within Saeran has come out to play. “You know what I mean.” I like my lips picking up stray bits of pancake and syrup, and Saeran slurs, “You see? You have me wanting you now~.” Getting onto his hands and knees on top of me, he pulls me flat on my back underneath him. My giggle turns into an audible moan as Saeran starts to kiss my neck, moving up to suckle and bite on the spot connecting to my jaw. I wrap my arms around his neck, delving my hands into his disheveled, red hair.

His kisses finally move to my lips, a rough and desperate kiss that when it’s over, we are both a little desperate for air. I stroke his cheek, and the tough facade cracks for a second; he can still get flustered to such affections. But a grin prawls back and I feel his hands playing with the ends of my night shirt. I have no bra or panties on, I remember.

He bends down so he can kiss up my stomach whilst pushing up the shirt. The kisses tickle slightly but moreover, it’s pleasuring. His tongue swirls around my belly button as he pushes the shirt over my breasts, tucked underneath my chin. His right hand moves to grope my breath, squishing and tugging at the flesh.. I let out an involuntary moan as I arch my back, desperately wanting to get more touches. He kisses up to my other breast, his pink lips wrapping around my pert nipple and sucking harshly. I grasp at his hair, tugging on it but trying not to hurt him. He takes notice and releases my nipple with a pop.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he says, his voice turning towards ‘Unknown’ once again. “Now, let's get rid of this for good.” He slings me up and pulls the shirt over my head. I laugh as I plop back down onto the bed, my breasts bouncing. Saeran frowns, mumbling, “You’re not suppose to find this funny. You’re supposed to be turned on.”

I smile, pulling him back towards me to kiss him. Our tongues dance together in a small movements, and our lips tugging desperately at each other. “I am turned on,” I muster against his lips. Thats enough to make him let out a deep growl. He is quick in pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor with me. I run my hands against his tone muscles, my fingers rubbing against the tattoo on his shoulder, the other hand cupping his neck.

Sooner than later, our pants have been shed and thrown to the ground, and our naked bodies are pressed and wrapped around each other. His hand moves up and down my back, stroking every bit of skin he can find, and I kiss any parts of him I can find.

When his tongue caresses the hidden area between my thighs, I’m a moaning mess as my head hits the backboard. His tongue moves inside of me, bringing me close to the brink but he commands that I do not cum yet. I squirm as his fingers rub at my clit, only stimulating me more and making it harder to not break apart right then and there. When he’s done with teasing me, he moves back up my body and looks me in the eyes as he places himself at my heat, slowly pushing inside of me and stretching me wide.

I groan as he hits a spot deep inside of me. He stays still for a moment, letting the both of us adjust to each other, before finally moving. I keep my arms wrapped around his neck while his hands are splayed to the side of my head. My eyes roll back into my head as I finally reach my climax. I roll my head back up.

I see his mint eyes gazing down at me, lovingly. I see stars, spirling around as I spiral through my climax. I see… a shadow. I shadow of man on the ground. A man that isn’t Saeran because Saeran in on top of me, inside of me. I look up towards the window and a figure dunks down, all I see is a flash of blue, a light blue coat, yet he’s too quick for me to catch any details.

I let out a high pitch scream, pushing Saeran off and out of me while grabbing the blankets around us to cover the both of us. Saeran panics, trying to get a hold of me as I freak out. Anything I say is incoherent as I cry, pointing towards the window.

“(f/n)! Hey, hey, calm down, calm down! Stop it!” He shouts, shaking me in the while.

“S-someone was watching us! I saw through the window!”

Saeran grabs his dressing gown and rushes towards the window, opening it and expecting the outside. He turns back to me, his brows knit together in frustration. “There is nothing there. And besides, we are on the fourth floor of the building. How the hell would anyone get up here?”

I wipe at my eyes and cuddle myself with my head buried between my knees. “I know what I saw,” I mumble. I saw a shadow. I hear Saeran sigh and then the bed dip beside me. A warm arm is wrapped around my shoulder and I look up to see Saeran. There is something in his eyes this time, not the lovingness I saw earlier. I can see deep worry as yellow flakes against the mint. I have a vague idea what he’s thinking. There is probably on one person, at the moment, crazy enough or able to find an excuse for watching us through the window.

A shadow through the window in a light blue coat.

~~~

A coffee please? ;) ~ Support Me Here Reblogs and comments appreciated!! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ Headcanon requests still closed~

[averyconradwilde]

Introduction

Hi, I'm grateful that I found other de-transitioning and re-identifying womyn on here. I'm 48 years old and I medically transitioned FTM 26 years ago. I started T in 1992, underwent mastectomy in 1994 and hysterectomy in 2003. I was considered ‘very passable’ by social standards. I served as an FTM support group facilitator and transgender youth advocate, and I worked as a cultural competency trainer for human services organizations wishing to better serve transgender clients. At no time during the early years was I aware of any doubt/regret/grief or did I ever have any reason to think I was misdiagnosed. In fact, during my ‘honeymoon period’ of the first 10 years, I was blissfully happy. (Anyone who wants to proclaim that I was ‘never truly trans’ is out of their fucking mind).

However as time went on, if pressed, I could admit that there were some things about my transition I was deeply disenfranchised about. My mastectomy surgery was complicated by a post-surgical infection that resulted in a failed nipple graft; this resulted in full loss of sensation and additional scarring on one side that I had not expected and I experienced extreme shame about this. My boyish chest and my plans for shirt-free living had not materialized to my satisfaction.

I also identified as a gay male and I experienced a level of sexual rejection from gay men (which I had frankly never experienced from straight men when previously living  as a woman). I let this eat away at me and really undermine my sense of self. I began to feel extremely inferior and inadequate about not having a penis and extremely shameful and loathsome about having female anatomy. I eventually did find love and settle down. However, for the first 10 years of my relationship, I was convinced that at any moment my partner would leave me for a ‘real man’.

I began to experience a growing sense of despondency regarding the fact that my transition had come to a plateau and there were still no truly viable options for phalloplasty. My previous experiences with surgery made me very doubtful that the scar tissue, possibility for necrosis, loss of sensation, etc. were risks I would ever be willing to take. 

Regular check ups revealed that I had an ovarian tumor and needed a hysterectomy. After this surgery, I experienced another post-surgical infection and had to be re-admitted for IV antibiotics. About 5 years after that surgery, I began to  experience painful sex and frequent UTI- which doctors diagnosed as atrophic vaginitis attributed to estrogen deficiency and longterm use of testosterone. I began treating it with a topical estrogen and a prophylactic antibiotic regimen. The antibiotics gave me yeast infections. Now I was in a position to require life-long medical intervention to treat the side effects of life-long medical intervention. The irony was not lost on me. 

The good news is that my intimate partnership persisted and eventually I was able to finally experience being present in my own body during sex without the mental gymnastics of having to fantasize about having a penis. What I experienced was a genderlessness/formlessness/freedom that I could only describe as spiritual. This happened very gradually through no effort on my part to change my orientation or identity. And this experience was not at all rooted in ‘internalized transphobia’; which is an explanation that some folks would offer to debunk the validity of de-transition as an act of liberation.

However, this experience of freedom from dysphoria and being at home in my body also came with a high degree of cognitive dissonance. I felt slightly guilty; like I was somehow betraying my queerness by no longer mentally exercising a strictly bob-on-boy masculine identity. And it was challenging to my self concept to learn that the very thing that made me want to be male in the first place (fantasizing/feeling a phantom penis) was something that now was not only unnecessary, but was actively causing my own suffering. 

I began to desire wholeness and being at-home in my body without despising my anatomy and without wishing for other anatomy. I finally realized that I was grieving my natural, non-medicated pre-transition experience.  Even though I could not remember a time when I hadn’t wanted to be male, I now knew it was possible to love myself as a female bodied person and I began to wonder how my life would have been different without the need to filter every moment through the lens of wanting desperately to be male. 

Furthermore, I came to despise the masculine role I'd taken on. I realized that I no longer had the close bonds with women I’d enjoyed before and that I was grieving this level of intimacy. And I could finally really see evidence of white male privilege in my own life and I became saddened and appalled at my failure to be an ally to women and people of color. During times when I tried to speak up on behalf of challenging sexism and gender stereotypes, I felt that my words were misinterpreted as ‘mansplaining’ and that my passing as male so successfully meant that I was forever an outsider to the people who I shared such a fundamental experience with. I started to hate my own paralysis and complicity in the toxic masculinity and racism which mainstream culture is so clearly seeped in.

In therapy, I eventually came to the conclusion that I transitioned too young (age 22), under the wrong circumstances (abusing street drugs) and for the wrong reasons (self-loathing rooted in misogyny and untreated trauma at having been a rape and abuse survivor). This gave me a new lens with which to think critically about my choices and the desire to heal these parts of myself that I abandoned by unconsciously seeking to obliterate them through transition.

For the last 3 years I've been exploring social de-transition through wearing what would typically be considered ‘feminine' and/or ‘androgynous’ clothing, using gender neutral name and pronouns, and reclaiming my body. I am actually enjoying my own femaleness and I no longer obsess on any rare instances of gender dysphoria. I've removed 90% of my facial hair and 60% of my body hair through laser treatments. I'm taking a modest dose of estrogen, Gabapentin, and a low dose of T to cope with debilitating hot flashes.

I am now so permanently masculinized that I am usually perceived as MTF- although I sometimes pass a female if I’ve had a very close shave and I am dressed very stereotypically ‘female”, and if I use my voice very quietly.

My instinct is telling me to proceed with legal de-transition because now that I'm learning to appreciate my body, I'm finally feeling more pride and alignment with being female and desiring to have my public identity synchronized with these experiences. 

However, if I am to be completely honest about it, my tendency is to sometimes fixate on restoring myself physically (as well as possible) to my original pre-transition condition when no amount of new medical interventions are ever going to undo what has happened; let alone fully heal everything I’ve been through. The healing has to come from inside. 

Furthermore, my partner of 19 years (who I dearly love), is decidedly gay and although he tolerates my new androgynous look, he’s expressed a feeling of not being attracted to my more ‘feminine’ side. After building a life together, adopting and raising two young children together, I have a very hard time with the possibility of risking all that when maybe I could be content with a genderqueer or gender neutral identity. 

Anyway, I'm not looking for advice, just support and community.