#i love good tension between characters so much and blue lock gives me that in large does | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaghoeyama · 3 years

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three of cups.

featuring: eren jaeger, armin arlert, afab reader.

word count: 5.5k

summary: you, eren and armin have been best friends for ages. there’s always been an underlying tension between the three of you, until that tension finally snaps.

content warning: smut, college au, post-timeskip characters, alcohol consumption (characters are tipsy but not inebriated), threesome, mlm, mutual pining, voyeurism, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), slight edging, use of good boy/good girl, masturbation, cumplay

a/n: uhh so i was horny and this happened. pls be kind this is like my first fanfic ever (also english is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes feel free to let me know).

update: so apparently tumblr took out a whole ass paragraph after the “keep reading” and then repeated two different paragraphs twice?? i’ve seen people trying to fix this by adding asterisks so i’m doing the same. sorry about that lol.

18+ CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

So loud, you think.

You can almost feel the room vibrate with beat of the music, your steps naturally adapting to the rhythm as you make your way through a crowd of college students in various states of dishevelment. A smile comes to your lips. The whole place smells of alcohol and sweat and the floor is sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at the chaos; the year had been brutal for a lot of you and with finals finally behind you, no one was gonna miss the chance to loosen up and just have fun, yourself included. Which was exactly what brought you to make this little trip across the room, eyes fixed on your objective.

He’s leaning against the wall, his golden hair making it easier for you to spot him in the crowded room. His eyes are trained on his phone as he mindless scrolls down with his thumb, so you’re not too surprised when he doesn’t notice you straight away, even when you’re standing right in front of him.

You take a moment to take in his delicate features, his skin turned to porcelain by the bright light coming from his phone; the alcohol makes you bold enough to trail a hand up his arm and rest on his cheek, successfully shifting his attention to you. His face relaxes in a smile when he sees you, but his eyebrows are still raised in surprise at your sudden closeness; he opens his mouth to greet you but you’re quicker, “Armin, would you please let me kiss you?”, your gaze keeping him pinned against the wall.

“I- what?”

You relish in the way his breath catches in his throat, and you certainly don’t miss the flush that comes to his face or the way his eyes drop to your lips.

“It’s for a dare… please?” your answer comes so innocent to his ears and he tries not to think at how pretty your plea sounded, even prettier than he’d fantasized so many times now.

“I- I mean, yeah, sure” he stammers; you chuckle when close the distance between you, his pretty blue eyes still confused as you press your lips against his.

The kiss comes out of the blue for him, yet you don’t miss the way his hands instinctively grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him. You hum into the kiss, your body suddenly so warm as he moves his lips against yours; he’s so pliant, all you had to do was ask and now he’s all over you, his grip keeping you flush against his body. Your fingers slip between his golden locks and when you lightly tug at them his hold grows tighter, his lips parting with a low moan. You swear you hear him whimper as you slip your tongue past his lips, taking control of the kiss as you explore his mouth, warm and wet and oh his hands are gripping your ass now, and you moan into the kiss as you feel his erection poking at your hip.

“The dare said ‘kiss’ but if you two wanna get a room…” Sasha’s loud voice somehow reaches you from across the room and you pull back from the kiss, a string of spit connecting still connecting your mouths. He’s panting, mouth still parted, and you can’t help but stare at his pink lips, slightly puffed and still shiny from the kiss.

Without thinking you brush a thumb against his lower lip, “so pretty” you murmur.

Armin swallows around nothing, and when your eyes meet his pupils are all blown out, pleading, almost begging you to close the distance once again. Fuck he looks so flustered, heat pooling between your legs as you wonder how he’d look if you took his cock in your mouth, if you could make him so lost in pleasure that his smart little brain couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.

You feel his arm around your shoulders before you see him, his usual scent of soap and lemon shampoo now mixed with a hint of smoke. You rest your head against his shoulder, your body craving physical contact after the kiss you’d shared with the blond. “Hi ’ren” you murmur against his shirt, dazed eyes looking up at him and then shifting to Armin. Your kiss was enough to make his brain fuzzy but now, with Eren’s arm wrapped around him and his body so close, he felt completely overwhelmed.

Eren pressed a kiss over your hair and pulled you and Armin even closer. “You shouldn’t keep all the fun to yourselves, don’t you know that sharing is caring?” he whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear through the music.

You can’t believe that cheesy line sent a shiver through your body. You figure it’s because of Eren.

“Maybe we should make use of that tequila bottle in our dorm room, what do you say Armin?” he adds, the blond choking out a soft affirmation. You doubt your sober self would have done that, but you were tipsy enough not to care when you took both their hands, interlacing your fingers with their own, a teasing smile gracing your lips. “Then what are we waiting for?”

You feel strangely calm as you walk down the hallway. It’s definitely quieter than the party, and your attention is quickly drawn from one dorm room to another, where you catch glimpses of people smoking and drinking to the sound of at least ten different playlists.

Again, you smile. For the third year now you’re witnessing how your otherwise rigorous and law abiding campus turns into a huge frat party in the weekend after finals. You don’t know if it’s the warm weather or the fact most common spaces are surprisingly clean by monday that makes everyone look the other way, either way you’re thankful. You close your eyes for a moment as you walk, slightly overwhelmed by the music and the loud chatter and the drink you had at the party, your brain lost in a pleasant buzz.

A light squeeze to your hand brings you back to earth. Your head turns to your left, eyes slowly opening to meet a pair of blue ones.

“Are you okay?” Armin asks softly, the tiniest hint of concern slipping past his lips. You wait a beat before addressing his question, choosing to look at him instead. You note that his cheeks are almost as pink as his lips, and that his blue t-shirt makes his eyes sparkle; you ignore how your stomach flips when you realize he’d been holding your hand since you’d left the party.

“I’m great,” you say as you shift closer to him “I’m in a good mood actually.”

You catch Eren’s eyes leaving you as he turns his head forward and keeps walking in front of you. You let your gaze travel from his head – you loved that half bun he kept his hair in more than you should – to his broad shoulders, entranced by the way his black t-shirt stretches over his muscular back.

You must have missed the part where he stopped in front of the dorm room, because you end up bumping against that back.

“You’re completely out of it” Eren teases with a grin.

“No, I’m not” you retort, “as I said, I’m in a good mood.”

The look he gives you is playful. “You call it good mood, I call it being drunk.”

“I had literally just one drink, there’s no way anyone could get drunk from that.”

“Depends on how strong the drink is.”

“Will you shut up?”

You’re still bickering as you enter the room, Armin rolling his eyes at the two of you with a fond smile. Once Eren shuts the door though, you all fall quiet.

The only light came from the blue led Armin had put on his side of the room, casting a glow over your faces that was almost ethereal. There’s a weird tension, a nervous feeling gripping your stomach and making you tingle with anticipation. You’d been alone with them in that very room more times than you could count, cramming for tests, watching a movie or simply hanging out, but tonight something was different. You sit next to Armin on his bed, eyebrows knitting together as you quickly try to analyse that feeling.

The three of you had been friends for ages, since you all attended the same elementary school and lived down the same street. You had bonded with Armin first, his quiet and intelligent personality matching well with yours. You remember fondly the warm afternoons in his backyard, grass tickling your skin as he showed you his new ocean life books and you rambled about ancient Egypt, Greek myths or whatever you were fixating on at the moment.

Eren on the other hand – at first you couldn’t stand him. You only knew him as ‘Armin’s other friend’, but he was such a loud and hot headed kid, you’d always found his attitude too off-putting to even start a conversation, and you were pretty sure he didn’t like you either. After some pushing from Armin though, you’d actually tried to get to know each other; much to your surprise, you found out you had a lot of interests in common. Eventually, you’d even come to admire how passionate he got about the things he cared about, how strong his ideals were, and with time his impulsivity left room to a much more calculated approach.

After all these years, the three of you were still as thick as thieves; you’d become so comfortable around each other that people always assumed you were either dating one of them. You’d always brush it off with a laugh, but now you wonder if it’s normal for friends to behave like that around each other. It was the little things at first; lingering touches, wondering eyes, teasing comments. Then Eren’s hands all over you every time you wore a pretty dress, or Armin’s obvious erection that time you and Eren were messing around at the pool; even your friends had noticed how close you were – and never missed a chance to tease you about it.

This is stupid, you conclude. They’re your oldest and closest friends, you won’t allow your attraction to them – at least you’re admitting it’s there – to make things weird.

You move to get the tequila you know they keep hidden in the closet; maybe that will shake the awkwardness away. You take a long sip before handing the bottle to the blond, alcohol still burning in your throat as you lay on your back, head resting on his lap.

You feel him still beneath you; when you look at him, his flustered expression is clear despite the dim lit room – before you can catch yourself, you wonder if he’s still hard from before.

Eren looks at the both of you on Armin’s bed. You’ve closed your eyes and your head is lightly nodding along with some music coming from the hallway, the beat muffled by the closed door. He watches Armin, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he can almost hear the mental pep talk the blond gives himself before raising a hand to play with your hair. You hum at that, eyes slowly opening as you turn your head towards him.

“Eren, come closer” you say, stretching out an arm as if to reach him.

“And why would I do that” he answers with a playful smile on his lips.

You raise your eyebrow, smiling back to him. “If you insist on staying over there, I guess Armin and I are really gonna keep all the fun to ourselves, isn’t that right Armin.” You say lightly, rising from his lap to lay against his side, your body wrapping around his arm; his hand ends up between your closed thighs and somehow you manage not purr in his ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, both of you now facing Eren.

When Armin speaks, you don’t miss how his playful tone hides a hint of malice, eyes fixed on the brunette, “oh I’m sure he wouldn’t mind just watching if we were actually having fun.”

Eren laughs at that, his voice dropping lower.

“True” he admits calmly, as if the thought hadn’t brought him to several orgasms through the years, “but right now I think I’d rather join.”

And he does, sitting close to your other side.

You wish that type of exchange wasn’t as common as it was between the three of you. You also wish it didn’t send a wave of arousal trough your body every single time.

You watch him as he leans toward you to grab the bottle from Armin’s hand, taking a sip of the amber liquor. Your eyes follow a drop of alcohol at the corner of his mouth, unconsciously tightening your hold on the blond as Eren’s tongue comes out to bring the drop past his lips.

In that moment, Armin decides he’s had enough. He’s way too turned on to let all this teasing slide; if the three of you really are as attracted to each other as he thinks, this was the time he was gonna do something about it. So when he speaks, he does with a purpose.

“Is it weird that I’ve kissed both my best friends?” his question sounds so innocent, he even lets out a calculated chuckle to feign embarrassment.

Eren tilts his head toward him, throwing him a curious glance “You still remember that? Must have been one hell of a kiss huh” he smirks.

Armin knows he’s teasing, and that he clearly remembers too, but he can’t help the pink blush that colours his cheeks as his thoughts rush back to that night.

It happened first semester of junior year, after Sasha’s ‘small’ housewarming party had quickly turned into a full blown party. As the music got louder and more and more people filled the tiny flat, Jean, all tipsy and bright eyed, had gathered all of you in Sasha’s room to play spin the bottle – most of you had booed him, but you’d followed him anyway.

After watching you awkwardly peck Connie on the lips and Mikasa blush violently as Sasha took her face between her hands and gave her a loud smooch, it was his turn to play. He gave the bottle a spin and almost choked on his spit when it landed on Eren. He remembers everyone cheering as he tried to stop his face from flushing red, looking everywhere but at Eren; that’s how his eyes landed on you, quiet where your friends were loud, your eyes focused on him in a way that was almost daring.

He followed your gaze as it moved towards Eren, finally making eye contact with the boy. His attempts look composed failed miserably when Eren, a lazy smirk spreading on his lips, beckoned him with his hand to move closer.

“I- uh we don’t have to…” he choked out.

Eren’s smirk grew wider, “It’s just a game Armin, what are you scared of?”

Armin couldn’t tell if his tone was soft or mocking, either way he felt as he had something to prove now.

He stood on his knees and crawled on the floor as Eren mirrored him, ignoring the way his stomach flipped as they met in the middle of the circle, so close he could feel his breath over his lips.

“What’s taking so long?” Jean said from somewhere behind him, “it’s not like you haven’t done this before” he teased.

Armin wanted to turn back and state that no, they had not actually done that before – he’d probably sound way more disappointed than he should – but before he could even open his mouth he felt a hand on his cheek; his eyes flickered back to Eren’s green ones, only to find them trained on his lips as the brunette sealed the gap between them.

Eren’s lips felt so impossibly soft again his, he tasted like vodka and something sweet he couldn’t recognise and Armin couldn’t really thing about anything as he lost himself in the kiss. The hand on his cheek moved through his hair and Eren pulled slightly, just enough to make Armin gasp against his lips, taking the chance to slide his tongue against his lower lip and into his mouth. Armin broke the kiss at that, a whimper leaving his lips because he wanted, needed more, but the feelings building up inside him – and the arousal making his pants tighter – were sending him in a slight panic.

He barely registered his friends’ loud noises as he sat back on his spot, but he didn’t miss the way Eren winked at him and licked his lips, green eyes boring into his blue ones. Armin struggled to act like his normal self rather than some teenager who had just kissed his long time crush. He desperately tried to focus on something, anything but Eren and his stupid lips and stupid grin and stupidly pretty eyes right in front of him, and that’s how his eyes found you again.

You had watched the whole scene with an interest you hoped went unnoticed by your friends. You sure hoped Mikasa, sat right next to you, had missed the way your breath hitched in your throat as you watched the blond gasp under Eren’s grip, heat coursing through your body and pooling between your legs. When Armin’s blue eyes found you, flustered, with half lidded eyes and teeth sunk in your bottom lip, you’d lowered your head in shame.

Eren rests his head again the wall and closes his eyes, as to enhance the memory.

It had been over a year ago, yet he remembered Armin’s sweet lips against his, the small noises he unconsciously let out going straight to his groin.

He remembered your face, eyes glossy with desire as you watched them part, flustered almost as much as Armin, as if you’d been the one kissing him instead, and oh had he wanted to kiss you. Had it been just the three of you in that room, he would have grabbed your face and bruised those pretty lips, forcing Armin’s sweet taste in your mouth.

He’d long given up the guilt that came with fantasising about his closest friends, any uncomfortable feeling quickly replaced by pleasure every time he wrapped his hand around his cock. At first it was just one of you under him, on top of him; soon enough he’d started picturing both of you on your knees, eyes bright and pleading, pink tongue hanging out of your mouths as you wait for him to paint your pretty faces with his cum.

“So who’s the best kisser?” you ask, your warm breath against Armin’s ear making him shiver.

“I can’t- You both… I’m not gonna answer that.” Armin manages to sound flustered when he answers.

Eren looks at him. “I would” he states nonchalantly, “but I don’t have all the materials to make my choice.” His tone drops to a low murmur, green eyes slowly shifting to you.

Armin tries to hold back a smile, both of you reacting exactly as he anticipated.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, it’s beat so loud you’re sure both of the boys can hear it; when you speak, you desperately try to keep your voice steady.

“Then god forbid you make an uniformed decision.”

Eren is straight up grinning at this point; he grabs your wrists and tugs you closer, pulling you on his lap. You balance yourself on his shoulders as his hands graze your bare thighs up and down, your skirt bunching up to your hips and barely covering your panties.

When your eyes meet, you’re shocked at how softly he’s looking at you. “I’ve been waiting a while for this” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, and you swear you can feel him stroking your cheek before burying his hands your hair and drawing you closer. He’s so warm all pressed up against you, so sweet when his lips ghost against yours before finally kissing you.

You’re slow to respond at first, too lost in how right it feels to have him so close and all over you, but you’re quick to part your lips for him, his tongue sliding against yours; he tastes of alcohol and you get drunk on it, a small moan leaving your throat and getting lost in the kiss. You whimper as you feel him groping your ass and push you even closer. He’s kissing you like a man starved, devouring you, the intensity making you feel light headed. You break apart from the kiss with a sigh, head falling on his shoulder, barely registering what you’re doing as you lightly grind against his hardening cock.

Eren groans as he tugs your hair so that you can look at him, his dark pupils swallowing up almost any trace of green.

“So needy… how many times have you thought about this?” he asks, a teasing smile on his lips as his fingers play with the hem of your skirt.

You look away from him, cheeks heating up; you don’t want to admit how many times you’ve cummed on your fingers with their names on your lips, but you don’t think you have a choice.

His head dips lower to press an open mouth kiss to the column of your throat, “Answer baby, there’s no need to be shy; we’re all friends here.”

You suck in your breath, voice embarrassingly shaky “so- so many times, w- with both of you” you confess.

Armin groans at your words, a curse slipping past his lips. “We- we could have done this so long ago” he mumbles, eyes fixed on you as he palms himself through his jeans. You feel so hot under his gaze, so wanted, you never want his eyes to leave your body.

Eren steals your attention by sucking a purple mark at the base of your neck; you bite back a moan as he licks at the bruise, heat pooling in your panties. he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“This won’t do” he says softly against the shell of your ear “how can Armin hear all your pretty noises if you hold them back?”

Before you can choke out an apology, his lips go back on your neck, finding that sweet spot below your ear that makes you whimper. You’re trembling as he sucks another bruise on your skin and this time you don’t hold back, soft moans leaving your lips as your hands grips his hair, tugging it loose and fawning all over his shoulders.

Eren pulls back, admiring his work as you try to steady your breath.

“Good girl” he murmurs, “let us hear you.”

You shudder at his words. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, and he’s barely put his mouth on you. You can feel wet slick gathering in your panties and you shift to straddle one of his thighs, grinding hard to relieve the tension as your head falls back, a loud moan leaving your lips.

Two strings of low curses reach your ears, and you barely register Armin slipping a hand under his pants as Eren pulls you down on him again, the knee you have trapped between his legs pressing against his hard cock.

“Fuck, baby you wanna cum like that? Riding my thigh?” he pants, slightly bouncing his leg up to meet your movements, successfully drawing another moan out of your lips.

He brings a hand your face, almost reverent as his thumb grazes your lower lip, just like you’d done with Armin barely an hour ago. Your tongue darts out and licks the tip of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it, sucking slightly as you nod, eager.

Eren parts his lips, eyes glued to your mouth. He can’t believe he finally has you – both of you – as he wants you, as he’s pictured so many times; he wonders if he’ll come undone in his pants like a teenager, as you add pressure on his throbbing cock with each grind of your hips. He slips his finger from your warm lips, rushing his hands under your skirt to take off your panties.

When you finally readjust yourself on his thick thigh, you almost sob at the feeling of your bare, sensitive cunt against the rough material of his pants. Before you can resume your movements, he lifts up the piece of fabric, dangling it in front of your face.

“Look at this” he murmurs, “completely soaked” his voice trailing off as an idea suddenly forms in his mind.

He turns to Armin, and fuck, he feels his cock twitch at the sight. The blond is laying against the headboard, legs spread apart; he has a hand wrapped tight at the base of his hard, leaking cock, his pretty face all scrunched up in pleasure.

Armin’s cheeks heat up when he notices Eren’s eyes on him, but it doesn’t stop him from slowly stroking his cock, trying to delay his orgasm as much as possible.

“’Min, you think you could use these?” Eren asks, dark eyes dropping between the blond’s legs. Armin’s eyes widen at the request, his brain shutting down for a moment as he looks at the drenched panties in his hand.

“What? I- I-…” he looks at you, dazed, half lidded eyes boring into his blue ones as you rub slowly on eren’s thigh. “Y- yes please” he chokes out, shame reddening the tip of his ears.

“So polite… what a good boy” Eren purrs, his deep voice making Armin twitch in his own hand.

He takes the panties, the beads of your arousal thick on the side your cunt was, and he wraps the fabric around his cock. You watch with wide eyes, struggling to believe that sweet innocent Armin would ever give you such a lewd sight; you’re itching to lean over and kiss, lick, bite every inch of his body, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you in place.

Armin moans loudly as your slick smears all over his shaft. He keeps rubbing at himself with your panties trapped between his hand and his cock and how the fuck is this already topping every sexual experience I’ve ever had he manages to think. His eyes trail up and down your body, Eren’s body, and he doesn’t even notice how much his strokes speed up, hips bucking desperately into his own hand.

“Slow down baby or you’ll miss all the fun” Eren’s voice is as soft as the hand he puts on his leg to appease him. “If you behave, y/n will let you cum on her, right?” he says, sneaking a hand between your legs and sliding two fingers between your dripping folds.

“Ah- ye- yes Armin, wherever you want” you squeak, arching your back as Eren slips his fingers inside you. You feel inebriated as he slowly starts pumping, his fingertips massaging your walls, so slowly you want to cry. You wail when his fingers curl over your sweet spot, a hand gripping your waist to stop you from fucking yourself against his hand.

“Please ‘Ren, oh god, please, faster” you sob, high pitched moans slipping past your lips before you even realise it.

Instead of listening to you, Eren pulls his fingers out and slides them up to your clit, collecting your slick; you whimper when he retracts his hand from your cunt, pressing down on his thigh once again to get more friction. When your clit brushes against a wrinkle in his pants your eyes roll inside your head, orgasm so close you can taste it, but apparently Eren has other plans.

“Not yet baby, hold it for a bit longer, will you?” he purrs close to your ear, his mouth peppering wet kisses on your neck.

“Please a-ah Eren I c-can’t-” your words come out as broken sobs but you’ve long stopped caring, your brain filled with nothing but pleasure.

When Eren looks at your face you look absolutely wrecked, sweat shining on your forehead and cheeks red from the strain, chest heaving as quick pants come out of your parted lips. “

Armin, come here.” He says, hungry eyes still locked on yours. The blond obeys and shuffles closer to the two of you, your panties forgotten on the bed.

“You’ve been so good I think you deserve a reward” he says, as he pushes the glistening fingers he’d just pulled out of your cunt straight into Armin’s pretty mouth.

The blond moans at your taste, both hands coming to grab Eren’s wrist and push his fingers further in his mouth, choking slightly when they hit the back of his throat. Eren watches him in a trance, mesmerised by his blown eyes and the drop of spit that dribbles from the corner of his mouth. He wants to fucking ruin him. But not yet.

He takes his hand from the blond’s grasp – the whimper that leaves his mouth almost makes him cum on the spot. Eren lifts you from his lap, ignoring your pout as he places you right beside Armin.

“Sit still for me” he says as he slowly palms his cock before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down with his boxers. You hear Armin suck in his breath as Eren’s hard cock slaps against his stomach, your own eyes widening at the sight; in length he almost matches the blonde, but the girth is just… fuck. Even dwarfed by his huge hand it’s almost intimidating, a thick vein reaching his pink leaking tip.

Eren takes his time as he pumps himself, eyes fixed on both of you; he drinks in your pretty, desperate faces, hands clutching the bedsheets as you try not to squirm under his gaze.

“Where do you wanna cum ’Min?” Eren’s question snaps him off a stupor, eyes leaving his groin to settle on your face.

You’re surprised Armin can blush more than he already is as he stutters that he wants to cum on you tits. You smirk as you quickly take off your top and unhook your bra, lust clouding you senses as you lay on the bed, head towards Eren as you motion Armin to straddle your waist. His eyes flicker to Eren and you miss the brunette’s nod before Armin comes on top of you, knees straddling your thighs.

Armin can’t believe just how fucking pretty you look under him, naked except for that cute pleated skirt you’re somehow still wearing. His hand trails up your stomach to squeeze your tits, fingers playing with your nipples as he pumps himself faster.

You feel Eren’s hand cradle your face, “touch yourself” he says, and you do just that.

With your skirt bunched up at your waist and your fingers quickly circling your clit, Armin doesn’t stand a chance; he leans forward, a hand planted on the bed as he cums on your tits with loud moan and your name on his lips, warm liquid painting your heaving chest.

You watch the blond leaning back against the headboard, desperately trying to catch his breath; you lock eyes with him, toungue wetting your lips as you bring a hand up to play with the mess he made on you, getting high on the look of pure defeat on his face as you take your cum coated fingers back to your clit.

“Oh fuck” Eren can’t believe how wrecked his own voice sounds “who would have thought you two would be such dirty sluts” he pants, his hand sliding faster and faster against his cock.

You moan at his words “’Ren p-please can- can I-”

“Cum.” He orders, and you obey right away.

The sounds that leave your lips are nothing short of pornographic, your body shaking and twitching in pleasure, mouth agape and head thrown back as white lights explode behind your eyelids, any coherent thought wiped out of your brain. Eren chokes out a curse at the sight, soft, high pitched groans echoing in the room until he finally cums with a broken moan, the liquid coating his hand and making a mess on his clothes.

It takes a while before any of you even attempts to move; silence falls in the room once again, except for your labored pants mixed with the music still playing in the hallway.

Eren is the first to get up and head for the bathroom. By the time you’ve all taken a shower and settled back on Armin’s bed, no one has still said a word. You feel anxiety settle low in your stomach, its grip speeding up your heartbeats.

Did you ruin everything? Is this the end of your friendship?

“So who’s the best kisser?”

Armin’s voice comes out tired and rough, but it puts a halt to the doubts swirling in your mind.

The breathy chuckle leaving Eren’s mouth sends a wave of relief through your body; “I’m sorry ’Min but y/n is definitely winning this one.” You smile as you feel his hand ghosting over your spine.

“Yeah, figured.”

The blond curls up against you and you’re still smiling.

The bed is way too small for the three of you and the night breeze coming from the window does little to cool you down, but you’ve never been better, a warm feeling spreading from where your bodies connect with each other.

As slumber takes you, you hope they’re still gonna be there when you wake up.

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yabai-korra · 3 years

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The reasons why we're getting Manorian book

There has been a lot of speculation whether SJM is going to favor us with book/novella about Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard, recently I saw some fans doubting it, so here's a list of logical reasons why it's happening.

1. It's SJM

This woman writes two 500+ pages books per year, for her it would be a piece of cake.

2. There have already been books focused on side characters

a) Chaol and Yrene - Chaol was one of the most unpopular characters before Tower of Dawn (which made me love him hehe) and she still wrote a 600+ pages long book about him, just imagine what she'd do with the most popular character (Manon) and one of the most popular ones (Dorian).

b) Nesta and Cassian - this is ship is the closest to Manorian equivalent in ACOTAR series, aka starting from a physical relationship that develops into a sentimental one. Also 6th ACOTAR book will be focused on a new characters (most probably Elain)

3. Favoritism

SJM has talked multiple times about her love for these two. When asked about her favorite TOG character, she said Aelin, but Manon was a close second place and she said that she absolutely loves writing her.

In another interview, when asked who she would go on a book tour with and a few similar questions, she answered Dorian.

Now, I haven't seen all of her interviews ever and I'm not sure how much she loves Nessian and Cahorene (seems to love Nessian a hella lot tho), but it's definite that Manorian are some of her favorite characters and it's just logical that she would write about them.

4. Unfinished story/Unresolved feelings

Ships at the end of TOG:

Rowaelin - married

Elorcan - engaged

Lysaedion - engaged

Chaorene - married with a baby on the way

Nestaq - engaged

Manorian - hug and "we'll see"

All the ships basically got engaged in the last chapter (it's not like I didn't like it hehe) and their stories, romantic-wise, were pretty much finished and they have no unresolved tension between them. Manorian on the other hand, have enough of it for all the ships lol.

KOA spoilers ahead!

Keep in mind, Manorian relationship was mostly a sexual one, and they don't quite yet have a way of communicating their feelings properly. So there is a lot of unaddressed between them, even though they obviously care a lot about each other.

The unresolved things between Manon and Dorian:

"“And if I asked you to stay?” / “I’d need a very convincing reason, I suppose.” / “Because I don’t want you to go.” - they just fucked and Dorian left for Morath later, which impacted Manon a lot but they haven't discussed it

"I even care about you." - Manon got up and left

"There is only one witch who will be my queen." - Manon doesn't know about this

Manon saved Dorian from Valg demon even when Aelin couldn't. It was the worst thing to happen to Dorian and he still bears scars from it, yet he didn't have an appropriate situation to thank Manon for it

Dorian knows that Erawan lusted after Manon, which got him pissed of course, and he didn't have a chance nor time to ask Manon about it. It might be nothing, but if I were Dorain and my girlfriend who doesn't show feelings was locked up with a crazy guy who has a thing for her, and have seen the way he treats women, I'd be concerned. Erawan was a Valg king, a tough opponent even for Manon. If he had done something to her, and he had plenty of means and opportunities and wish to do so, Manon would never openly tell anyone (maybe Asterin) about it, because it would imply opening up and being weak, which is Manon's worst fear. Again, SJM, as the Queen of Foreshadowing, wouldn't just randomly throw in the main villain having a thing for an important character, everything in her books always has a meaning and purpose.

"Would you miss me if I didn't [come back]?" - Manon didn't reply

This is how SJM described Manorian marriage: "She would be his wife, his queen. She was already his equal, his match, mirror in so many ways. And with their union, the world would know it." - and you're telling me it's not deserving of its own book? Not just that, Manon asked Dorian for marriage and they, again, just had sex, with Dorian loving the idea but deep down knowing that Manon would feel caged in a marriage. And that attitude won't just change out of the blue. It takes time and development which is something SJM writes amazingly.

With the Thirteen gone, beside Abraxos Dorian is the only creature Manon cares about.

Dorian's mortality (although as you'll see in point #6 I'm sure he's not human)

The dreaded "You could just marry each other." / "We'll see." (Thanks Yrene :)

5. Foreshadowing

Listen here, SJM IS THE QUEEN OF FORESHADOWING. She thought of a detail (Dorian's dad's name) in the first book that would matter in the last book. Of course, there are many many many more examples of that, but if we got "We'll see." then we'll fucking see it happen.

6. Unresolved things about Manon and Dorian as individual characters.

Manon and Dorian and both pretty broken at the end of KOA.

Manon lost the Thirteen, the only people she cared about. That is a huge trauma that needs to be addressed, especially with someone so reluctant to show feelings and heal like Manon.

Dorian can't be human?? He has fae abilities due to his relation to Gavin and Elena even though he's not even called a demi-fae. He possesses powers no one else does, phantom hands for example, which he didn't steal like shape-shifting. And Maeve pointed out that due to his father being possessed by Valg when Dorian was sired, it's possible he got some of the Valg abilities. (Also she said that he's stronger than Aelin) The main villain, especially written by Queen of Foreshadowing, wouldn't just let drop it there and that's it. Also not to mention Dorian's own struggle with depression and self-worth.

They have both just become rulers of their kingdoms, completely new to it. Dorian has spent a big part of KOA imagining what kind of a king he wants to be (one that will have a witch queen hehe) and it was a major point of his character. And addition to that affecting them as characters, the future of Adarlan and Witch Kingdom could make a good plotline.

7. Other TOG characters

Although pretty much all the readers would die to see Chaorene baby, Lorcan in Perranth, Aelin and Rowan ruling Terrasen, Lysandra and Adeion officially adopting Evangeline, Nesryn and Sartaq becoming Khagan and Empress of Antica, all of these don't make enough of a plot on its own. They are great side-plots.

We know all of these characters love each other and are happy together, there isn't that much to be added to their personal stories other than kids. (same way Feyre and Rhys got a baby in Nessian book) Manorian however, they haven't even kissed without it leading to sex, they hugged at the end of KOA and it was the pique of their relationship. Their relationship is merely at the beginning, whereas others have pretty much reached their ultimatum (ofc SJM can decide to add some drama with betrayal, kidnapping, pregnancy etc. but for now everyone is good and settled beside Manorian)

Not to mention the way other relationships would affect them. Chaol, Dorian's brother, and Yrene, Manon's wannabe bestie and Manorian shipper, would bring their baby to meet his/her uncle Dorian and aunt Manon, and imagine Manon with a baby lol.

SJM loves Aelin and other characters way too much not to give us an insight on them as married couples, but since her books are huge and it's her, it needs a plot with drama, addressing traumas, repressed feelings, worldbuilding, and sex, and Manorian's got all of that.

8. Abraxos

We need more Abraxos, that's just a fact.

Wow that was a long one. Anyways, in conclusion, we're getting that Manorian book. Pretty sure it's gonna a book rather than a novella (TOD was also planned as a novella but then guess what) because there is just SO MUCH possible content.

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild

(other parts) (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from [email protected]

I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #college au #bucky barnes imagine #au!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #alternate universe #alternate universe bucky #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #fools

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peanut-in-the-goal · 3 years

Text

characters belong to @lumosinlove

Logan and Finn had been together for years. Still, neither of them were happy. Not as happy as they used to be. Some nights it felt like old times, when everything was new and fresh, that honeymoon period of their relationship back at Harvard.

The soft smiles and quiet laughter. The way their hands brushed together when they walked. They went on car rides, one of their favorite pastimes from when they wore the crimson colors that they had grown to love. Finn remembers what it was like those days. He and Logan were young and immature, in for it for the fun, only serious about the game.

They had a good rhythm about it. Any drama or arguments they left off the ice. The ice was their home, it always had been since they were young, at different rinks, in different cities. It was familiar, smooth, something that was reliable to not change too much.

The lines on the ice were recognizable anywhere, marking their territory. There was something about the adrenaline that raced through them when they stood on the ice, that feeling of carrying the puck at your stick and gliding along the ice.

It was magical. Something that you couldn’t forget no matter how long it’s been.

But Harvard was a long time ago, years ago. Some days it felt like they were treading on thin ice around each other, doing everything they could so the other wouldn’t just leave.

The love was still there, but it was fraying between them, like a blanket that was being ripped apart at the seams. It ripped slowly but they were never complete without the other half. No matter how hard they wanted it, this relationship wouldn’t save itself, the two of them were willing to put in the work, but even that couldn’t save them. They were losing each other.

Everything was tense and stressful, Finn couldn’t take it. He loved Logan, he knew he always would, but he couldn’t do this anymore. They couldn’t play this game anymore, acting like everything was fine when it so clearly wasn’t. He couldn’t bear to watch Logan slip away without trying to pull him back in.

But he had tried that already, hadn’t he? He wasn’t willing to go along with this anymore and work and work and work to fix things when Logan didn’t seem to care.

He wanted out. So he was going to call it off. He couldn’t put himself through this anymore, waking up and seeing Logan curled up on the other side of the bed when he used to be so close.

He was so tired of saying things were alright when they so clearly weren’t. So as much as it pained him to say it, it was over. It hurt to love someone who made no show of loving him back.

That plan didn’t last very long.

Finn had been trying to find the right time to tell Logan, the days seemed to just drag on. Soon days were becoming weeks. He was starting to second guess himself, so either do it now or do it never.

He chose the former.

Finn decided to just tell him, choke down his nerves and tell Logan that this wasn’t working out. He swallowed, clearing his throat to get Logan’s attention.

“Logan, um. I—” He stammered, before inwardly groaning at being cut off. That might’ve been a good thing.

The door swung open, coach walked in with this tall blonde following behind him. Finn inwardly made a mental note to befriend this dude. Sirius walked forward immediately, shaking his hand. The two exchanged words, but Finn wasn’t listening, too busy looking him over.

Coach’s hand was resting on his shoulder protectively as the kid got his first look at his teammates. His eyes brightened up when they landed on Finn and Logan. Finn noticed his hand go to his left wrist, tugging at his sleeve there a little, pulling it further down to cover his wrists. The outline of a bracelet was visible through the cuffed sleeves.

Finn tried to gather his words and think of a more private place to talk to Logan but had to shake the thoughts from his head when Dumo steered the blue-eyed kid towards them. When had Dumo taken the coach's spot in showing the new rookie around?

He throws on a smile, extending his hand before he can even reach them.

“Mon fils,” Dumo smiles, clapping the kid—who Finn has realized is really fucking tall— on the shoulder. “This is Leo,” he pronounces proudly.

Leo’s shy at first, he shares a timid little smile where his dimples make an appearance. Finn thinks that it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

He catches the fond look that’s already gleaming in Logan’s eyes. Maybe, just maybe, things were knitting back together slowly.

Maybe Leo would help them in more ways than one.

—

Leo was around more in the weeks that passed. The weeks quickly turned into months, and the three were practically inseparable on and off the ice.

The rest of the team saw it too. Finn and Logan were obviously happier than they’ve been in a long time. Logan laughed more, his guarded eyes that they were used to seeing all the time were finally coming down. Finn smiled again, he hadn’t done that in such a long time. Sure, he smiled for the camera and the team, but something was always off about it, forced even.

Now it wasn’t. Now his smile was the way it was when he first joined. Free. He wasn’t worried about anything or anyone, it was just him, Logan, and the team.

But now it wasn’t just them. Now there was Leo. With his baby blue eyes that could light up anyone’s day just looking at him. The boy seemed so innocent from the moment they met him. He had looked around the locker room in awe like he couldn’t believe that he had actually made it here.

That one of the dreams he worked so hard to achieve was actually successful in the end.

Dumo had practically adopted Leo as he had with Cap. Like he would have with Logan had he lived with the Dumais’ and not Finn. Although Pascal has practically adopted everyone on the team as one of his own didn’t he?

There was still tension between Finn and Logan, especially when they lived alone in the same apartment. They had Leo over as much as they could, but he could only be there so long before going back to Dumo’s.

The peace couldn’t hold forever, something was bound to happen and one of them was bound to snap.

Leo just wished he wasn’t there to hear it.

On his way to their small apartment, he heard the yelling. It was loud, it was mean. It was hurtful.

Leo knew that Logan and Finn didn’t have the best relationship when he joined the team. That was easy to pick up immediately. He just never thought that he would be the reason for their misery.

When he heard the yelling he didn’t expect his voice to come out of their mouths, his name was spoken like it was acid on their tongues. He wasn’t even there, he didn’t do anything, so why was he the one who was being blamed.

The yelling didn’t silence when he turned the key in the lock. If anything Logan and Finn didn’t even spare him a glance, like he wasn’t even there. They probably didn’t even notice he was there to be honest.

It was like the fraying thread finally snapped.

Logan was red in the face, yellingand hurling insults that he’d regret a few hours from now. But at the moment he was too driven by rage and insecurity to protect, protect, protect. Anything hurtful thrown at him, he’d have to throw back something worse.

Finn’s face was blotchy, tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks. His hands waved around in front of him, trying to convey the words he was too choked up to say.

The room was full of nothing but harsh breathing for a moment, neither having anything to say to the other. Their eyes bored into each other across the room.

Leo let the door slam shut behind him.

Logan and Finn both startled, turning to stare at him standing in the entryway.

The fight seemed to drain out of both of them at once. Logan’s shoulders drooped and he turned to look away from both of them. Finn stubbornly rubbed the tears from his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“What the fuck?”

There was a beat of silence, no one said anything and Leo didn’t think he was going to receive a response. He was going to follow up on his question, asking what happened, why his name was getting thrown around and-

“I’m sorry…” Logan sounded small, like he was the one crying and not Finn.

Any questions Leo had were stored away for later.

“It was bound to happen.”

Suddenly Leo felt like he was intruding. They invited him over but he wasn't sure if he should be there, not when they were having a moment. Not when it looked like they may be finally healing.

“It’s not going to work out,” Finn continued. “This,” he gestures between the three of them, “isn’t going to work if me and you didnt work, Lo.”

Maybe not, Leo thought.

“I know.”

It was true, Leo knew. The two of them had had a rocky relationship since he joined the team.

But Leo thought he could make a difference, he thought he was enough to try and save their relationship.

He also loved them, he wanted this, he wanted to fight for them. He wanted them to stay.

But he also can’t be the only one who wants this to work, they all need to put in work for this relationship. He can’t be the only one pulling his weight.

Sometimes it’s better to save your breath. That’s what his father told him when he was younger and had just lost a friend dude to a silly argument. Some people are better to let go, they’ll hold you back and won’t make you happy. Always choose to be happy Leo, make the decision of fighting and giving up. Because giving up does not make you weak, some of the strongest people I know are the strongest because they gave up.

Leo really hoped he was right.

“I guess I should be going then.”

Finn and Logan nodded sadly, and Leo felt something in him break a little more. He turned and walked back out the door he came from.

Leo remembers crying on the way home. He hadn’t driven to their house, so the walk home felt like it took forever and no time at all.

#oknutzy #oknutzy angst #angst #peanut writes #sweater weather #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #IM BACK WITH MORE ANGST FOR YA

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pynkhues · 3 years

Note

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

#this was fun to put together #so many good fiicccss #truly a blessed fandom #beth x rio #beth boland #rio #nbc good girls #gg fic #fic recs #welcome to my ama

91 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can I request a minho smut where y/n and minho are boxing partners and theres that sort of tension at every practice you know? And the boys keep telling you he likes you but you dont listen and theres pining and then finally at that one practice he makes a move and that leads to ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). I love your writing so much and I think you're absolutely great🥺

ANON I love the way that your brain works I’m losing my MIND over this one. oh my gosh and I’ve been dying to write some minho so this has given me the best excuse!!! also thank you so much lovely! It makes me feel all fuzzy inside knowing that ya like my writing! and you’re great was well anon ;)

pinned | reader x minho |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: boxer!minho, boxer!reader, boxer au, pining!minho ahhhh, skz side characters, friends to lovers, growing feelings, minho is whipped for the reader, praising, sexual tension, oral (r & m receiving), marking, unprotected sex (stay safe loves!), soft shower sex

Word count: 4.2k

“Again! Minho, watch your footing, you’re tripping all over yourself.”

Seungmin threw a towel in the general direction of your sparring partner who nearly missed it flying at his head. Beads of sweat waterfalled down his forehead, and it got stuck in his scalp, turning his hair into strands.

“Getting tired?” You jested as Jeongin tightened up your gloves.

He smirked out a little, “Tired? I’m just getting started.”

“You’re losing your edge Lee Minho. I’ve knocked you down at least four times already.” Jeongin helped you by squirting water into your mouth. The cool drops felt heavenly falling down your neck.

“Distracted then?” Hyunjin whipped his disheveled blond hair into a hair tie. “Something on your mind?”

In one sweep, Minho ruffled up his own hair with the fabric of the towel “Distracted? No--”

“Listen Minho, I know that I’m not looking the most glamorous right now but you should get your head back in it, I’m barely breaking a sweat.” You shoved him a little with your gloved hand, handing out a teasing grin.

Your partner bounced a little in place, shaking out his limbs. “Alright...”

Any other day, it would have been Minho who had you stumbling down to the mat, breathless and muscles aching. It was always a mystery to you where he got his stamina from when he was in the ring with you. Outside of the ring, no one could have ever guessed that boxing was his pastime--the giveaway was his knuckles: they were nearly always bruised.

You had met Minho and the rest of your friends nearly a year ago when you joined the gym, just looking for something new to try. Seeing as you and Minho were nearly the same size, it made sense for the two of you to be partners. Even though he was quiet around you, he would always put up a fight. Beating him for once was exciting. When you were the one standing, it felt good, admittedly. The little rush to your head when his body hit the floor was too exciting to ignore. You could really get used to the way that he would stare back up at you, lip quivering just slightly and his abs seizing under his shirt. It was cute almost, you had thought, when you saw the way that his expression would soften underneath you.

Jeongin waved you over to strap your head gear back on with a tiny cringe. “As your friend, I’m gonna tell you that you stink...rather than not saying anything about it.”

Your gloved hand mimed a punch to his face. “Thanks for the info. I’m hitting the showers after this.”

The rest of your little group gathered near to the edge of the ring, towel drying themselves of their own sweat and shadow boxing the air around their fists.

“I’ve been watching from over there...damn Y/n…” Changbin sauntered up, throwing his jump rope over his shoulder. “You’re really improving.”

“I had a good teacher, handsome.” You clicked out a little salute to him.

“Ahhh, stop flattering me.”

“Let’s start.” Minho butted in while he popped in his mouth guard.

“Hands up!” Seungmin called.

The burning of your hamstrings had told you that you were nearing your limit for the day, but nothing felt better than chasing your victory over him once more. In his eyes, he held a darker kind of confidence this time: it clouded his eyes which narrowed. When he would focus, Minho seemed to inspect every single part of your body like he was planning exactly where he wanted to hit first. His eyes would dance around your frame for just a few seconds, then he would know your first move.

Want me to go easy on you this time? You jested under the plastic of your mouth guard.

His right fist hooked directly at you before you had registered it, colliding right with the foam of your headgear. He had hit you with such a force that it felt as if he had shook your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Hands!” Changbin growled from the sidelines, and you did as you were told.

In a couple ways, boxing was like dancing, except you were trying not to get all wrapped up in your partner’s arms. The goal was to prevent him from touching you, so your feet would bounce and skip around him in circles, never letting his steps dominate you. With every twist of your bodies, they would interact with the other, it was all give and take. Perhaps like dancing, the tension between you was tangible, but instead of harmony, there was a dissonance.

Minho swung at you to your right, and you bobbed your head in response. As you chased him back, the plastic blue under your feet would crinkle. Your hands never left the cover of your face only until the few milliseconds when you would make a swing of your own. Had he bopped a second too late, you would have given him proper payback for how hard he had punched at your face.

Seungmin barked out more combos for the two of you to battle in attempting first. It really was like the perfect dance: every time that one of you would swing, the other would float around it.

“Get a hit in! Quit playing with him!” Changbin chuckled from the sidelines.

“Minho! Come on!” Hyunjin spurred his friend on.

As he would, Minho’s curious eyes focused back down on you again, scattering around while he calculated out some kind of invisible equation as he inched you toward the edge of the ring.

“Slip! Slip!” Changbin grabbed onto the bouncing ropes of the ring and Minho hooked into your side.

You twirled your body out past him, letting his punches meet the side of the ring. Your motion had caught him off guard once you had escaped his attempt to pin you.

Now he was the one that was pinned.

In his excitement, Changbin bounced up and down, “JAB JAB!!”

Minho’s focus faded after you had squatted and carried out your swing to his side, and another to his arms covering his face.

“Your stance! Minho!” Seungmin gasped as Minho tripped himself to the ground.

The rest of the group leapt into the air, hollering into the echoey and concrete space.

Minho’s body hit the ground with a thud. His gloved hands became clumsy as he tried to brace himself, and his face was cleanly met with the blue mat.

Your victory was short lived once you saw the way that his eyes wrinkled upon his fall.

“You okay?”

“--Fine.” His words winced through his teeth. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeongin bunny hopped into the ring to undress the velcro of your gloves and headgear.

“Don’t lie to me Minho, you can’t lie about these kinds of things.”

“I said that I’m fine.”

Your free hands helped him to his feet. “Have Chan look you over ‘kay? I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to hit that hard...”

Minho shook out his wetted hair once he was free of his headgear. “Stop apologizing. I’m gonna head to the showers.”

Without another word, he slipped under the ropes, hunched a little as he tossed his tape away.

Hyunjin handed you your water which you took thankful gulps of. “Do you think that he’s mad at me?”

“No. It’s not your fault.”

“My fault?”

Hyunjin shrugged with a little smirk. “He’s doing it to himself.”

“Doing what??”

“Boxing knock all the logic out of you? Are you seeing okay?” Hyunjin waved his hand in front of your eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Ahhhh Y/n...silly little Y/n. How many times do I need to tell you?”

“No...this isn’t about that again is it?”

You guzzled down more water and were just a little tempted to flick some of it over on Hyunjin’s unrealistically gorgeous face. Anything but this again.

Changbin threw a white towel at you. “It’s honestly comical at this point.”

“Not you too.” You rolled your eyes.

“He’s literally fucking falling over himself for you and you still don’t see it.”

“I’m not seeing anything because there isn’t anything to see.”

“I can’t believe you.” Changbin and Hyunjin exchanged equally unimpressed eyerolls.

“You said it yourself ‘Bin, I’m getting better. All this practice and I can finally beat him. Why aren't you celebrating with me Mr. “I’m-The-Best-Boxing-Teacher-You-Will-Ever-Meet-Or-Know?” If, if he’s got a thing for me, why hasn’t he said anything?”

Changbin sighed out. “I don’t know, I don’t know how the hell he works. No one really does. He isn’t really the sharing type.”

“You ask him.” Hyunjin announced point blank. “If you’re so skeptical, ask him.”

An unwanted heat assaulted your cheeks. “I’m not--”

“--Oh my god, are you scared to ask? ~Mmm-how unlike you~” Hyunjin patted your head like you were a little dog. His eyes widened. “Are you saying that you feel--”

“--You know what! I’m going to hit the showers too. I’m a mess. Don’t hang around.”

“It never hurts to ask!” Hyunjin called after you, giggling a little in his own teasing way.

“There’s nothing to ask!”

(( ))

“Lock up when you’re done!” Chan’s voice rang through the empty hall of the gym, flicking off a couple lights behind him.

The green-white fluorescent lights above you buzzed with an insect-like ring and flickered every view seconds. Up high on the concrete walls, opened horizontal windows were cracked, letting in the humidity of the summer night, and carried in the sound of crickets singing their nighttime ode. The dark corners of the room seemed perilous compared to the single ring that was lit just for the two of you.

“Minho, I’m exhausted, how much longer do you plan on staying?” Your punch mitts fell to your sides.

“Just a little while longer. I’ve just felt...kinda out of it this week. I could use the extra practice.” His eyes shied, “I appreciate you staying after.”

“Let's just get this over with.” You raised your mitts in front of your face, holding your ground.

Minho huffed out a determined breath, then swung at them with all his might. The sound of the tight fabric patted through the room. His eyes didn’t meet yours for several minutes, his pure focus on each carry though of his arms sent little shock waves to your wrists. Time ticked past on the particularly loud clock nailed to the walls and caged in a little metal grid.

Rather than striking up a conversation like you would, Hyunjin’s voice taunted over and over in your mind like a curse.

“It never hurts to ask!”

Minho stepped back, catching his breath. “I think I’m good now.”

“Great!” You snapped your thoughts back to the moment. “I’m gonna wash off before I head out...you?”

“Probably. The water at my place as been fucking freezing lately, I swear that my landlord is a criminal.”

“Oh...sorry about that.”

“ ‘t’s fine. I’m talking with him tomorrow.”

“I’ll head in with you then…”

(( ))

Chan’s gym had a propensity for having facilities that were usually slightly off-- the automatic lights being one of them. If it wasn’t for more of the high-set windows, it would have been pitch black in the locker room, but the nearly full waxing moon filled the whole room with brilliant silver light. Among the metal of the lockers and the porcelain sinks, the room seemed to be bathed in a bluish tint.

“He’s really gotta get the lights fixed.” You said aloud, merely just trying to say anything to fill the quiet of the room.

“Add it to the list.” Minho breathed out a snicker. “That fourth sink hasn’t worked in weeks.”

“Really?”

The two of you had made some sort of unspoken rule being in the room together: backs turned, not daring to look at the other while you undressed, somehow it seemed like the respectful thing to do. The cold tiles met your bare feet, and your damp skin met the cool air. Suddenly the warmth of the shower sounded like the most enticing thing you could imagine.

Minho’s presence behind you intrigued you sneakily, thoughts pervaded your mind that you hadn’t expected.

Hyunjin had almost asked you if you had feelings for Minho. What would you have said?

You pulled your towel over your body, tucking it in place. “I...I wanted to apologize for the other day. I got too cocky. I shouldn’t have jabbed you that hard, and on your side. That wasn’t...fair of me.”

“I said before, drop it.”

You turned, and the sight of him nearly startled you. You had never totally imagined what he looked like under those white shirts that would cling to his sweating body, but it was nothing like this.

Minho’s back was magnificently sculpted and his shoulder blades curved and poked out from under his skin almost a bit like wings. The curve of his spine traced down his back in a perfect line, and it arched a little as he twisted his body around. Two little dimples peppered right above his waist. Close to his ribs, a little purple mark faded into the pale of his skin.

“I-is that…”

You advanced closer. In the blue light of the room, your eyes couldn’t make out what it was, but you suspicion twisted knots into your stomach.

Minho jumped a little seeing how close you had drawn to him after not hearing your silent footsteps.

“Is that...a bruise? Did I bruise you?”

Panic set in Minho’s eyes. “--No! No, that’s from a couple weeks or so ago, some stupid accident, I can’t really remember.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He nodded.

“Well...if you’re lying, I’ll--”

“--What, punch me again like that?”

Minho’s smiling eyes crinkled up slightly and you felt yourself met lightly into them: his smile was something that you knew you had always found to be adorable. Seeing him like this brought memories of him on the mat, flat on his back, those same eyes looking up at you in his awe.

“Haha. Funny. No, I won’t hit you.”

“Good. That did hurt though.”

“...sorry.”

Water dripped from a sink somewhere, and Miho’s hand lingered on his locker door.

“I haven’t hurt you before...have I?”

“You?” In your confusion, your brows scrunched together. “Not that I can remember I think. I know that it looks really dramatic when I fall but--”

“--I don’t want to hurt you either, you know right?”

“It’s just boxing, Minho, it’s not too serious, I know that you’re not like, out to get me or whatever.”

Under the silver-blue moonlight, Minho’s pale skin seemed illuminated. “Hmm.” He sighed.

When he faced you, you could see his pronounced collarbones and the way that his arms stretched out the muscles underneath. Never would you have imagined him to look this breathtaking. You chalked it up to being tired, but creeping little thoughts wove around your brain, whispering tantalizing ideas.

Silently, you wondered what he would feel like under the touch of your fingers. Every single curve of his body you wanted to trace, just to see where they would lead. You hadn’t noticed, but Minho had watched you as your eyes journeyed over him, just as his eyes had done countless times to you before.

You held his eyes tentatively with Hyunjin’s words on your tongue. “Minho, can I ask--”

Minho’s answer was hastily given to you in the form of him clambering his lips into yours while he drew you into his bare chest; he was much warmer than had imagined. There was something frighteningly intimate about the both of you meeting in a tangle of skin and lips; the heat of his chest and yours mixing. He had kissed you so suddenly that you seemed to stumble over your own lips deciding if you wanted to kiss him back. While he was needy, the way in which he ran his lips over yours was more caring than fleeting and impulsive. He knew exactly what he was doing as he gave into the magnetism drawing him into you.

Your partner’s hands cascaded down your back, drawing little squiggles down your spine, causing your legs to buckle slightly. He flooded your mouth with his kisses, each one more searing than the last, each one desperate to tell you what his words couldn’t. At last, you let your shocked body return to him, kissing him back. The moment that you did so, he shuddered into you, clawing lightly at your back. The tiniest “oh” from his lips moaned into your mouth and he shifted to tangle his hands up close to your scalp, drawing you even nearer to him.

He murmured onto you, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve had to hold myself back.”

It was the slick of his tongue running over your bottom lip that sent you spiraling for him. Just as you had wanted, you let your hands traverse all around his chest and his back, following the lines in his body as if they were a treasure trail to something that you could barely comprehend. Your touches on his skin turned his breaths into unsteady little whimpers that traipsed in between your mixing of lips and heated exhales.

“Mm-please...come with me?”

(( ))

Condensation had gathered heavily upon the deep green tiles of the shower wall while it too dissipated up into the air of the dimly lit bathroom. Swirls of the white wisps entangled around you and you breathed them heavily into your lungs. Under the warmth of the water, your body felt perfectly at ease: your aching muscles too revealed in the feeling that the heat brought, and Minho’s kneading hands worked at every knot in your body while he touched everywhere he could...as if he was starving for it. Handfuls of your skin filled up his greedy palms.

“You’re so beautiful. Everything about you...I’ve always wanted to tell you…” Minho kissed down your neck lapping at your nerves and disrupting the trailing of water down your body. “You-you make it so hard for me.”

“Hard to do what?”

“You’re irresistible.”

Minho’s words escaped from his lips like fresh honey while you were left to melt under them. After being so quiet around you, you felt yourself a fool to have ignored everything that was in front of you; and for being as stubborn as you were.

Further down your body, Minho let his hands fall down your own chest, ghosting his fingers over your nippes. The softest touches from his hands made your buds harden instantly, and your arousal pooled obviously within your sex. To steady yourself, you had thrown your arms over his shoulders and scratched at the combination of water and strings of muscles on his back.

“I-I should have listened, Minho...I’m-mm-so sorry.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” He broke for a moment to catch your gaze. “Can I show you? Can I show you how much you drive me absolutely crazy?”

Minho coupled his words with the scrape of his nails down your arms. Every touch that he gave you was needy and testing. You set yourself giddy a bit thinking of how he must have imagined this very moment countless times.

Your hot breath tickled the wet skin of his neck where you returned his kisses. “You can do whatever you want.”

With your permission, Minho’s body appeared to tighten. Where he had pinned you against the wall, his painfully hard member dripped out his eager pre-cum, and throbbed against your belly. Your mind ran free thinking of the ways that you would show him attention as well.

“Mm-tell me to stop and I will, okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

Minho let his kisses waterfall next to the flowing water down your skin farther and farther until he had hovered over your own sex which had grown painfully swollen waiting for his touch.

In the silver moonlight, Minho’s brown eyes glistened while he looked up at you, teasing you with his tongue, never granting you the full satisfaction. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile seeing how you reacted to his agonizingly slow lapping.

“~Y/n~” He sang, “You taste so good.”

“More…” You pathetically pleaded. “Stop-stop teasing me...Minho.”

He did as he was told, granting you more of his mouth, and sucking steadily and purposefully as you grinded into his mouth for even more. Minho reached behind you to grab out handfuls of your ass in his hands, lovingly kneading the skin at the same time. Water droplets had showered over his face, and strung together his eyelashes in a way that you could have sworn made them look as if they sparkled.

Before your orgasm hit, you demanded of him, “Come up here.” The way that his dick had twitched while he had sucked on you was becoming too hard for you to ignore.

With your finger tracing along his jaw, you kissed into his mouth, “My turn.”

The tiles were a bit hard on your knees, but after you had swung his beautifully thick thigh over your shoulder, nothing mattered as you had found your perfect angle.

You have him sloppy kisses all along his length and bit into his thighs, indulging in him, pulling at the skin where he was much more sensitive than you had expected. While it was contradictory, you gave him as many hickies as you could on the skin of his milky inner thighs. The purple love bites were gorgeous on his shaking legs.

“oh god.” He moaned out.

Your tongue teased him for a little while longer, then his hands told you what they wanted you to do. He had braided his fingers deep into your strands, and pulled your lips up to meet with his tip.

“God, I want you so bad, please, y/n.”

Just as how you had felt when he was at your mercy on the mat, he was all yours now: yours to take apart, yours to put back together.

“Needy baby.” You cooed into his leaking slit. “That bad?”

“Are you going to make me beg more?”

“Maybe I like it?” Your wrist jerked at him at last.

“Please give me your mouth, I can’t wait any longer.”

“Cute.”

Upon fully taking him in, Minho gasped out so sharply and loudly, it even surprised you. Never had someone been so needy for you, it was intoxicating. You took him in gradually deeper and deeper, pushing down your throat. All around you, the showering water coated you in an ocean of comfort; it trailed down your hair and fell down the sides of your face and your arms, no place was untouched.

Minho’s pruned fingers dug into your shoulders, “get up--fuck--”

At first, his fingers entered you, teasing your hole. Your stringy slick mixed with the water clinging to his fingers. The orgasm that he had once started within you pooled heavily and tightened at your core.

“Show me Minho, give it to me.”

He instructed you by picking you up into his arms, then pinned you against the tiled walls, back flat against the cool stone. His fingers dug into your ass, aligning you over his dick. It took all of your strength to wrap your arms and legs around him, but he held you back with ease.

“I-I’m not too heavy?”

“No. Not at all, you’re perfect for me. All of you.”

Together, you shivered at the feeling of connection once he had entered you, instinctually finding each other's lips between the water.

Minho’s thrusts started out slow and careful, planned almost. He was intentional in the way he reached as deep inside you as he could and listened to every response of your body.

“Mm...keep going,” you panted, “like that. ‘Feels so, so good.”

Time faded into non-existence this way with Minho dragging his hips in and out of you with a tantalizing speed. More than anything, it was the closeness that you felt taking him in so wholly, feeling every inch of his length. Each time that he grazed you deep, you sunk deeper into him, becoming weaker and weaker in his arms.

“I’m so close. Can I cum?” Minho’s brown glistening eyes pleaded to you.

You nodded eagerly, and it was if a switch had flipped inside him. All at once, he shoved your body harder into the wall, screwing you into it. His arms flexed where he held you, and his chest flushed red as he neared his release. When he did, his face was near euphoric as he milked himself completely into you, reaching one hand down to give your sex more attention, using his thumb to apply pressure.

When you reached your release, you could only helplessly convulse in his arms, thighs quivering against his hips.

Minho cradled you as you came down, smoothing the top of your head, then eventually helping you stand on your own. “You okay?” He took both sides of your face gently in his palms. “By the way, what is that you were gonna ask me earlier? Sorry…”He bashfully grinned at you. “I had other things on my mind.”

You took his face in your hands too, firstly brushing over the little mole on his nose, then delighting in the soft hairs of his cheeks.

“It’s okay. I got my answer.”

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angstysebfan · 3 years

Text

The Truth Will Set You Free- Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader, Thor x Reader (other Avenger characters)

AU: Modern

Summary: You dated for two years, and thought he was the one for you. One day you came home and found him with someone else. After running away from you, you return home and found yourself in the arms of Thor. When Thor decides to introduce you to his friends at a dinner, you realize that there’s something familiar about the house you were visiting.

Warnings: implied cheating, language

You sit in the passenger seat of the vehicle driving towards an unknown destination. You turn to look at your boyfriend, Thor, and just take in how much happier you have been over the last six months since you started dating. You knew you were a mess when you first met him, 1 year ago. You had given up on men and relationships, and decided to never to trust anyone. Your last boyfriend cheated on you after two years together. You thought he was the love of your life and when you caught him with someone else you figured maybe love wasn’t real. However, Thor manage to show you that love is still possible.

Didn’t realize how long you were staring until Thor dragged you from your thoughts, “You okay? You look kinda nervous,” he asked as he squeezed your thigh.

You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, “I just want them to like me,” you respond with a smile.

Thor smiled as he pulled up in front of the house and parked. “These people have become my family over the last 2 years. I know they are going to love you,” he says before leaning over and giving you a kiss.

Thor then gets out of the car and runs around to open the door for you, which makes you smile. You look up at the house and can’t help but feel like you have been here before.

“Who owns this house? It looks so familiar to me,” you ask Thor as he leads you to the front door.

“My friend Steve and his fiancé Peggy,” Thor says.

You abruptly stop and stare at the house. No wonder you recognize it. There can’t be that much of a coincidence. Thor stops and looks at the panic in your face.

“Babe, you ok?” He asks concerned.

You pull your hand away from his and start walking backwards toward the car, shaking your head as you try to calm your racing heart. No way are you about to walk into a room with those people. With him.

“Baby? Look at me,” Thor says cupping your cheeks. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You take a deep breath as the memories start flashing in front of your face. You remember all the good, the laughing, cuddling, kissing, love making. Then you remember all the bad. The walking into your shared apartment, seeing the two of them cuddling in your bed sound asleep. The crying, the yelling, the leaving, the breakdown.

“Thor... I-I don’t think I can do this,” you whisper as you tremble.

Thor pulls you into his arms tightly to help ground you. You feel your heart rate return to normal slowly as he rocks you and kisses the top of your head. When he hears you sigh he pulls away slightly, “What’s wrong?” He asks.

You swallow the lump “I- it’s just a lot of new people,” you say, deciding to not tell him your pathetic story. At least not yet. “I’m just not ready,” you say as you try to pull yourself away and back to the car.

“I know your scared, but I promise it will be fine. I told them all about you, and I really want you to meet my friends. I’m always the only solo guy, and now I want to show my girl off,” he says pleading.

You felt terrible that Thor always hung out with his friends alone, when they are all in couples. But now that you know who they are, how can walk into that house and face them? You look up into Thor’s beautiful blue eyes and sigh in defeat.

You look down at your trembling hands and try to find courage. You wonder if you should tell Thor now why you are worried, but you don’t want things to be awkward with his friends. You look back up and nod and are blessed with a breathtaking cheesy smile in return. It makes your heart flutter.

Thor grabs your hand again and heads up to the house. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he knocks on the door. You can’t help but think back to that day.

Flashback

You walk into your apartment after a long day of work, completely exhausted. All you wanted was a glass of wine, some greasy takeout food, and the love of your life to hold you in his arms. As you look around the apartment you noticed that everything was in place but the man of the hour, Bucky, was missing. Usually he would be sitting in the living room awaiting your return like a puppy, but today he was absent.

You walk down the hall toward your bedroom, wondering if maybe he went to take a nap. You slowly open the door and peek in and what you see completely destroys your heart. You always wondered if there was something between the two of them. They always seemed too close for your comfort, but you always hoped that he loved you enough that he would never hurt you. I guess you were wrong.

You look at the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with, cuddled up with none other than Natasha Romanoff, in your bed both with no shirts on. You push the door open so forcefully, it slams against the wall, causing both of them to jump awake.

You couldn’t help the tears falling down your face as you screamed and cursed at both of them. Bucky flies out of the bed to calm you, but you just smack him and tell him to not touch you. You must have blacked out because the next thing you remember is having all your clothes packed and walking out the front door toward your car, Bucky pleading with you to stop.

End flashback

The door opens an you see a familiar tall blond man, who welcomes Thor with a smile. You try and hide behind Thor to gather a few more seconds of courage. Thor turns behind him and wraps his arm around you, pulling you forward.

“Steve this my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is my good friend Steve,” Thor says with a smile.

You and Steve stare at each other. Steve in disbelief, you in terror. You slightly shake your head, trying to tell Steve that Thor doesn’t know. Steve apparently gets the message because he reaches out to shake your hand, “Nice to finally meet you,” he says.

You nod in response, not trusting your voice at the moment. Before you knew it, Thor was pulling you into the house. As you all turn the corner, Steve announces to the room, “Look who is here!”

Everyone turns to greet Thor. When he pulls you to his side you hear the collective gasps before a thunderous silence. All eyes are on you. You look from face to face of the people you once considered friends, before you lock eyes with the man that tore your heart apart.

You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. You don’t even hear when Thor introduces you to the crew. You pull your eyes away and see Natasha sitting on the couch in shock. You want nothing more then to smack the beautiful right off her face.

Steve interrupts the silence, “Y/N we are all so glad to meet you, right guys?” He says to the group.

They look at him confused before looking at you again, but you are looking at your feet in embarrassment. Sam jumps in, “Of course! Welcome!”

Everyone relaxes after that, but all you feel is tension from all of them, but especially Bucky, who hasn’t stopped staring at you from the moment Thor pulled you in. You were here. You were back. But you were no longer his.

Part 2

Welcome back everybody!!! Sorry for being away for so long. I think I burnt myself out before but I’m back and ready to roll!! Feedback is appreciated!

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257 notes · View notes

quicksilverrwrites · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s your first date with peter maximoff, and the tension between the two of you has been building for weeks. you share a passion like no other, and there's only one place this date can go: the dark back alley of the arcade, a place where no soul dare to go lest they bare the damned title of 'staff'. or quicksilver and scribe, i guess. you pick. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, sexual innuendos, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader (sorry americans <3), make out scene and sexual attraction 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the character that features as y/n in my fics is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

Your date with Peter comes around the corner faster than you thought it would considering you’re not exactly the typical ‘student’ at Xavier’s School.

You’d thought it would take forever for the week to pass: typically, you spend your time waiting for your friend group to get out of lessons. You’re older, having graduated school when you lived in the United Kingdom, so the only lessons you attend are that of Power Efficiency, Mutant Physiology and Ethics, the latter two being optional and studied merely out of interest. The rest of your schedule consists of a lot of free time. You don’t work—with all the money you have, why would you? Uncle Charles keeps nagging you to do something with your time, something productive, but after what you went through in England with your father…

Making friends here was difficult enough. Dealing with your powers in a new situation—coming to this school—was enough. You’re not exactly an extrovert, either, which is why you’re so surprised that you and Peter click so well.

He’s eccentric and annoying and perfect. Okay, perhaps not perfect in a literal sense, but to you he is. Sure, his leather jacket kind of smells from age and sometimes he talks so fast that you find yourself struggling to keep up, but you find it endearing. And oh, those eyes—you could watch how they light up when he’s super excited about something forever, you think.

He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while. You wonder if Charles knew what he was doing when he made Peter your buddy upon your arrival at this institute, but in reality, you know it’s because you’re both the oldest students—almost-students?—at this school. Besides, Charles has seen the two of you work together as a chaotic duo, and you’ve heard the sighs and mutterings of the man when he’s been most exasperated because of the both of you. Why, you think, grinning at your reflection in the mirror, would he ever put himself through that chaos if he could avoid it? The first prank you articulated together was the beginning of many, and you’ve practically been inseparable since you first arrived here.

First it was friendship. Then… yeah, it didn’t take much at all to blossom into something more.

You look good, you think, smoothing down Peter’s Rush tee as it hangs oversized on your body. You look really good. Your style is what would be expected of Charles’ niece even despite the fact that you’ve only ever met him a few times in your life: classy, 10% preppy, academic to a fault. You typically match your clothes to the colour of your powers: blue, but azure in particular. Sometimes pastel blue. You’re particular like that. But tonight you’ve opted for something different. Something a little more… Peter.

Your hair falls naturally past your shoulders, and the cool sleeves of a black leather jacket—your father’s leather jacket, the only leather jacket you own—hang from your shoulders while the jacket itself stops at your thighs. It's too big for you. You’ve paired a black skirt with the shirt, but it’s free flowing and a soft material that practically blends in with Peter’s top. Your boots are chunky platforms, black, and this is the darkest your outfit has been in a while.

It still feels… you, though. It feels right. Maybe because Peter feels right, and you stole this tee from him after you stayed over that night in his basement when it was pouring with rain. You both knew you could’ve opened up a portal to get back to your dorm, but neither of you wanted that.

You both want this, though. You both want each other.

The very acknowledgement of that fact forces you to take a steadying breath in, but the sound of a knock at your door makes your breath stammer. You look at the clock frantically. Is he here already? You both agreed on seven thirty, and it’s only seven. You had a schedule. Arcade, dinner, and whatever was left for after. Maybe a kiss if you work up the courage. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought. But—

“Ah—hello?” A familiar voice sounds from the door. You breathe a sigh of relief: Kurt. “I came to see if you needed help with anyzi—”

You cross the room to the door and open it before Kurt can finish his sentence.

Kurt grins. As usual it’s a sheepish grin, but there is excitement in his eyes.

“Excited?” Kurt asks. “I vould be if I vere going on a date with ze magnificent Quicksilver.”

You grin at him and roll your eyes, ushering him in the room before you close the door behind you. “Don’t say that in the hallway!” You scold him, not entirely serious. “Anyone could be listening.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Could it be that you are embarrassed?”

Your eyes widen, brows rising too. “No! It’s just—it’s nice now that things between us are private. And… I want to take things slow. I’ve been on dates before, and when you tell people about it it’s always the same thing: when are you going to do this? When are you going to do that? I don’t want to be pressured. And explaining my reasoning to want to take things slow is almost as tiring as actually working myself up into confidence so that I’m not nervous the entire time—”

“You definitely seem nervous.”

You scowl at your friend. “I am not nervous.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

At that, you know your face is starting to flush as red as a tomato. “You are insufferable sometimes.”

Kurt grins. “A few weeks ago, I vould have been hurt to hear you say this.”

You scoff, batting him playfully on the arm. “Are you going to walk me down to the common room or not?”

Kurt’s face takes on an air of confusion. “Ze common room? Why there?”

You shrug softly. “Peter is meeting me there.”

Kurt’s eyes light up with amusement. “Ah,” he responds, and you know by the exaggerated upwards tilt of his head that the next words out of his mouth are going to be sarcastic. “Very discreet, yes. I bet he will bring flowers.”

You scoff once more, parting your lips in playful annoyance as you turn to leave the room, but Kurt appears in front of you before your hand reaches the doorknob. He opens the door, extends his hand to you when his back is pressed against it, and the bow he delivers is nothing but formal. Gentlemanly. He probably learned it in the circus. You give him a teasingly formal nod as you accept his fingers in your own.

The door closes behind you, locks with a wave of your hand, and with a deep breath, the two of you venture down the halls of the manor.

***

You hear the sounds of people cursing at Peter before you actually see Peter.

You and Kurt turn to look at the double doors which lead into the common room at the same time, but Peter comes to a speedy stop in front of the both of you before you can even track his movements… and Peter’s eyes glaze over your appearance, your outfit, as his face pales.

You smirk at the sight of it. You know he likes it. Likes seeing you in his clothes. He looked at you the same way when you first walked out of the bathroom attached to the basement in his tee and grey shorts after that night in the rain. He had slept on the sofa then, had given you his bed, but he’d mentioned to you a couple of days after that his sheets still smelled like a mix of him and you.

You knew then that he couldn’t get the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head.

His outfit isn’t a change from what he usually wears, but he still looks amazing. Hot. The sight of him takes your breath away every time you see him. Silver-and-black jacket, white tee with a band insignia on it, and leather pants with his silver shoes. You can’t forget the goggles on his head, either. But—wait, no, there is something different. A sort of smell.

“What are you wearing?” You ask, the end of your sentence tinged with laughter.

Peter glances down at his outfit. “What?” He asks, confusion—and the slightest bit of worry?—in his gaze. “What's wrong with this?”

“No, silly,” you laugh, “your aftershave. What is it?”

It’s the very definition of seventies musk. It’s musky, leathery, and there’s the faintest smell of whiskey. He’s put way too much on, but your mother always used to complain about how much perfume you put on, too. You’re wearing it now: it’s sweet with the air of something more expensive. Valentino.

When you asked the lady in the store to let you try the ones which smelled sweet like vanilla, this was the first one she showed you. Out of the eight you had the choice of, you were sold on the very first one. You know that the best way to get a guy to fall for you is to smell sweet like candy—it reminds them of their childhood. Or in Peter’s case, you guess it might just remind him of twinkies. You know he loves those.

Peter’s cheeks flush red, and he lowers his head as he laughs. “Oh, man. My mom was right. I really stink, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh: a genuine laugh, teeth in your smile and all. You stand from the sofa you were sitting on with Kurt, and you realise only then that he’s already disappeared. You feel a twinge of guilt for not noticing earlier, but you forgive yourself for that: it is your date night, and Kurt is forever polite.

“You smell great, Peter,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. He doesn’t smell bad — it’s better than the leather jacket smell. “And I’m excited for our,” you glance around, whispering, “date.”

Peter’s eyes light up at that. “Right. Date. You mind if I—?”

He gestures to your neck. Whiplash. Right. You shake your head. “Just don’t mess up my hair.”

He blinks at you. “Do you realise how much of a challenge that is?”

Your smile is sickly sweet and riddled with sarcasm. “You’ll figure it out.”

His expression goes slack. He likes it when you do that; when you’re mean to him. You’re a lovely person typically—you reached the lucky end of the trauma spectrum, the opposite of which being the angry side which could’ve made you an arse—but it’s so easy to tease Peter. You like the power in being able to wrap him around your finger. You’ve never had this power over any man before, and after feeling powerless for so long, it's thrilling.

Peter clears his throat, steps towards you, and you swear he’s trying to use the lightest touch possible as he steadies your neck and places a shaky hand on your waist—

And then you’re off.

The world is barely more than a blur. You can’t keep up. Just as you think you’ve gotten used to it, Peter turns a corner—or at least you think that's what happens, because that’s how you would describe the sensation of being almost jolted to the side. And just when you think you can’t take any more, he stops. You’re in the mall, right outside the blue-walled and darkly lit arcade.

Peter’s hands move gently from your body and you lean your hands against your thighs to try to stop the world from spinning. You’ve gotten used to the nauseating feeling this sort of travel gives you now, but you’re not used to the dizziness.

“You okay?” Peter asks, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s assessing you for any potential damage. His hand hovers over your back as if he’s afraid to overstep his bounds, but you would lean into his touch any day.

“Yeah,” you breathe, slowly easing upwards. “I’m good.”

Peter glances over your face in another silent check before he nods. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

You gape at him. Yeah, that sarcastic comment has knocked the dizziness right out of you. “Oh, you’re on.”

You’re less confident than you seem, but you don’t think Peter picks up on it as he grins and bouncily makes his way into the Arcade. You follow him, shoulder brushing against his as you catch up to his gait, because luckily you both walk fast. He turns to look at you and smiles, softer this time, and you almost get caught up in the softness of his eyes before your heart stammers, your throat closes up, and—

Oh, god. You’re not good with this. The romance. It makes you tense and nervous.

You turn away from him, hands wrapping around the controls of the nearest arcade game. “I call shotgun.”

Peter laughs and comes to a stop next to you. “I know you’re British and that makes you, like, socially awkward, but that only applies to cars.”

You nudge him in the side—hard, but not hard enough to really do damage. He hisses in annoyance, muttering jeez, lady, under his breath. You ask, “Are you really going to deny me my request on our date?”

Peter grins at you, fingers clenching around the neighbouring controls. “Depends. What do I get out of it?”

You smirk at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “A kiss or two at the end of this, perhaps.”

You watch Peter’s adam’s apple bob. “Per—perhaps?”

You grin. “Depends how you behave.”

You don’t need to read thoughts like your uncle to know that Peter has to be telling himself to breathe. Because it seems like an awful lot of effort for him to successfully inhale and exhale, and he doesn’t say anything before he slams a coin—a quarter? you don’t understand American money—into the machine and the BEGIN GAME screen buzzes to life.

It’s pretty hard for you to catch your breath as you both play in silence, too.

Eventually, conversation picks back up again. A sarcastic comment. The occasional compliment. Peter’s good at these games, but so are you. Arcade stand after arcade stand, his teasing remarks make your heart flutter… as well as something deeper within you, too. You’ve never felt attraction like this before, and truthfully, it’s driving you wild.

“Dad wasn’t around much back home,” you reveal, your eyes glued to the avatar on the screen as it darts around, “so I had a lot of time to kill. The arcade became my home. So yeah, it’s safe to say I can easily kick your arse.”

“Arse,” he teases, mimicking the way you speak. “Trying to let me let you win with a sob story, Xavier? Nah, not going to work.”

You gape at him, taking your eyes off the screen for a mere second, but Peter takes the opportunity to kill your avatar for good. With mock outrage, you quip, “I was not trying to do that!”

He grins at you, his eyes glowing purple and red in the light of your dying avatar. “Ah,” he whispers, “victory tastes sweet.”

You press your lips together in defeat, and then you sigh as you take your hand in his. “Come on. I want a slushie.”

Peter lets you drag him away, and the two of you settle down at the food stand in the arcade as the lights around you buzz blue and purple.

You like the lighting in here, you think, as you step up to the worker. “Two slushies, please,” you tell him, smiling politely. “One red and blue for me, and Peter—?”

“All of them,” he says, nodding towards the flavours.

You part your lips in surprise. All of them? There are about eight flavours up on that display, and you know it’s all going to melt into a mess of slush that barely tastes like anything other than sugar. But the worker has obviously been asked for worse, because he just shrugs and gets to work. One pump, two pumps, three pumps—he goes through them all with the finesse of someone who has worked at a place like this for far too long, and when he hands you your simple two-flavoured slushie in comparison to Peter's complex one, you feel like a bit of a slushie fraud.

You go to reach into your pocket to grab your card, but Peter pays in cash before you can get it out. The cashier gives him a dollar and seventy two cents change, and your date nods in thanks to the cashier before he turns to you with a grin that’s more genuine than cheeky. “My treat.”

You lower your gaze to hide how wide your smile is as you laugh. “Thanks, Peter.”

He nods, and the two of you stand there awkwardly for a second, you sucking innocently on your straw as he stares at you, before he looks at the table and chairs nearby. He clears his throat. “Wanna sit?”

You shrug politely and he pulls out a chair for you. Gentleman. Did his mother give him a run-down of what to do and what not to do before he came here? Probably. You smile at him, your insides warming as you sit down in your seat. This slushie is good, you think, slurping it up through the straw as Peter takes a seat opposite you.

He takes a sip of his drink before he asks, “So the thing about your dad. I know it’s a sore subject considering…” He raises his brows, and you know he means the reason you came here. “But do you mind if I—?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You have too much slushie in your mouth, though, so your words are slurred and you smile bashfully as you cover your lips. Sorry, your look says, but he just grins at you.

Peter forces himself to look away, to turn serious again, as he scratches at a loose bit of film on the table. “Why wasn’t he around? Like, the deadbeat dad kind of thing, or…?”

You shake your head. This time, when you speak, you’ve cleared the slushie from your mouth. Your voice is a bit hoarse from the cold as you respond, “No. He worked a lot. He was either in Germany or the Middle East or—somewhere. Mom has a temper, so I found the arcade was a better place to be than home. It’s easy to lose yourself in the games here.”

Peter nods slowly, his head tilting up in a way that indicates thoughtfulness. It’s nice that he’s memorising your words. Nice that he actually cares. That means more to you than anything. “Well, that makes two of us. Absent fathers, I mean, and moms…?”

You grin at him. He's talked about his father before, but always in vague detail. You respond, “Almost-there moms. Just emotionally absent, at least for me. Maybe stunted is the right word.”

Peter lets out a sound between a noise like phew and a laugh. “Harsh, Y/N. No sugarcoating it there.”

You shrug softly, lowering your gaze to your drink. “Sometimes I wonder if…”

Your sentence trails off, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter tilt his head. But he doesn’t say anything. Just lets you take your time as he continues picking at the table.

You force a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if what happened… happened for the best. Between the three of us, nobody was happy. But then I think of what I did to him and it’s just—”

“Hey,” Peter says, and across the table, his hand reaches out to splay across yours. “For people like us—mutants,” he says, his tone lowering at the end of his sentence, “stuff like this is inevitable. But, uh… Charles has kinda helped me see that it’s the first step towards controlling this sort of thing. The first step to doing something better. And hell, Y/N, you’re already, like, rockin’. So you only have further to go.”

Your brows furrow in surprise at his words, your eyes turning doe-like at his reassurances. “You don’t think I’ve already hit rock bottom?”

Peter laughs. “You’ve got too much money for that. I've seen you blow two-fifty on curtains. Still don't know how I watched you do it."

You let out a laugh, and that’s when you properly acknowledge the skin to skin contact. His touch makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Your shoulders roll back as your thumb brushes against his knuckle, and Peter’s eyes dart down to your fingers before he looks right back up at you. He looks nervous, like his heart is thudding just as hard as yours.

“I like this,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Peter lets out a huff of laughter, though from the sound of it, it’s an attempt to hide his nerves. “It’s only a slushie, Xavier."

Your laughter mimics his own, and you press your lips together as your eyes dart between his eyes and lips. You want to kiss him. You’ve never wanted to kiss somebody more. It’s like you could push him up against the wall and kiss him here and now without caring what anybody thinks, and you’ve never had that feeling before.

Peter’s throat bobs again. He’s staring at you in the same way, and you can feel the tension between the two of you as your chest tightens. But you can’t kiss here—not with the table between you, not when one of you will probably spill a slush puppy or both of them, or—

“Another game?” Peter says, his voice hoarse.

You blink the lust out of your eyes. Another game. Yeah—another game, and your slush puppy will melt between and it’ll be easier to drink, and then—

And then you can both get out of here.

You’ve never wanted to leave an arcade more.

The tension cools down a little as you play more games, but it rises as soon as you make a comment about his frantic button mashing movements; something like—

“I hope that’s not the technique you use in bed,” you tease.

Peter chokes, and needless to say, you win that game.

You keep playing until your slushies are finished. Peter finishes his before you, but he lets you have a sip before in order to try it. It’s just as you expected—a sugary mess with the strongest flavour being lime. It’s disgusting, but Peter merely grins at the sight of your face as you grimace at its sour taste.

You’re well aware of the way his gaze rakes up and down your body as you try to finish the rest of your slushie as fast as you can. You’re lingering now; the two of you want to get out of here, dinner be damned. His gaze hugs the curve of your body and lingers on your bare legs, your skin smooth and shaven, the boots you wear only elongating them—

“You look great, by the way,” Peter comments.

You look up at him while still sipping from that straw, and apparently the motion and the eye contact is too much for him. He looks away and mutters something under his breath, something you can’t hear over the beeping of the games and the music playing over the sound effects.

You slam the slushie cup down on the table next to you both with an air of achievement. “What?” You say almost teasingly. You know you’re driving him insane, and even though you’re hardly doing anything, this has been building up for weeks.

“Nothing,” Peter says.

Before you know it, his hand is at your neck and you’re in a different spot entirely.

It’s a short journey this time so you’re not dizzy. You’re still in the arcade, surrounded by the same blue walls and purple-hued lighting. But this area is darker and tucked away, and there’s a door nearby. Probably a staff entrance. This is somewhere you shouldn’t be, but for once, you’re not afraid of breaking the rules.

“The cups,” you comment teasingly. “We should clean them up.”

Peter lets out a breath. “Y/N,” he says, “I—"

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “Please.”

Peter wastes no time in fulfilling your request.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips pressed against yours as his fingers rest at your neck. Innocent, sweet, and yet filled with a sort of passion that sets your lungs and chest ablaze. You can’t help the noise of content that slips from your lips as he backs you up against the wall, and you can’t help but think that this is so unlike him, but—no. No, this is what he’s been keeping buried down for weeks. It's the same for you, too. This is what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

This is only half of what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

You gasp as his tongue slips out against yours, and your own darts out in response to the sensation. You press your body flush into his, the both of you heated and warm from the feel of one another, and your jacket is quickly getting too hot to keep on any longer. It’s cool in here with the air conditioning, but even so the two of you are ablaze and alive and—

“Y/N” Peter whispers against your lips, his nose brushing against yours as he pants for breath, “d’you think we could leave dinner for tonight?”

Your body talks for you before your mind can register what he says. "Yes," you breathe, and then you pull him back to you.

His lips are on yours and there is nothing either of you need to say as his fingers roam down your shoulders, your arms, moving to your waist. He avoids your breasts and you’re grateful for that; despite how much your body might burn for him, you know that would make you feel like an object, like he only wants you for sex—like your mother has told you countless times before.

But as you and Peter kiss in the belly of that arcade, you think you might have found the one. The first person you can finally trust.

It might be the first date and you might want to take things slow, but this feels too good to pass up. Too good to lose. And because of that, you don't plan on letting him go—

Not unless he wants you gone first.

Not until a member of staff kicks you guys out, at least.

#peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff oneshot #peter maximoff fanfic #quicksilver fanfic #if you liked this please let me know! i'm new to fanfic here hehe #i'm open to requests <3 #if you want to know more about the backstory for y/n pls send me an ask!#hope you liked it!

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.03

10/21/2020

Garden of Delights

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,411

Warnings: angst, jealousy, talks of death, talk of sickness, infant sickness, neglect, fluff

A/N: As I said, writing itself right now. lol I’m not really sure how long this story will be. I have the basic premise set and a small plot, but if I choose to make this around the size of Pseudo Princess, I’ll have to come up with a bigger plot than the simple one I’ve got. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I know I certainly loved writing it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Seriously, Thor doesn’t reblog as easily as Bucky or Steve on tumblr, so I TRULY appreciate it.

Please do not RESPOST any of my works on other sides or blogs.

REBLOGS always welcome!

You’re still laughing gently, hiding your chewing behind your hand.

“Stop.” You plead, looking across the table at Thor.

Both of you seated on opposite heads of the table. To your left is Loki, smirking with no shame at the stories just relayed. To your right is Brunnhilde, sipping her wine…well, guzzling would be more apt.

She’s teetering left and right, elbow on the table as she shakes her head at Loki across from her.

They lock eyes and Loki scoffs, “Don’t pretend as if you didn’t want to stab him too when you first met him.”

“I never said I didn’t!” She argues, plopping her glass down a little too hard and the glass makes a loud clink that draws everyone’s gaze.

“Why did you want to stab him?” You ask her, reaching for your own glass of regular wine. Thor had promised that you didn’t want to try the Asgardian mix.

“You won’t wake for a week. Trust me, Your Highness.” He’d been super proper, and it was a little annoying, but you understand why he’s being so careful. He wants to impress everyone, especially the two who sit beside him.

To his left sits a woman, absolutely drop dead gorgeous with creamy moon skin and raven hair. She’s certainly one to watch out for as Brunnhilde had said.

She hasn’t smiled once since she gave you a small stiff grin as Thor had introduced you.

Even now she watches you, her hand resting on the table, a little too close to Thor’s hand for comfort.

Her fingers seem to be inching their way towards his and you feel the beginning bite of fangs in your mouth at the thought of her hating you because she wants Thor for herself.

This also makes you sad because you don’t meet women who are as unique as she, but Lady Sif has drawn a line and you find yourself on one side with Thor while she watches from the other, despising your very existence for taking the man she covets.

On Thor’s right is a man with his dark hair in dreads. Beautiful amber eyes stand bright against his dark skin, and the luxurious gray armor he wears, sits pretty on his muscular form. To his own right is a sword, placed between him and Loki.

He looks less amused by the story Loki and Thor just told them but when he meets your gaze, his eyes betray an amusement. Heimdall, protector of the Asgardian borders, has a soft spot for his King and his friends.

“To put it short,” Brunnhilde begins, popping her lips as she lifts her wine to her lips again, eyes locked on Thor. “He’s a bit of a doofus.”

Thor’s burst of booming laughter in infectious and you laugh too, just as Loki, Brunnhilde, and even Heimdall chuckles along gently.

Lady Sif is the only one who doesn’t laugh but merely smiles as she look at Thor as he shakes his head overwhelmed with amusement.

You know what she sees, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes are endearing. The sparkle of his one blue eye. The loveliness of his golden bearded face all stretched into a stunning smile.

“I am not a doofus!” He protests, then clears his throat and taps his fingers against the table as he makes his face as serious as he can manage. “What way is that to speak of your King?”

Brunnhilde throws her head back outrageously tickled by his words.

“You may be my King, but that does not make you any less of a doofus than before you earned your crown.” She throws at him and Thor laughs again, shaking his head as you quietly chuckle with them, loving this exchange and the ease at which they seem to be.

“What about that made you want to stab him?” You ask her, everyone’s gaze drawn to you and Lady Sif’s smile vanishing.

“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see.” Brunnhilde teases. “My condolences. Being married to this buffoon will be a true test of your character.”

Although her words are said as a joke, your heart gives a small lurch as you meet Thor’s gaze again, and this time he holds it, his own face falling a little to only a soft smile as both of you replay the conversation in the hallway once again.

“I’ll just have to try my best.” You tell her, a small shrug of your shoulder. “He seems alright so far. No major red flags. Besides the obvious.”

Thor’s smile is completely gone now, his brow furrowed as he continues to stare at you, his breathing a little deeper. A little more labored.

You’re nervous as you speak, voice shaking a little as your heart pounds and aches.

“What’s that?” Loki asks, also serious suddenly, picking up on the tension between you and Thor.

It might seem like you’re letting it go on too long on purpose, using it to make everyone uncomfortable, but really you just have to find the strength to speak as your nerves begin to get the better of you.

“Well,” You begin, voice still shaking. “I mean, look at him.”

And they all do.

“He’s also been really nice to me.” You admit, because aside from the unanswered question in the hallway, Thor has treated you respectfully, politely, with genuine concern and compassion…so far. “I think the deal was that I’m supposed to marry him and it’s alright if I don’t love him but, how long can I really resist?”

Brunnhilde scoffs, purging the atmosphere for everyone else of what you’re saying allowing them to relax and laugh at your strange way of telling them you find Thor attractive.

“At least your worries about your wife not liking you are assuaged.” Heimdall claps Thor on the shoulder, visibly shaking his body, but Thor’s intense gaze is on you alone.

Swallowing hard, you reach for your wine glass and take a deep drink, so conscious of Thor’s stare.

Dinner goes on just as it began and before long, Thor is back to laughing and chatting while your own attention is given to Loki and Heimdall whenever he remembers something he’s wants to ask.

When all plates are cleaned and glasses sit empty, dinner officially over, Sif turns hard eyes on you.

“So, I hear that you don’t have parents.” The interest is forced. She couldn’t care less about you or your life.

“Yeah,” You nod. “Um, they died a few months after I was born. Plane accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Heimdall laments kindly.

Beside you, Brunnhilde has her head in her hand, elbow on the table, eyes shut and mouth slightly open.

She’d just been talking so this is new.

“Thank you, but I don’t remember them. My only sorrow comes from never having a family.” You admit. “I grew up in a school—well, really it was an orphanage, but it was run much like a private school with uniforms that the government provided along with a minimal education. I attended until I became a legal adult and my lawyer, came to give me my inheritance.”

“Why weren’t you adopted?” Sif asks, her voice full of well-hidden venom that you can hear only because you know to look for it, her hand is inching towards Thor’s again and while he’s not your husband yet, the urge to stake claim over it is strong.

The way she asks also makes you feel as if she’s waiting to see exactly what is wrong with you. What can she use against you?

You smile, a smirk really, knowing what she’s up to.

You’re not unkind, but you bristle when attacked and Sif is making it easy for you to be defensive.

Searching within yourself for the strength to keep yourself calm, you take a deep breath before you answer.

“I wasn’t a healthy baby. I was sick, all the time. There was even a night my fever became so high that the doctors were sure that I would be left with brain damage. So, they watched me grow, expecting defects, but I got sick less and less the older I got.

“My speech and motor functions were top tier, and my learning capabilities were also fine.”

Everyone is silent, watching you with somber expressions. You’re a little on edge with them paying you such close attention, but this was the point of the dinner. To get to know each other.

“Unfortunately, potential parents were warned about the possible challenges I might face as I grew older, which put many of them off. While they wanted an infant, they didn’t want one that was broken.”

“I’m sorry for their ignorance.” Heimdall offers. “Clearly you grew up to be a lovely woman, but even if you had not, I’m saddened by their lack of compassion.”

You can only smile at him, having come to terms with the facts of your childhood long ago.

“Anyway, that’s why no one adopted me. So, a true family is something I’ve never had. I’m…” You blink, wondering how honest you want to be here. “I think it’s one of the things I’m looking forward to most. After tonight, I’m more convinced than before that this is will be a good environment to build a family. You’re all so nice.”

Loki, Brunnhilde—who’s awake again—and Heimdall are smiling. Lady Sif sits stiffly, her hands pulled onto her lap as she keeps her eyes locked on the empty plate in front of her.

Your heart stutters as you meet Thor’s eyes again. Staring deep into the single blue orb still locked on you.

“As conflicted as my past with the people in this room has been, I promise you, that is the right decision.” Loki assures you, a peaceful smile on his face that somehow comforts any misgivings you’ve been having.

At least about the people you’ll be around daily.

Your conversation with Thor in the hallway is a different matter, and one that you really want to finish.

“Well,” Brunnhilde slaps her hands on the table, rising to her feet with a little sway. “I think that’ enough pleasant conversation for me. I am tired-”

“And drunk.” Loki adds.

“-And that.” She agrees. “I need some sleep. So, Y/N, Your Royal Highness this has truly been a pleasure. I will be by in the morning to see you about wedding arrangements. Not too early though, you know—”

She steps out from in front of her chair, already walking towards the door large double doors.

Heimdall rises too, then Loki, Thor, and Lady Sif.

You stand last, fixing your dress as you do, making sure it isn’t stained. Luckily, it isn’t.

“This has indeed been illuminating.” Heimdall agrees, moving over to you to take your hand and press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Your Highness, it has been a true pleasure. I look forward to getting better acquainted with you.”

Loki is smiling, standing by the door but then he turns his eyes on Lady Sif.

“A word, Sif?” She looks at him, freezing beside Thor where she’d already begun to take his arm to pull his attention. “It won’t take long.”

With a sigh, she gives you one look before moving out the door in a huff, Heimdall following. Loki gives Thor a nod, something silent passes between them. With one final nod to you as well, Loki leaves.

“I really am very sorry that Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun could not join us. Unfortunately, the Warrior’s Three are highly sought throughout the galaxies.” Thor says, moving towards you with calm slow steps. “They should be back for the wedding though.”

“I’m excited to meet them. Everyone was so kind.” You observe. “Well, almost.”

Thor looks confused, stopping just at the corner of the table beside you, his fingers nervously tracing the shape of the edge.

“Seriously? You didn’t notice?” You shake your head, somehow finding it funny. “I think Brunnhilde might be right about you being a doofus.”

Thor laughs once, blows a quick raspberry in denial at your conclusion. “Why do you say that?”

“Thor, Lady Sif hates me.” You point out, it’s so obvious to you and was obvious to Loki too at least.

“No.” Thor shakes his head.

“She kept trying to grab your hand! She kept glaring daggers at me.” You sigh. “She’s in love with you.”

“Sif is like a sister.” Thor tells you, as if this negates her feelings as well.

“She’s still in love with you.”

Thor sighs. “I’ll speak with her.”

“Don’t bother. I think Loki’s beating you to it.”

“Walk with me?” He asks, and your heart goes into sudden arrest.

Fingers nice and tingly, you swallow the lump in your throat. “What?”

“I would like it very much if you walked with me for a while. The night is not over yet, and despite the exhaustion of my court, it’s not actually that late yet. The gardens my people have cultivated for the palace are beautiful. I’d love to show them to you.” He offers his hand, waiting patiently for you to take it but you can only gawk at him.

“Isn’t it cold outside?” You ask, on edge.

Thor drops his hand. “Oh, right. Estrid?”

She’s already waiting by the door, auburn hair looking slightly disheveled.

“Ah, Estrid.” Thor smiles, big dopey grin on his face. “Oh, your hair…”

He gestures and she quickly fixes it.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” She gasps.

“No, no. Just looked funny.” He eases her, and she calms instantly, smiling bashfully. “Can you fetch Her Highness a jacket?”

Estrid turns and rushes from the room but returns only seconds later with a long navy cloak. It isn’t a jacket, but it will match your dress nicely.

“That’s not a jacket.” You observe, feeling self-conscious.

Thor takes it from her and holds it open for you. There’s a clasp around the throat that will sit against your collarbone. “It’s a cloak. It’ll keep you just as warm as a jacket.”

You turn for him and he slips it over your shoulders, holding it until you turn to face him then he quickly fastens the clasp.

“Better?” He checks, fixing it around you.

You can’t find your voice to answer. Heart is racing. Damn him. This isn’t going to work if he keeps being sweet.

He offers you his arm and you hesitate, timidly wrapping your hand around the lower part of his large bulky bicep again.

“Wonderful.” He smiles wide. “Estrid, Her Highness will be in later, please prepare her bedroom so that she might go to sleep as soon as we return.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She curtsies quickly then turns and rushes out to get your room ready.

“She doesn’t have to do that.” You tell him, turning to watch her flee. “I can make my own bed and stuff.”

“It’s her job.” Thor tells you. “Will you take it from her?”

You think about it carefully, and despite the fact that Thor is a warrior and has travelled around the world sleeping in terrible places with no comforts at times, you understand in this moment that having servants is something he’s used to.

“No.” You realize and make a mental note to let these people do their work without putting up too much of a fight.

Thor leads you off down a side door into another dark wooden hallway with beautiful cobbled floors beneath your feet with a long carpet running its length. No one seems to be walking around in this hallway which makes you think it’s more secluded.

“Did David tell you I like flowers?” You check, wondering how much information Thor has about you.

“No? I didn’t know that though. That makes this even better.” He realizes.

You lapse into silence, hand trembling around his bicep as your mind replays the last two hours, picking apart every moment, every word shared, and every lingering look Thor had given you.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Thor asks, his voice much lower, quieter.

It’s an intimate volume and it startles you, giving you a little bit of a delay in your response.

You meet his eyes and he’s staring right at you, soft smile stretched across his lips. It’s more a peaceful expression, calming.

And yet, it has the opposite effect on you, and you gasp a little as you catch your breath. Your heart is pounding through your ribcage.

“It was good.” You nod, looking towards the large stone archway up ahead. One of the doors stands open, the Norwegian night beyond.

You can see a splash of beautiful green beyond and can already hear the soft tinkling of flowing water from what is probably a fountain.

“And the conversation?” He asks, tilting his head to one side as he gives it better thought. “Aside from Sif.”

“They were all super nice, Thor.” You smile, honestly grateful to Loki, Brunnhilde, and Heimdall for their warm welcome. “I wish Lady Sif had been more open. She’s been fighting at your side for a long time, right?”

“She has.” Thor nods, as the two of you break through the doorway and you’re greeted with an elegant garden larger than even the circular room you’d first met with Thor in.

Your jaw drops and you stop walking, gaping at the collection of flora and fauna each piece delicately pruned and cared for. There are certainly several small fountains, dark gray with small underwater lights to provide the garden with diffused illumination.

Despite the chilly night, the garden makes you feel warm with flowers of every color. Roses in white and red, lilies with stunning white, carnations in pink, wine, cream, yellow, and purple. Throughout the roses are smaller pink flowers you don’t know but they’re adorable and the fragrance in this garden is intoxicating.

“Wow.” You whisper.

“You like it?” Thor asks, smiling a little wider as he waits for you to take your long look.

“It’s beautiful.” You nod.

“Come.” He pulls you along gently, urging you to walk again.

You follow, your hand sturdier around his arm. “Do you like gardens too?”

Thor nods. “My mother used to cherish her garden. When we arrived, it was the first thing I had commissioned. They were finished building it before they even finished the palace.”

“She passed?” You wonder, looking up at the echo of sadness in his eyes.

“A while ago.” Thor nods. “I miss her counsel. She was always the voice of reason and logic in my life.”

“I’m sorry.” You offer, hoping it’s a comfort.

You reach up with your other hand, wrapping it around his arm too.

He looks down at you, eyes searching, confused? But his smile never wavers. “Thank you.”

The two of you lapse into silence again, you busy looking at every flower you pass in admiration, Thor lost in thought.

“I’m going to miss my herb garden.” You lament with a sigh.

“You had an herb garden?” Thor wonders, turning his attention back to you.

“Just a small one. I only had some rosemary and thyme. I wanted to grow some mint, parsley, basil, and dill but I didn’t get the chance.”

Thor stops walking, gently shakes his arm to make your hand slide down along his forearm. As it falls, you takes hold of it.

You’re startled, but you don’t pull away, your mind devouring the information you can gleam from this moment as quickly as it can.

His hand is warm. No…it’s hot. Like he’s had it shut for a long time. The skin is a little rough, calloused, but not uncomfortable. You can just imagine the battles he must have fought. His hand is so big. Fingers wrapped softly around yours. He gives it a squeeze and you feel it in your core that this isn’t going at all how you planned.

You almost want to run to your room and hide under your blankets with the speed at which you can feel yourself dropping your guard to him.

The plan had been to marry him, never love him, and live your life as best you can and probably take a lover at some point. You should be able to love too.

But it isn’t supposed to be Thor. You’re not supposed to fall for him.

You remind yourself of his refusal to be honest with you. You remind yourself that his heart is already given and accepted. Jane loves him too, even if she won’t marry him to prevent him from marrying someone else.

You can understand why she can’t give up her life to take on this one. It’s a lot to ask of anyone.

It helps you grasp onto reality, to remember the conversation before dinner and his inability to commit to honesty when It comes to Jane.

“I have something to show you.” He tells you and pulls you down the length of the garden until you reach a greenhouse.

Thor releases your hand and throws the doors open before holding his hand out for you to take again.

You do, and he pulls you into the narrow but long space. Each side is lined with planter boxes, each box holds a different herb, including all of the ones you mentioned before, and some you have never seen before.

“What is this?” You gasp, reaching for a particularly strange one in a deep blue, almost black color.

“It’s the Asgardian version of lavender.” He tells you, placing his other hand over the one you’re reaching out for it with. “But it stings a little for humans to touch with bare hands. There are garden glove in the box by the door if you want to cut some for your room later. It smells wonderful. My mother used to keep some on her desk.”

“I can take some?” You gasp, turning to look up at him and he’s standing so damn close, you shrink in surprise.

“Of course.” He smiles at you, “This is your home now. Anything in these gardens is yours to have.”

He’s so fucking nice! You hate him.

You’re too stunned by his proximity to speak, hands twitching under his own. He seems to realize what’s got you tongue-tied because he takes a step and one hand back but keeps hold of the other.

“I wanted to talk with you, it’s why I’ve brought you here.” He pulls you along, and you give the herb garden one final look before he shuts the doors and moves back towards the center of the garden.

There you find several white marble benches around a small manmade pond, surrounded by more flowers.

Thor leads you to one of these benches, then extends a hand towards it so that you’ll sit.

You do, nervous suddenly as he sits beside you, taking his hand back for the first time since he began to show you the garden.

“You’re making me nervous.” You admit, your mouth moving before you can stop it. Anxious is not a good state for you.

“No.” He assures you, shaking his head, full of concern. “No, please don’t be nervous. I only wanted to continue our conversation from before dinner.”

“Oh.” You nod, expecting to be denied the honesty you want.

How will you use his refusal to do it as an excuse to not fall for him if he agrees to it?

“You’re right.” He nods, turning in the seat to face you a little better, your body mirroring his.

“I am?”

“Yes.” He takes a long deep breath. “After everything that was said during dinner, after watching my friends meet with you and get to know you, I realize that you’re right in what you say. I am asking a lot from you. More than I care to admit.”

Your mouth is suddenly dry.

“Did you mean what you said?” He whispers, a trace amount of uncertainty in his deep voice.

“What did I say?” You ask, voice not as quiet but still a little breathless.

“About falling for me?”

“Oh.” Your brain goes fuzzy and your heart is probably going to burst through your chest like in that one horror movie you watched as a kid.

“Truth is, I chose you because you were different.” He nods. “Not, different from regular humans. Most of them are very much like you, which is great. I love humans. But compared to the other ladies that came to meet for this purpose, I…if I’d wanted someone who would turn a blind eye while I and Jane continued to see each other, then I should have chosen one of them.

“They knew what was expected, as did you, but I didn’t consider how the difference in you would affect your own responses.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me anymore?” You ask timidly, feeling a rush of emotions all mixing together, turning into confusion.

You’re almost happy that he doesn’t want you anymore. You won’t have to marry him and deal with Jane and a life of standing by watching him be with someone else while the world thinks you’re together.

Another part of you, the part that’s already out of your control—even though you’ll never admit it—can’t help but feel depressed that he’ll be married to someone else.

“No!” Thor rushes to assure you, sliding over closer so that he can take your hand again, his knee touching yours. “No, that’s not at all what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that I understand what you meant. I know why you were upset. I’m sorry that I did not consider this whole thing more carefully from your perspective.”

You feel a wave of relief and know you’re screwed. It’s already too late.

“But I need you to answer my question.” He says.

Your eyes go wide at the audacity of this man as you laugh because it’s so funny of him to need that of you when he couldn’t return the favor before. “You didn’t answer mine!”

He smiles, chuckling. “Answer mine first.”

As you consider him, blue eye staring at you with no restraint for the way his gaze makes you feel, your mood grows somber, all traces of your laugh gone.

“Yes.” You sigh. “I’ve never been in love before.”

You shrug.

“And it’s not like you’re not…I mean…You know damn well what you look like.” You growl.

Thor laughs, throwing his head back.

“And then you come in with that voice and you’re not rude or…I mean, you were a little mean with the whole asking me to put up with being married and having no love in it. Like, I get that it might be normal for royals or whatever, but I’m not really royal. I haven’t lived in a palace with servants and a crown on my head.

“I grew up in an orphanage with no friends. No one has ever loved me. My parents loved me, I think, but they died and no one has cared about me like that since. Even now, the only person on my side is David, and I know he only stuck around because he felt bad for me. He’s also getting paid by my estate, so…there’s that.

“I’m not asking you to love me. I know that you love someone else, but I was only asking for you to be open with me about it. If you want to meet Jane, fine. Meet her. But do it somewhere that I can’t see. Do it but tell me that’s where you’ll be so that even if rumors fly in my ear that Thor is meeting with his mistress, it won’t hurt as much. It won’t make me feel as stupid, because I already know that’s where you are.”

Thor’s hand over yours grows tighter, his face lamenting for who knows what reason, because you’re not in his head but you can see that he feels bad which is stupid and you hate him for it because it means he cares.

You only just met him but with every passing moment in his presence, you fall more and more. It’s not love yet. You know that. It can’t be a crush because you know him too well. You like him. You’ll admit that.

“To answer your question more clearly,” You take a deep breath, exhaling quickly to wipe away the excess of emotion that surged forward suddenly. “Yes. I meant it. I don’t love you now, but I think I could.”

Thor nods, looking down at your hand, turning it over in his own.

The silence feels endless! He won’t speak, but his thumb keeps caressing your hand and you kinda wanna bite him for it.

“If my mother were here, she’d be disappointed in me. She’d tell me that I should let go of Jane. She met her, and while she liked her but…We are clearly moving along different paths and as much as I love her, she is not the one for me. Not anymore. My mother would definitely think so.

“I think she would have really liked you.” He admits, and his words give you comfort. “She would have called me a fool to pass up such a sweet and level-headed woman.”

“I’m not that level-headed.” You confess. “I’ve got anxiety issues sometimes.”

Thor smiles.

“I think she would have been right.”

Wait, is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“I will talk with Jane tomorrow to…to break things off. It won’t be the first time for us to part ways and I think in the long run it will be better for us both.”

“Thor, you don’t have to-”

“But I do.” He nods, meeting your eyes. “I need to let go of my past to embrace my future. And that’s you and New Asgard. It’s my people.”

“I want this marriage to work.” He continues. “I chose you and I meant that choice. Out of all the women I met, your picture of an ideal marriage was the closest to mine. It would make me happy to live that life with you.”

You’re breathless, chest heaving as you struggle to find a coherent thought.

Thor seems to realize that you’re struggling because he places your hand on your lap, tapping it gently before scooting back a little to give you space.

He’s so fucking massive! How is it possible that this is seriously your life? This God will be your husband. You’re going to have his kids?!

Your cheeks burn, neck burns, ears burn, legs suddenly clenched together as the fear from before runs quickly through your mind.

They’d wanted a maiden and they got one. Will he talk about it with you later? You can’t bear to talk about it now. You’re too embarrassed and overwhelmed by what he’s saying.

“So,” He starts, rising to his feet to tower over you. Then he falls, gliding gently onto one knee before reaching into his pants to pull from his pocket a small brown pouch.

He opens it, turns it over, and into his hand tumbles a shining silver ring.

“I chose this before I knew you liked flowers but now that I know, it makes me glad I picked it.” He smiles, “It just made me think of you when I went searching so, I hope you like it.”

He grabs it with two fingers, pinching the thin band delicately to hold it upright so that you can see the stunning design. A round diamond rests in the middle, shining brilliantly at the center of what looks like a lotus flower made of smaller diamonds filling its leaves.

You hate him because you absolutely love this ring. You love the sight of him on his knee in front of you. You love the way he scoots closer so that he can hold your hand easier as he gently straightens it and presses the ring to the tip of your finger.

“Will you marry me, Y/N? Will you be my Queen?” He asks, and you’re so silent, he grows visibly nervous. “Please?”

You laugh at the hitch in his voice, the plea there.

“Yes, stupid.” You laugh again.

He chuckles as he slips the ring on your finger, then after a moment of hesitation, he hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you down to meet his lips.

Eyes wide, heart stopped, you freeze as hot lips fry your nervous system.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #royal au #arranged marriage au #thor odinson x reader #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt03

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closetedotaku01 · 4 years

Note

Umm could you write something for Tsukishima, Kenma, Kuroo, Iwaizumi with fem! reader who is very touch starved? (if you don't write for that many just pick whoever stands out the most) SFW please.

TOUCH STARVED FEM S/O

A/N: First off: excellent character choices for this! Secondly, thank you so much for requesting so sweetly. Such a kind ask. Thank you thank you. Especially since none of my work is public yet, I really appreciate you trusting an unknown author. I hope you have a lovely day. Finally, I’ve struggled a lot with touch starvation so this feels very close to me. Got a bit self-indulgent. I felt bad because there was no dialogue in the base writing for Kenma & Tsukki so they kinda get HC+ while Iwa’s and Kuroo’s are just standard hc’s. Info on touch starvation at the end if you want it.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

-Tsukishima is smart and perceptive.

-So it doesn’t take long for him to realize that you’re touch starved.

-He sees how you simultaneously shy away from any physical affection while clearly wanting some. Sees how anxious you are and how easy it is for you to get overwhelmed. Takes note of how you alway seem to be holding yourself, and often wear clothes that are heavy and cover your whole body.

-He does not like the situation.

-He knows what you need, but he’s not big on physical affection and not very comfortable initiating it.

-But he is soft for you…. so he’ll pull it together just for you. He starts holding onto you more in public. An arm around your waist, your shoulders, his hand in yours, always giving you something.

-The first dozen or so times it happens you show clear panic at the touch, but he doesn’t even flinch. He’s confident with touching you, and wants you to know he’s here and you can do no wrong.

-When you two are alone together, he’ll pull you into him a lot more than he would have otherwise. He WILL pull you closer to him when you sit far away.

-But he can tell you’re just having a day where you cannot handle it and on days like that he always leaves his body open so you have the chance to cuddle him if you want it, but he makes his actions smaller and quicker so as not to overwhelm you.

-Eventually you start hugging him freely, and he reciprocates just enough. Your arms wrapped tight around his waist, and he lets his arms fall onto your shoulder. It’s hardly a hug, but he rubs your back and has a hand in your hair. It sends sweet tingles of happiness throughout your body.

-You hum lightly at the contact and it’ll force him to pull you in closer.

-Tsukki is very knowing. He encourages a safe and loving environment so you stop feeling afraid to ask for affection. He actually really enjoys when you’re needy, because he can get pretty needy too.

-And if you want to talk about your touch starvation, he’ll listen. But he’s fine just giving you what he can offer. He knows you and just wants you to feel more comfortable.

~~~~~

Your whole body is on edge and you don’t quite know why or how, but everything is setting you off. The blanket on your legs is sending fire-like shivers through your body, the heater keeps playing with your hair and it’s making everything feel warm inside you.

You look over to Kei, who’s just enjoying the film. You were the one who sat far away, though now you wish you were laying on him instead of curled up against the arm rest. But his arms and legs are open wide, and despite this he’s sat up pretty straight. You like being able to see his whole body so open. His face looks relaxed, and the blue light from the TV makes all of him… glow. His glasses, the prominent features of his face, his tousled locks, all lit up and beautiful as ever. It honestly just feels like more temptation, his whole body is open and glowing like a checkpoint in a videogame and you desperately feel the urge to just crawl into him.

Kei’s voice startles you, but he doesn’t even look away from the screen, “Are you going to come over here, or are you just going to stare all night?” You see him open his arms out wider and you jump at the chance. You curl yourself into his side, letting the scent of his body and the feel of him in your arms ease the anxiety, ease the ache for contact. He’s a bit cold so you pull your blanket over the both of you as you let your head fall to his chest, your arm thrown over his midsection, one of your legs thrown over one of his. You’re practically clinging onto him.

You feel panic well up in you at the contact. It’s too much contact and you shouldn’t be so desperate and--

Kei’s arm falls around your back, pulling you closer gently. He lets his fingers trace your spine up and down, up and down. Your mind relaxes. He lets his hand drift down as he starts rubbing small circles into your lower back, and your muscles lose their tension. You’re not clinging. You’re not desperate. You’re with Kei. And you’re wanted. You know he wouldn’t have you here, if he didn’t want you here. And everything eases. You return your eyes to the movie, but your attention is solely the steady cadence of his heart in your ear as he holds you.

Kozume Kenma

-Another basically wordless adjustment.

-Kenma is also very aware of you. Sees you as a challenge for him to understand and is always studying you and what makes you happy and how to cheer you up depending on what’s bothering you. He just loves to know you.

-And so it doesn’t take very long at all for him to figure it out.

-He notices your little movements. How you stare so intently at physical affection among others as if you wish you were apart of it. But you never ask for or initiate it.

-How when you do cuddle with him you get remarkably clingy and hold tight, but if he moves even slightly you pull away almost completely.

-His way of going about this is also pretty subtle.

-Kenma will start sitting with his legs open, and tell you to sit between them, and then he’ll put his head on your shoulder, wrap his arms around you, and play a game in front of you. It’s very much full body contact, without you feeling like you’re under scrutiny, and he’s holding you so you know he wants you there.

-He’s also sure to give you his jackets because he knows heavier clothing simulates human touch and helps people with touch starvation.

-When he sees you staring at people in public who’re being affectionate, and sees that want and confusion in your eyes, he’ll pull his hood down over his face (so he doesn’t have to deal with other people staring) and hold your hand. If he can see you need it, he’ll bring his body close to yours so you’re basically against each other, side by side.

-When you two go out to nice places with friends and he can see you getting touch starved he’ll place his hand in your lap and let you play with his fingers. Tracing his palm and up his forearms a bit. It actually relaxes his nerves a bit too and he learns to love this so much.

-If you ever bring it up he’ll listen, but he never really asks.

~~~~~

Kenma’s been on the floor playing Animal Crossing on the television since you arrived. You didn’t mind. You liked having lazy conversations with him about your day or his town, or scrolling through Instagram with the calming soundtrack in the background.

Like always he sat with his controller in hand as the game was projected on the TV, back against the bedpost, while you laid on the bed. But today is getting to you. You really want to feel his skin against yours, or steal the hoodie he’s wearing, or play with his hair. Anything would do. But you don’t want to come off clingy. Or worse to put Kenma off since you know he likes his distance.

He looks back at you and you give him a weak smile and he immediately stands up.

“Come here. I want to play Smash instead,” Kenma says as he pulls his switch out of the charger.

“I don’t really want to play right now Kenma. I’m pretty tired,” you say as you watch him change out the game cartridge and slip the controllers onto the side of the Switch.

“Just…. Come here, y/n,” he says almost exasperated as he returns to his spot on the floor near the bedpost. You sit down next to him and he immediately repositions himself behind you, and wraps his arms around you. He puts his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him before repositioning them around your arms, and placing his chin on your shoulder.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the feeling of him. The way his body encases you. You feel safe and filled, overflowing with the contact you felt bereft of only moments ago. You took a deep breath in before leaning farther back into him and letting yourself enjoy all that Kenma was willing to give you.

Kuroo Tetsurō

-Ahh finally a vocal boy. My goodness.

-Kuroo is such an observant guy and he knows a bit about touch starvation.

-He didn’t know at first that it was diagnosable or anything. But he was generally aware of what it was.

-But you’ll be chilling at his place and he’ll be lying on his stomach writing something in a notebook and you’ll be sitting against the headboard, his feet by your thighs scrolling through your phone or reading or something. He put on some music and you’re just enjoying each other’s company.

-And then he’ll say something along the lines of, “We should set up boundaries.”

-“Wait, what?”

-“Well, I know you’re not… super comfortable with me yet. And I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t like. But the “line” doesn’t feel very defined.”

-His words are so casual. He hasn’t even looked up from whatever he’s doing, but it doesn’t make much sense. He’s one of the people you’re most comfortable around.

-“Tetsurō, what are you talking about?” and you’re sounding a bit exasperated even though you’re just confused.

-He finally raises his head. He turns to you and sits up, cross-legged. His words are slow and uncertain, “Well like … earlier when we were walking around I… I held your hand and you flinched. And when we met up you came over and gave me a hug, but once I hugged you back you kinda pulled away. It’s fine, I just… want to know what to do to make sure you’re comfortable.”

-And you’re pretty impressed he even noticed because they were all slight movements. But you get a bit anxious. You know he’s a pretty affectionate guy, and this would definitely be a barrier. And it’s your barrier. It’s not his job to fix it and--

-“Get out of your head,” he whispers calmly as he sees the turmoil and paranoia fighting in your eyes.

-He sees straight through you. He knows all too well how you can get.

-So with a deep breath you slowly tell him about touch starvation and your personal journey with it.

-He is deeply curious, but he’ll judge how you’re feeling.

-If you’re not doing great he’ll just nod and remind you that whatever you’re feeling is valid and it doesn’t change anything between the two of you. He’ll sit next to you, leaving a slight gap, and ask if you want to get close to him and take it from there. Asking quietly if he can advance or whatever it is that you need from him.

-If you’re fine with it he’ll ask you questions about when and how and where your personal boundaries are for now and what would make you feel more comfortable and help you grow out of it. And what he should do if you were not in a great mental place. Should he rush in and completely wrap you up in affection? Or should he give you space? He wants to know how to care for you, because he…. Cares so much for you.

-Regardless, of how the rest of that day plays out, he does loads of research on touch starvation. He learns everything he can about it. Takes note of everything he can do to help and common methods that do more harm than good so he doesn’t accidentally make things worse.

-He makes sure to ask you and check in with you before touching you and for the first WHILE that you’re together will interrupt cuddles to ask how you’re feeling. Reminds you constantly that he loves you and that whenever, if ever, you want (or need) touch you can go to him. And if he’s ever being too much he won’t be hurt if you ask him to back up. Makes sure to know how to handle people who are too touch-y for you without making a whole big scene.

-He really just wants to be there for you and have you trust him.

-As time goes on in the relationship he learns to read your tells without asking so much and you grow to need less time away from him, and being able to fully enjoy more of the time you spend closely snuggled up to him.

Iwaizumi Hajime

-Definitely the least observant out of this group (but we still love him). So he doesn’t really notice.

-And he doesn’t care much one way or another for physical affection. So he won’t really offer it if he doesn’t think you’re into it. And since you don’t really initiate, he doesn’t either. He thinks you don’t really want it so he lets it slide because he doesn’t care much.

-It takes a good long while, but eventually you start feeling completely comfortable around him, and he notices how you’ll be more needy. More physically affectionate in short and infrequent bursts.

-And so he reciprocates. Calling you over more often to hang out alone, with you close by his side, offering the slightest bit more PDA.

-But it’s still very limited.

-You eventually realize you have to have a conversation with him about it. He’s on his laptop, but he’s not doing anything important so you decide to do it now while he’s relaxed and at home so it doesn’t have to turn into some big thing.

-“Hajime?”

-“Yeah?” He asks only half paying attention.

-“Can I tell you about something… it’s kinda important.”

-He immediately swivels around to face you, “Yeah sure. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

-You steady yourself and do your best to clear your thoughts and casually bring up touch starvation and calmly explain the bare minimum about how it is and how it affects you and how you would appreciate it if he initiated the actions. And how it’s totally normal if you flinch or shy away at first, but you want to adjust because you do like being close to him.

-And he’s so chill about it.

-“Okay. Do you want to cuddle right now?”

-“Uhhh-- y-yeah. Sure. Are you okay with this all? I know it can be a lot to take in. You can ask questions or take your time or---”

-He cuts you off by taking your hand in his as he guides you to the bed to cuddle, “I love all of you. Even like this. And until you get better. So just let me hold on to you for a little while.”

-And he lets you curl up into him and is very gentle, but firm and steady with his touch. He doesn’t pull away at your sharp movements when his hands meet your side. He just make sure his touch is gentle and lets you enjoy the closeness.

-As time goes on he might ask a few questions to keep everything comfortable and make sure he’s aware of you and knows how to care for you in most situations. If he doesn’t he’ll ask quietly, and say that he’s willing to go home with you any time you feel overwhelmed.

-Iwaizumi is extremely loyal and careful with you and your needs and only wants the best for you. His loyalty and unwavering commitment to you are what help you eventually feel comfortable enough to either ask for what you need or just get it.

-You feel free to approach and cuddle him without asking or pull away without asking, because he gets you and he loves you and you know that. You taking action to care for yourself won’t change that.

Some Info on Touch Starvation:

I read a lot of touch starvation fics/hc’s when I was really going through it and they all had the touch starved person acting super clingy. Which CAN happen, but that’s usually only at the beginning of the condition only. In my own experience with touch starvation, physical contact actually gave me anxiety and panic attacks, and I became completely touch averse for a very long time before I slowly worked toward a healthier lifestyle.

Touch starvation leads to a lack of oxytocin (which is released when there’s skin on skin contact. It’s a social hormone often referred to as the “love” or “cuddle” hormone) and that can lead a person to feel very stressed and restless, so most touch starved people end up not accepting touches or shying away from touch and don’t really want to ask for it because they think they don’t want it.

A lack of oxytocin also leads to: a higher sensitivity to pain, feelings of isolation, depression, anxiety, and it makes you more prone to develop an eating disorder, clinical depression and/or anxiety, and fibromyalgia .

There are a lot of ways to deal with touch starvation, even if there are not people around you (pets, heavy clothing, warm showers, going to hair/nail salons regularly, etc. can all help get or simulate the contact you need.) Some of this is harder because of Covid, but please take care of yourself if you think you might be touch starved! It’s actually a serious condition and should be treated as such.

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notnctu · 4 years

Text

sugar | s.j ❀

━ listen to: sugar by brockhampton

❀ johnny suh x fem!reader ❀ genre - smut, angst, fluff? ❀ details - fwb!au, kinda unrequited love? who knows lol, sweet love makin ❀ word count - 2k ❀ synopsis - he’s always a call away, ready to love you when you think no one else will. and this will be the one time you ask him to spend the night because johnny suh is the only sweetener you need in your bitterness.

❀ a/n: hello its author doie❀! its based off of the song sugar which is one of my favs ever so i hope u enjoy this smut, rlly this was just me avoiding explicit words lol ps i have never laughed harder in my life when @legendnct (ily hannah) asked me if i was J O R N Y when i told her i was writing this at 4am

The honey dripping, rush of candy goodness, and sugar high of a man --- Johnny Suh. He’s like walking on sunshine, no other cares in the world can harm him, and with a bright happiness that promises anything worth fighting for.

He stands six feet tall of sunflowers that turn up to the clear blue skies and soak up the positive energy needed for growth. Johnny Suh, the man that has sugar addicts craving for a slice of his attention; Johnny Suh is the epitome of goodness and virtue.

And the puzzling, estranged question of why you are his subject of sweetness is beyond any galaxy and he’d never tell a soul his reason behind his many dazed gazes, or if they even had much meaning to them. Johnny Suh is the one boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, but holds your’s at his fingertips.

There have been many countless encounters of long and, some unfortunately short, nights of sleeping with bodies that only add to the list of people you’ve kissed. But to have consistency in that aspect? Quite hesitant, to say the least.

While you are able to tolerate a random one night stand with no necessary remembrance of the individual’s name, to give your vulnerability and consistent attention to one person is asking for too much. A flawed characteristic of yours is falling in love too easily.

The hookups are meaningless, quick fucks to fill the evening and rid the irritable desire of lust. The muscles involved exclude the heart because there is no opportunity to fall for someone if you are only going to part ways right afterwards.

Yet, the one remarkable night with Johnny turned into several nights which led into your current relationship with the glowing sun. The one thing you had wished to steer away from --- a friend with benefits.

There was no metaphorical gun to your head, you weren’t forced to sign a contract, there were no ridiculously restrictive rules. No boundaries to hold you back.

When there is no fencing around the edge of a cliff, is that grounds for people to free fall? Regardless, your lack of self control and demising loneliness had you jumping and falling into Johnny’s comfort. The golden boy is someone hard to come by, and you’re not foolish enough to turn down this once in a lifetime chance to be intimately acquainted.

But as you continued to see him, there was an unconscious decision to stop your other random flings. It felt like you already had someone to fulfill the ache, someone to spend your nights with. If you needed him, he’d be there. So, unknowingly by choice, you made yourself exclusive to him, even though Johnny did not decide to do the same.

That shouldn’t bother you, right? But it does. The worst part is that it’s no one’s fault but your own. Johnny’s harmless actions affect you because your feelings allow them to. As much as you ignore the fact you two are nothing more than friends with benefits, the annoying drumming of your foolish heart reminds you of your denial.

While you’ve always had a bitter palette, the dash of sweetener never hurt anyone. He never hurts anyone, with his best efforts. And the intent should have been made clear, that your nightly hookups are an unhealthy coping mechanism. Too much sugar has your glucose levels derailing and seeking out the one person that lights up your endorphins.

The love for Johnny stems from his warmhearted character. His bubbly, goodwill nature that has him overextending himself for people who take him for granted. An extroverted, head-turning personality that you can’t despise and look away, instead are easily attracted to.

Johnny is kind, he’s thoughtful, yet entirely complex as a human being with a fair share of cloudy days. He is simply someone you want to get to know because he makes the atmosphere a safe space and he reads like an open hardback book.

Everyone has a small crush on him, it would be a complete tyranny of your feelings to deny it. Some infatuations are bigger than others and you’ll shamefully admit that you fit under this group of individuals.

On another lonely night, you wonder if he’d be at your will and call, if he would drop the world to come make you feel better. One moment, you are staring at his contact name and imaging the deep voice answering with his signature greeting. The next, you’re actually hearing his voice on the other end of the receiver and panic settles as it’s too late to cancel the call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” The nickname sends a crown of hearts swirling around your temples. However, he sounds rushed, like he had been in the middle of a strenuous activity.

A nervousness has stammered words falling from your lips, and you’re too incoherent for even your own mind to understand. Johnny chuckles lovingly, and the slight rustling that distorts the background has you imagining that the phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “Collect your thoughts, babe. I’m ready whenever you are.”

A heavy notable sigh erupts into Johnny’s ear, but he doesn’t pull away from the device. He’s all ears, attentive and patiently waiting for you to speak, despite having company on his bed.

“I need you. Can you come over?” If only pride wasn’t so hard to swallow, the question would have flowed much smoother. As if your heart grew hands, it chokes your throat from the inside and you’re preparing yourself for the rejection.

Truthfully, he isn’t obligated to come and there have been rare nights where he declines your offer. But your hope holds onto the slipping strands and the tension of your nerves have fists forming and eyes squeeze shut.

Johnny takes a fast peek at the girl already in his sheets, mindlessly and effortlessly scrolling through her social media. There is a hint of sadness in your voice that he can’t let go and while that’s usually not entirely uncommon, he can tell it took a lot for you to call tonight. So, he finds himself pulling up his sweats and a clean shirt over his head.

“Be there before you know it.” And the clench in your throat relaxes, along with the other parts that had your nails digging moon crescents into your palm and wrinkles forming at your tight creases.

And with a sweet goodbye, he hangs up the call and politely offers to take the girl home as he makes his way over to your place. And you’re dosing yourself in puffs of fruity scents and cleaning up the runny mascara around your under eyes.

With no words exchanged, Johnny knows every way to heal you and dawn a warmth that coats your darkest corners. All you have to do is open the door and let him in. His strength has you lifted from the ground, lips hungry to devour your softness.

A few fumble steps, he reaches your room at ease and gently lays you on your neatly made sheets. Johnny is consistent, no missed beats when it comes to loving you, and without a fail, he always takes a moment to himself to step back and admire your beauty. And your priceless shyness is also an added delight to the scene.

Each article of clothing is discarded and left at different areas of your small room, kisses lining your worst parts to you, but the best parts to him. When you can’t love parts of yourself, Johnny loves them for you and makes you whole.

“Were you in the middle of something?” It did not become aware to you of the possibility that you had interrupted something else, or someone else. And even if Johnny did choose to see you over spending time with them, you have the decent courtesy to make sure he is okay with his decision.

“Nothing important.” You’ll never be able to read him or notice any lies he tells. His smile is enough reassurance, and your question is quickly forgotten when his fingers dive into your wet flower. He uses his thumb to soothe circles around your growing bud, making your whole lower half blossom with trembling ecstasy.

His lips leave soft reminders to love your thighs, your legs, to not overlook their importance: they carry your graciousness into new ventures. Then, he pushes them wide open as he bends your left knee and your right dangles over his sturdy shoulder. The tight grip on your hip is bound to leave marks the next morning, along with the dark love bites he leaves across your canvas.

But his thoughts are focused on the meal ahead, your sugary juices coat the plush of his tongue. He remembers exactly how you like it, where melodic sounds hit the silence in gasps or groans. He suckles, he licks, he kisses your bead in a speed that has his brown locks tangled in between your fingers.

He drinks up more than your wetness, but also the pure image of your fucked out expression and the twists of your reacting body. He wants to surpass your limits, max you out until there isn’t a hint of melancholy in your tone anymore. To remember, to remind, to recall your happiness through heightened pleasure.

At the announcement of your high, he enters your spasming hole with rubber already on and groans at your walls squeezing around him, which halts him in place. However, the dragged movement of his length hits your sweet spot, your orgasm prolongs into a rapturous euphoria and you’re no longer in control of your body.

Johnny’s toned arms hold you close to him. The chemistry in your gazes has your heart pounding faster than his hips. As ruthless as each thrust is and each push moves you an inch upward on the bed, Johnny’s eyes are still kind and loving.

His fluttering kisses are delicate and nurturing. The marks resemble a healing touch that will settle you enough for the next day. For the night, he rids any angst that corrupts your mood by loving you when you think no one else will.

Together, your bodies fall into one another with a bite of elation as he finishes into the protection and your walls hug around him for the last time tonight. Even when your bodies disconnect, the feeling of fullness lingers and you wish to keep this for as long as you can. No more emptiness, not right now.

Perhaps it's the daze of your orgasm, but your hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from making his exit so soon. Selfishly, carelessly, honestly, this will be the one time you ask for him to spend the night. You can’t stand seeing him go, not at this instant. You refuse to spend one more night alone when your heart longs for him to be by your side when you fall asleep.

While the big heart of his beats speechlessly at your request, he lays down to draw you into his toned chest and pampers your forehead with honeyed pecks. Like many times before, no words need to be exchanged for him to know the remedy to your somber.

Possibly, the scene with Johnny caressing your chin and tracing your smile lines is all too perfect for your imperfect reality. And him whispering and wishing a happier narrative for you is more than what you had asked for. Nonetheless, he’s very good at it, mentally noting the fact that he’s probably done the same to other hookups or broken friends.

While you can get used to this form of aftercare, the guards you put up tell you that this is a one time thing. So, you’ll take and indulge all of Johnny’s affection and false love for the next few hours you had left of the night.

Nevertheless, even sweetness can be an overpowering flavor when consumed in tremendous amounts. And you wonder when you’d grow sick of his candied sugar or if you’d just forfeit your health to keep indulging more into your addiction. A sickly saccharine question of your own will be the pit of your downfall: do you love me?

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nctchaotiq · 3 years

Text

Studio | Mark Lee

Characters: Fem y/n x Mark Lee

Theme: smut, fluff

Plot: Mark is recording his rap parts in the studio, but when you arrive it turns out he's done recording so you two just hang out in his studio leading to something a couple can do alone.

(I didn't proofread this one again, but hopefully you enjoy! And I know, Mark is probably vanilla when it comes to everything in a relationship, and this is probably him if his dominant side shows. ENJOY!)

---

You open your eyes after a deep sleep, yawning, and slowly gaining vision. Your sight is filled with sunlight coming from the bedroom window of the apartment that you and Mark share.

Because Mark tends to be extravagant, of course he got the unit on the top floor, containing two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, maid's quarter, and the extensive view of Han River from the huge floor to ceiling windows surrounding the whole apartment. For the average person living in Seoul, hell, this isn't normal, to live here one must be rich, like Mark Lee, your boyfriend of two years. As you appreciate the view from the bedroom, you thought about how Mark was up so early, you grabbed your phone from the glass bedside table and opened it to see a text from Mark, "Hey baby, sorry to leave so early today, I got an urgent call from LSM telling me to drop by SM this morning. See you tonight at the studio? Love you!"

You were sad to see his text knowing that if Lee Soo Man, the head of SM Entertainment, demands for him, Mark won't be able to come home most likely until midnight and you'll be stuck all alone with Auntie Sunny, your stay in house maid, and yours and Mark's dog, Blaze, a black miniature Poodle.

Grabbing your phone and going down the stairs leading to the living area, you sat on the huge, comfy, couch staring at the window with sleepy eyes and limp body. Blaze was there watching you as he wags his tail with excitement when your eyes landed his, "Blazey, baby, come here." You picked up your Poodle and cuddled, until a voice startled you.

"Looking a little tired today Miss y/n? Mark left early today and it looked urgent." It was Auntie Sunny's voice coming from the kitchen, preparing some cereal and fruits for you, "Here eat this y/n." You get up and drop Blaze softly on the couch, but he then follows you to the dining table.

It's always like this when Mark's out, you left with the Poodle and Auntie Sunny, though you have to admit that you get along well with the two considering that Blaze is basically yours and Mark's son, and Auntie Sunny is just a few years older than you which made you two get along quickly, you think it's weird to call him "Auntie" since the gap is just three years, though she looks older than you by ten years, but still you do since it's a huge respect in Korea.

You actually pitied Sunny since she didn't have any parents, never graduated in college, didn't have a degree, she's basically an orphan and when Mark's manager assigned her in his house, after mistakenly being assigned in Taeyong and Doyoung's apartment, she was absolutely happy that she can finally work after months of waiting.

"How have you been these days Auntie?" You ask, while sipping on the milk from the now vanished cereal.

"Well, I've been good though nothing to worry about Miss y/n." She says as a smile curls from her lips.

"Oh." You said after giving her the bowl of cereal, "I almost forgot to ask you to call the driver for tonight, Mark wants me in his studio to visit." You said.

"Not a problem Miss y/n, Sir Mark already told me earlier this morning to call the driver for later." You nod in response.

The night has come and you didn't doll yourself up considering that you're just going to Mark's studio tonight. "A little tinted red lipgloss wouldn't hurt." You said to yourself as you wore the pair of expensive Dior sneakers.

There you were, all set and ready for a night with Mark at his studio. You just wore a lace bra pairing it with a white oversized jacket and a black skirt that stops right above your knee. "Perfect." You say while checking yourself out in the mirror.

The driver was there and you bid your goodbyes to Auntie Sunny, while Blaze was over there whining about your sudden goodbye but being okay after Auntie picked him up.

"Thanks." You say to the driver as he closes the car door and smiles at you, "To Sir Mark's studio right?" You nod and say "Yes, his SM studio please." He said "Okay" and in a while he searched the address and pinned it, "Let's see, is this the right pin Miss? Sorry I forgot about it since the boys have a lot of studios around." He said while you're softly chuckling at his innocence, you looked at the map on the digital screen of the car and nodded once you saw 'SM Entertainment Headquarters' pinned on the map.

Once you arrived the building you said your thanks to the driver and left, the building was packed today, full of fans, you can see a lot of 'Mark stans' as they call it, seeing their handfans with Mark's face, some fans buying Mark's merch, and some just waiting and sitting in the SM Cafe while sipping on their drinks and staring at you, whispering to their friends.

You saw Mark's manager there and he approached you to ask if you'll need an escort knowing that there are many fans, or if you're uncomfortable using the main entrance and said he can pass you through the back entrance. You passed his offer since you just want to stay lowkey.

You and Mark have publicized your relationship a year ago and to be honest some fans were supportive of it, and some were absolutely not. The first month of it was so hard, the fans gave you a hard time, especially those obsessive ones called 'sasaengs' they stalked you and Mark everywhere, followed every move, and they were creepy as hell. You and Mark were advised to stay inside your apartment that time since they were intense and even knew the apartment you and Mark were staying hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The fans that brought you light were the good fans, those supportive of Mark and his decisions, those who were happy for him having a loving girlfriend.

You finally reached your way up, the SM building was complex, it was also difficult to pass through the elevators, everytime you went up to Mark's studio, it would either be him or his manager to fetch you because you'll need a fingerprint scan in order to access the elevators. You walk slowly and search for Mark's studio in the third floor, the level full of studios for producers and artists. You bumped into Taeyong while searching for the room.

"Hey y/n looking for Mark are you?" You nod in response, "Come. He's in PD Blue's studio, not in his, if that's what you're looking for." You stare at him while he talks, feeling dumbfounded that you're looking for Mark's studio. He chuckles lightly, "I was done recording and it's his turn. He's the last one." You followed in Taeyong's footsteps and led you into the studio.

It was silent when you went inside, no people inside, you were almost surprised when someone held your hand from behind, the coldness of his hands made it unrecognizable, but when you turned around to see who it was, it's your boyfriend. Mark Lee.

"Thanks bro." Mark said to Taeyong and he just nodded, gave Mark a bro fist, and left after Mark closed the door.

You stare in Mark's eyes and admire him after not seeing him the first thing you wake up earlier this morning.

"Cat got your tongue?" Mark chuckles.

"I just missed you." You say, "Thank you for coming here." Mark says and you just nod.

The studio that was once noisy and musical is now surrounded by silence and tension. Mark's hands caress your hair, your cheeks, you tiptoe to kiss his left cheek and hug him to show him that you missed him a lot.

"Mark, didn't you miss me?" You stop the hug and stare at him with tears slowly forming in your eyes.

He moved closer to you, and closer, and closer, making you lean on the wall just beside the locked studio door, now, Mark's face is an inch away from yours, you can feel his body heat all around you, and his arms, pushing the wall, locked into you so you won't go anywhere. "Of course I missed you babygirl." He stares at you, his pupils dilating, fully black, fucking full of lust and love for you.

Sexual tension is all around the room and suddenly it's like there's no air conditioner in this studio from how your cleavage is dripping with sweat, your core burning with intense desire for touch. You stare at Mark, admiring his facial structure, you're caressing his jawline, and when you land your eyes on his swollen lips, you bite your lower lip and stare back at his dark pupils.

"Fucker." Mark swears under his breath, he looks on the gap between you two only to find out that he's quickly forming a tent on his sweatpants. He stares at you again and slowly he removes your jacket, you get a bit flustered since you only wore a lace bralette under the oversized jacket.

"Why are you wearing only this under that jacket?" Mark says as he lands his eyes on your boobs, studying the cloth that covered both mounds, noticing it's that Victoria's Secret bra that he bought for you about a week ago. "Well I didn't think it would be too hot in here for me to remove the jacket." You said and smirked at Mark, feeling a little playful you come closer to Mark and whisper something in his ear.

"You know, it was supposed to be for tonight when we get home." And with that Mark's length bulges even more, him controlling himself and simply saying "And what do you want to do tonight when we get home huh?"

"I missed you so much Mark, I want you to fuck me balls deep, until I'm crying and screaming your name, fill me with your cum, Mark." Your words were music to Mark's ears, hearing those hardened his dick. Hearing those made him kiss you like you're his first and last meal of the day, the hunger and passion on his lips made you feel loved and horny more than ever, you started to feel your panties getting dampened and you're starting to crave Mark's touch, you wanted Mark to fuck you right then and there on the studio. You kissed Mark hungrily, returning each of his hungry kisses. Mark's kissing you on your neck messily, while he squeezes your breasts and unclasps your bra, throws them to whichever part of the room, landing on the music mixers.

Mark wouldn't stop sucking on your nipples, giving you the best pleasure ever after weeks of craving his touch. You have to admit, even though Mark was busy you two always had the time to have sex, knowing how you and Mark's libido is high and how you both have a public sex kink, you both can do it wherever and whenever. He touches you where you need him the most, just to have a feel of how wet you are, and god, you're definitely soaked for Mark.

"Such a slut huh, you went here to get fucked by me?

"Yes, fuck me, please Mark, fuck me in the studio."

"Baby not here, I'll fuck you in my studio, come on." And then there was Mark hurrying to cover you up, return your bra and jacket on, and carrying you bridal style, sprinting through the hallways carefully and making loud footsteps and chuckles to find his studio as quick as he can so he can finally fuck you and make you a mess.

Once Mark entered his studio, you're thrown in his large couch just beside the mixers you look at Mark as he hurries to lock the door, shut the curtains completely, and turn on the lights. Once he's all done he jumps on top of you and removes every piece of clothing you have, exposing your hardened nipples and soaking wet core.

Mark starts again by kissing you rough, marking your neck, sucking on your nipples as he gets a feel on how much wetness is dripping from your core. He gets up and you whine as he faces the mirror on the opposite side of the couch, he was focused on removing his shirt, which exposed his toned chest and his six pack.

He stare at you from the mirror and says "Wanna suck?" after cupping his dick. After he said that waves of arousal sparked through your body, you almost felt your legs twitch and your pussy wetter than ever, you know that you need Mark's touch now.

Mark chuckles as he sees you all flustered from his words and your pussy sparkling from the mirror's reflection. "What are you waiting for, come here and beg like a good kitty." he says and you just nod in approval while getting up from the sofa smiling like an idiot.

"Hmm beg first y/n." Mark smiles at you when he found you already kneeling infront of him, mouth ready to take in his length.

"Mark, please I want to suck your cock."

"Mhm, go on baby. Make me feel good."

You start by licking the tip of his cock, palming the balls and playing with it, you can feel Mark's hands slowly gripping your hair, tightening for every lick that you do. You attempt to take on Mark's whole cock, it was always like this, slim, veiny, but juicy as hell, he tastes like mixed sugar and salt and you loved every drop of it.

"Fuck y/n, so good." Mark said while gasping for breath, he bobs your hair carefully on his length but after a few minutes he couldn't resist and just used your mouth as a fucktoy, making himself feel good, and your mouth a big mess from his juices spilling over your chin and neck.

"Get up and lay down." Mark told you as he pointed to the couch. You were a bit worried because the couch was dark red, you could always stain it with your cum, but somehow Mark manages to remove it, he came clean to you one day and told you that he pays the dry cleaner more for the service and that made you feel shy.

Mark chuckled, it seems like he has read your mind when he said "Don't worry babygirl, Mr Dry Cleaner is receiving good bucks." "Now can I see your horny pussy? Will you open up babygirl?" Mark's assuring voice made you calm, he asked you to open your legs and so of course you did, revealing to him the now wetter pussy, heating up for his touch.

For a moment, he plays with your clit, touching, flicking, touching it rhythmically which felt like torture to you, you resist the moans that wants to come out of you.

"Babyy, that's so rude. Please fuck me." You sigh as Mark continues to tease you, you just whimper and could no longer resist your moans so you blurted out one.

"Hmm what a slut" Mark says, and then he suddenly slams a finger inside you.

"Mark Lee, oh fuck." You know Mark likes it when you moan or scream his full name, it brings him joy and power because he is assured that he's giving you so much pleasure. Just as you're about to cum on his fingers, he stops and flips you over, "All fours baby" he loves this position and you do as well just because Mark can fuck you from behind, his hands choking you as he fucks you balls deep and breeds you with his load inisde of you.

Mark wasted no time and lined up his erection on your hole, he rubs the tip on your clit making you moan.

"Fuck me hard Mark Lee." And in that moment Mark thrusts in and out of you in a slow but sexy pace, his eyes looking at you through the mirror on the opposite wall and you're staring at him moaning at the view of both of you fucking.

This is your favorite about Mark's studio, how you could see him fuck you from behind, it turns you on even more.

"God you feel so good and tight around me y/n." He says as his eyes close shut and his thrusts go at a faster pace, choking you even more and pulling your hair for extra support. His length, fully disappeared and inside you, the studio is filled with moans, good thing it's soundproofed with thick walls.

Mark flips you so that he's facing you now.

"Y/n call me daddy now please." He enters your hole again and fastens his pace. You can feel that Mark is nearing his orgasm so quickly. "Daddy I wanna cum!" You scream and moan, his name and 'daddy' comes out of your mouth ocassionally "Daddy Mark, fuck. Harder!"

"Who's fucking you so damn good? Only Mark Lee, right babygirl?" He says in between his breathy and rough moans.

"Yes! Only Mark Lee fucks me this good. Oh god oh daddy."

"I'm gonna cum! Oh shit Mark, you are fucking me so good daddy." You say as your pussy hugs Mark's dick even tighter making it twitch a bit. You finally cum and you look at Mark who's staring at you while you release on his cock, Mark kisses you rough and with passion and continues thrusting in and out of you.

With a few more thrusts, Mark has managed to be close again to his orgasm, "Gonna cum now princess, holy fuck." He rapidly and steadily fucks your hole like a sex addicted maniac.

"Mark come inside me, I want your babies inside me daddy!" You say like an excited wanton slut. "You're so good y/n, fuck here it goes." Mark wasted no time and came inside your pussy, "Fuck it up" is all that he can say while he shoots his load inside you, his cum dripping and overflowing in you, you feeling his warm cum inside your stomach, enjoying it like a cumslut. Indeed you are a cumslut for Mark Lee.

You two take time to catch your breath, messy hair and sticky skin, Mark's side bang is sticking on his forehead.

After some time, you two were finally relaxed, Mark has removed his cock inside you, and both of you hugging each other despite the sticky feeling of your skin from the sweat and cum.

"You took my cock so well again." Mark teases you.

"Lucky you right?" You tease him back and you both chuckle.

"You were wild for me right there baby. You crave for my dick all the time. Slut hehe."

"Of course, I'm wild but only for Mark fucking Lee." You smile to him and for the last time you peck his lips and caress his hair, admiring how beautiful he is and how good he makes you feel.

"Mark you made me feel so good, you're crazy for doing that." You say.

"Yeah, should be the only one making you feel that good though princess."

"Only you! Good daddy." You smirk at Mark as you felt his dick twitch, slightly touching your clit.

"Hmm round two at home?" He smiles and you whine "Let's go home now Mark."

Mark chuckles and gives you a kiss on the forehead, "So eager princess? You haven't had enough have you? You still want this?" And he holds his dick and rubs the tip softly to your clit.

"Tease! Nah but seriously let's go home it's getting late Marky." You told him while trying to stand up to get your clothes.

"Let me dress you up princess."

That's your favorite about Mark, he can fuck you hard and rough, but after all that he takes care of you like a gem, his most prized possession. You look at him in awe and think about how lucky you are for finding Mark.

(a/n: i know it's early for a part two but yall are amazing, so here it is.)

#mark lee #smut #nct smut #imagines #drabbles #scenarios

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