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kalims · 1 year ago

Text

he's a ten but he...

premise. sometimes certain bad habits of theirs make their overall rating just a tad bit lower—besides the fact that they keep doing it.

characters. dorm leaders

content. gender neutral reader

malleus (doesn't have a sense of space)

"look beastie, that flower is a native of ours,"

"I agree mal, but I didn't think you taking up the entirety of my seat will make me see it better,"

he blinks, then shrugs.

like i said, has NO sense of space.

if an average person would make an excuse to constantly be in physical contact with who they admire, then malleus is the complete opposite. well, not entirely but he doesn't even bother to construct an explanation as to why he's literally sat over your seat when you coincidentally get put in a table together.

if you start questioning him about it the most you'll get in a very outright 'because he wanted to.' it's not even one of those sarcastic replies he's 100% serious!

cause he believes there's no use in lying about things to be honest.. to further emphasize that, if he ever acts like he does hold fondness for you that surpasses the platonic meter but doesn't mention it he probably hasn't realized yet.

if he did he'd already walk over and bluntly tell you about it.

(I wish I could be that unbothered.)

lilia thinks it's the cutest thing though. you swear you see flashes of light for a split second from the ceiling but when you look up there's only a suspicious swinging chandelier.

^ totally has his own album full of pictures.

if malleus ever discovers it he won't even be disturbed, probably would ask for a copy 💯

since human lives, and their bodies are so fragile he'd taken it upon himself to protect you from harm. even if it means trailing behind you everywhere way too close for comfort, or standing a bees wing away.

while he is respectful most of the time, he's encouraged if you don't comment. if anything, he seems pleased you dont seem to be bothered! (and it'll get harder to tell him to stop when he's so happy the more you let it happen..)

"child of man, have you slept?"

*starts leaning his body forward, to squint at your eyes.* practically right in front of your face.

"WTF."

not even a warning or anything! but atleast he's concerned?

idia (won't even show up for anything and insists a 'virtual' date is better.')

user: where tf r u??

ghoul666: WDYM? at the dorm?

user: IVE BEEN WAITING HERE FOR 20 MINUTES

unintentionally stood you up 💀

you literally have to tell him that you're waiting for him to arrive at the specified area you discussed where your date would take place but would end up vastly irritated when he questions if you guys even did.

ghoul666: we do??

user: I'm taking my minecraft bed away from urs.

ghoul666: NO PLS

ghoul666: HELLO????

next time you log in minecraft it's probably because he begged you to play, you WILL end up seeing some kind of structure that probably took days to make. that's not even the entire thing cause the inside is entirely decorated to your taste.

in short: he constructed some kind of venue for a wedding.. even changed his skin to wear a tuxedo 😭

though he has sparked your pettiness, hence the ignoring him period. even you have got to admit that it's freaking adorable...

big sign, emphasis on please: Im sorry pls put ur minecraft bed back I can't sleep w/o u and I have to wait entire days for it to turn into morning :(

with what he's built you're sure it's 65% true.

if you do end up forgiving him, few weeks later attempting to schedule another date will only end up in naught.

ghoul666: can we not go there

user: 😐

user: you are testing my patience love

ghoul666: 😓 (he is screeching about the term of endearment part btw KABSJAJSAJA ortho would enter his room very concerned.)

ghoul666: how abt

ghoul666: mimic together? call

user: sighs

user: I'm only agreeing cause I want to spend time with you

queue more screeching from his end that you're completely oblivious to.

the only screeching you're gonna hear though is when you guys do get into call as you play, and it's mainly out of terror when his soul gets sent to the void ascending when the entity pops out of a corner and starts chasing him.

"I GOT THIS. ILL CARRY U THIS IS FINE" *screams again* but really wants to impress you so he pushes through.

unsurprisingly does carry you.

asks to match avatars right after (idia love languange)

vil (frets over you way too much.)

"vil, did you see the chocolate in the freezer?"

"oh, that? I noticed that you've already gone through the ideal number of bars this week so I took it upon myself to make sure you don't go sick on me,"

"I love you but please give it back—"

"I love you too, and no."

disclaimer: he does this for your own good 😜 (average mom excuse.)

looks out for you more than he does for his own dorm residents. everyone is wondering where he ran off to after class, especially since he's the one that scheduled the pomefiore meeting every fridays!

and to think he was the one getting irritated over the more newer first years for being late..

*shows up literally half an hour in*

why you ask? you simply shouldn't have texted him about abandoning your daily walk together through the gardens in favor of catching sleep since you called in sick (you're suspicious if crewel really did go in to check for proof, and not concern.)

vil's really feeling the absolute regret of not checking his phone during classes.. well, he only saw the message which was coincidentally sent like somehow ONE minute after the lecture started and he's only seeing it 59 minutes later.

oh you poor thing!! though the lunch break is short, he has about 5 minutes for a trip to the mirror chamber..

you'd think the 'seen' icon below your message was a weird omen for something you're not sure but it must be doom cause vil is right at the front porch of your crappy dorm. at his own expense?! looking more disheveled than you've seen him before.

if a few stray hairs was disheveled at all. more importantly, he still looked drop dead gorgeous!

you probably looked quite terrible with the blanket draped around your shoulders looking like you just crawled out of your grave, because he looked absolutely mortified at your state.

"oh great sevens.." he looked like he was faint, huffing and fanning himself with his hand. "look at you, why didn't you tell me sooner, darling?"

you blink, swallowing to make your throat less dry but your voice still comes out raspy. "I did, like an hour ago—" without your invitation whatsoever, he steps in. promptly shutting the door behind him (which surprisingly still stands sturdy.)

vil takes a hold of your shoulders before reaching his hands upwards to tilt your face around. "you should have sent earlier," he says. you keep in the comment that you were sleeping during it, and you told him about it during second period so.. "your face is so pale."

you sigh.

"yeah, I just saw. I know, I look hideous right now."

vil frowns at you, stopping to angle your face at him. "don't ever say that. I always find you beautiful even if you are.." he glances at you from face to toe, then back up. "sickly."

"... I feel offended."

"hmph, shush now. let me draw you a bath then I know something that will boost your system."

after much coaxing in his end, you reluctantly take a warm bath in the hopefully hygienic bathroom. true to his word, vil did... concoct something. though it looked pretty the random steam that flew from it was really suspicious.

the residents don't dare to question, except rook of course. who already knew what transpired! :)

epel: 😃 (atleast vil wasn't around.)

"roi du poison~ tell me, tell me! is the trickster well? have you cured them with your love?"

"rook, you have 5 seconds to get out of my face."

rook giggles away.

kalim (thinks money will buy anything, including your forgiveness.)

"here!" there's a suspiciously bright smile on his face as he hands you.. some keys?

you deadpan, jingling it in your hands. it weighs heavy than the average, probably because of the fact that it's literally made of gold. "... kalim what is this?" you emit a sigh, from suspicion and concern.

"a gift!"

"wait why does it say lot 111--"

as you can already, that was an actual, literal house. which you imagine would probably be a lots more grand, and new compared to your old baby ramshackle.

but you do love it despite it's love for falling apart at the most inconvenient of times..

fighting with kalim was rare but it was hard to even argue with him because the notion of disagreements are so bizarre to him that he unintentionally doesn't treat you seriously with your concerns, accidentally downplaying them aaaand now you're upset.

after the ranting to jamil about how you must be busy with a lot, since you haven't even talked to him in the past 2 days. all it took was a side glance to his friend in denial and jamil immediately knew.

"what do you mean they're mad!? D:"

"just.. go apologize, I don't want to get caught up in this."

if his definition of an apology is buying you an entire house...

( ^ it is btw.)

kalim really doesn't mean any harm. he just really wants to sate whatever anger you held for him <- maybe he's overthinking it but it's kalim so he's 99% sure it's his fault! even though it hasn't even been confirmed from your end he'd probably accept it whole heartedly.

he wanted you to talk to him again so badly that he wouldn’t mind showering you with houses... since your living situation doesn't live up to your kindness (sorry ramshackle love u xx)

you know what. he wouldn't even notice he's the reason you're upset at first even though he's been asking around on who put you in that mood. despite himself being the perpetrator but he didn't really know that did he?

the only reason he does is because he assumed you were just because you avoided him like some sort of.. cockroach! (he dislikes those.) and he couldn't take it anymore.

was probably 1 sec away from barging into your dorm which wouldn't take a lot of effort since one ram to the door would probably break it.

bless jamil for jailing all the carpets so kalim doesn't find them.

even if said carpets fling him off when he's riding them.

"kalim, why would you buy a literal house... and you also got a rare address paid--"

"for them! ;D"

"... you do know they'd be more offended by the fact that you'd try to replace that.., ahem. dorm, right?"

"oh... should I buy them a vehicle then?"

you only promise to forgive him once he takes back the keys, and the house entirely...

(grim begged you to keep it, 'house for him apparently.')

azul (keeps trying to offer you discounts thinking it's a good excuse to have you over.)

"I assure you. you'll find no deal better than this."

"I'm not even that hungry for sea food, actually I'm craving some--"

"you're in luck then! ahem, it's 26% off due to a special event for today."

pro tip: keep insisting to eat at other places cause he's gonna keep increasing the discount by 2% until you eventually relent. once, you made him go to the point of 75% off, it's almost hilarious if not for the fact it only worked once.

now he won't go last 50!

ahem. if you look closely you can almost spot tiny cracks accumulating with each denial you respond with, and each increase of his discount. he's grown to be wary about the bullshit 'lucky' promos you just happen to stumble on.

last time you did he practically lost a week's worth of the presumed income he's predicted cause you actually went around and told your first year friends about it... who.. in turn told some, other friends of theirs about it and you could guess.

love must hurt.. and unfortunately it's his wallet wailing.

but azul is not so easily swayed by this! for you have swayed him first! *wink wonk*

but azul has another trick up his sleeve... keeping on roping jade and floyd into it; whom are far too enthusiastic cause finally— something fun to do! someone to bother! not only have you got the most stubborn octopus having frequent suspicious 'deals' but here are his equally suspicious lackeys.

who keeps.. talking about fried octopus..

yeah, you're not sure if preaching about azul’s species is the job they were assigned.

they're fairly easy to point in the right direction anyways. the tweels have always associated you with the word 'fun' so just a little, friendly suggestion from and they were off to their merry way. mortifying every single person you come across with their sudden attachment.

one of their tricks? following you around. and just somehow, every single place you enter is just mysteriously full even though you peered inside and there was like 7 tables empty. what are they hosting? ghosts? spirits?

...

they do look like they've seen some though..

jade rn: "a shame indeed, you must be hungry. why don't we escort you back to monstro lounge?" :)

long story short you can't even reply cause the sleek eel is already guiding you around by the use of his hands on your shoulders. just to make sure you don't stray away from the destination, he says.

"didn't you say that yesterday's promo was like, a one day thing?" you quirk a brow, and you almost fool yourself into thinking he flinched.

azul clears his throat. "well—today is.. the month before you've graced octavinelle with your assistance—"

he praises himself for his quick thinking.

COME ON! it doesn't matter if you're sick of eating stir fried shrimp, or the butter one, or every single dish they serve that includes shrimp! (also do not mention that you ate somewhere else before you just decide to visit his dorm because that establishment just mysteriously got filed a non-legal business report.)

then you've got floyd chasing you around with a fork. which is more terrifying because he's holding it in a notion that would seem like he'd just stab down at you when he catches up with your little goose chase.

it's just.. you're not sure if your stomach could take another bite of the poor food he stabbed into, and is now chasing you around with.

you screech. "JADE PLEASE."

the man shrugs. "it's a free taste."

"AZUL."

"... only on a condition of course."

frankly. it took all the balls he had to actually sputter out the most simplest sentence ever, cause during the time he rehearsed that in front of his mirror it just plagued him with embarrassment but he's getting desperate.

'I'd like to take you out to dinner, somewhere else of course.'

actually, maybe obliterating any possible craving for the food of his lounge just might've been part of his plans to ask you out..?

leona (prevents you from actually being productive via dragging you down to 'nap' every. single. time.)

"I will literally fail if you don't let go of me right now."

"hmph. so what? it's not like failing a grade killed anyone."

"leona just because you've lived through a lot of fails doesn't mean I have to, we're not all rich enough to not finish school."

to which he'd retaliate that all you'd need is to marry him and you'd be set for life.

there is no winning an argument with leona when it comes to his naps. if he states that you're to be next to him as he sleeps, its final. no buts, no retaliations, cause apparently they're all invalid according to him even if you drag him to court.

rhetorically of course, that if its a comical court scene his only statements are; 'well you're wrong', 'who cares', and 'i dont care'. one way or another he's still gonna win you over and now you're fit snugly in his arms, lamenting.

and if crowley chastises you for not doing the errands (via leona's common interference.) the only thing you need to honestly do is to complain to leona about it and suddenly crowley has the kindness to forgive you for your 'laziness' then says something about enjoying your time together?

leona's work no doubt.

you suppose he does has its perks. even if most of it isn't exactly ideal.

if you're being smart then you should give him an ultimatum or something, or bribe him. but... that really has no guarantee to work either cause you're ending up defeated, or just defeated and flustered since he's somehow unconsciously flirty.

at the end of the day you can't really hate him cause the following day you find out he sent an already sleep deprived ruggie to do your work. 'so you can shut your fussing up and let me enjoy you.' he says, and you quote.

it goes something like;

"if i finish my work i'll stick by you all day."

a stready flow of confidence keeps your voice firm as you glower down at the blank-faced leona sat on the grass. he merely tilts his head, raising a brow at you and seemingly pondering from the way his eyes fly to the sky.

you'd think that maybe your plan actually worked but he merely grunts and flops backwards, holding the back of his head with his palms as he laid. and! he ignores you.

...this little greedy man... "why should i care whether or not you finish your work?" he huffs, like the evil, arrogant spawn he is but you can't really defend yourself cause said evil spawn bewitched you so much that you actually still like him.

"because you care about me?"

"...fine," he scowls, releasing a breath you'd mistake for irritation. "then, do you really think i need you to finish your work when i can just keep you right here?"

you sulk. "i'll do anything you want?"

he deadpans as if you said something stupid. "i don't need you to anything else but sit still and be pretty."

...

see what i mean about him eventually winning you over? yeah.

next morning there's a rebellion in savanaclaw about overworked residents and ruggie is the head of them.

"he said that he doesn't need you today." <- ruggie, steering you away.

"really?" <- you, confused

riddle (overthinks TOO HARD.)

“I'm just a little busy.”

“I understand,” riddle says.

“I'm just a little busy.” he understands.

“a little busy.” its just… a small thought…

“I'm just busy.” his mind is a hazard at this point.

for someone as supposedly maintained as riddle—you'd think his mind is as composed as it is organized. like the pens you'd perfectly align in correlation to order of colors, or the neat pile of clothing folded neatly, tucked in some corner in your closet that is farther in since it's used less.

that's just how he is, or at least seems to be. a bundle of organized thoughts, every thought connected to another. a mind too clean to be going on haywire (when he isn't in a particular mood, that is.)

you're just busy. he thinks. you said it yourself, with that agonizingly nice smile that must be sprinkled with some kind of spell from the way it just eradicated all the protests in his throat upon sight. he isn't one to question it, he wants to help but not if you don't ask.

he can only stare with resigned acceptance at your insomnia induced eyes.

but when the curtain of darkness befalls night raven college, even in the comfort of heartslabyul is he still thinking about that thought–and he can’t help but wonder; why exactly are you busy? its not that he’s suddenly hyper aware of your lack of presence since you’ve been attached to the hip the previous week and now you’re just.

…busy…

riddle likes to think of himself as a level-headed, private person. like the boy he raised himself to be and therefore proud of. but its way past 10AM. which is usually the time he sleeps, and let me tell you that he’s never once broke the cycle for years. yet here he is, a frown of frustration present on his face as he wills his mind to sleep.

somehow closing his eyes felt forced, he immediately snapped them open once his mind decides to conjure an image of you even in the darkness his lids offers.

“THIS IS ABSURD.”

and the yell promptly woke up the entire dorm from the ferocity of his scream. (and of course gave them the flashback of their year.)

that night was one of the worst he’s ever had because he woke up with red rimmed eyes and a pounding headache that ensured his bad mood the rest of the day.

everyone noted to steer clear.

and he unknowingly steered clear of yours since you were ‘busy.’

“why are you sulking?” a voice queried, spoken as though they were eating something as they asked. a reprimand rises in his throat, but it all just dies down once his sharp eyes settle on you, slipping into the seat in front of him then raising a brow and the traces of irritation practically evaporates from his eyes.

he feels the need to cough–so he does. “i’m– i’m not.” he clears his throat, avoiding your eyes but still sneaking in glances, something he notes is that you’re still looking everytime he does. (and boring an unimpressed face because he knows you don’t believe him at all.)

guilt rises in his mind, because he feels a slither of annoyance and its the presence of pettiness that bothers him. riddle knows you’re not at fault, just his mind at convincing that you just somehow decided in the span of a day that you might not like him anymore–so he can’t help the bite.

“why are you here?” a glance not intended to look mean.

“i thought you were busy.” he adds.

your brows raise, he spots your teeth holding your lips back from showing your grin and he feels warm. “what?” he hisses defensively, despite you not even having replied to him yet.

he leans backwards, straightening up in his seat when your chin leans forward, resting on your intertwined fingers. you flash him a smile.

“mr. rosehearts, are you perhaps… sulking because i’m busy?”

“no!”

silence.

“no.” he repeats, weaker.

“well,” you continue, beaming. “i heard from ace that you were awake the entire night, and that you kept him awake too. are you alright?”

he sputters. “it wasn’t because of you!”

you snort. “i didn’t even say anything about me.”

so you incline to following riddle around, poking fun at him and still trailing after the seemingly enraged red head because despite his angry protests, demanding you to go away because you’re annoying he keeps glancing back to see if you’ll follow,

so cute…….

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dearieshima · 7 months ago

Text

blue

feat. lovely banter with zayne in the morning

c.w. should I label this as improper use of medicine? 💀, very suggestive, fluffy, MDNI, 1k+ words, fem reader

In the softest hour before dawn, when the town of Linkon lay wrapped in the hush of a blue so tender it felt almost sacred, Zayne sat at the edge of your bed, the early light casting his form in gentle shades of indigo and sapphire. Shadows stretched long as as he carefully buttoned his shirt, his fingers moving with a deliberate rhythm, hoping not to disturb you.

In that quiet intimacy, your arms, weighted with sleep, reached for him. He startled, the tension in his shoulders easing when he turned to find you awake, your eyes carrying the gentleness of lingering dreams. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, his voice a lullaby. His hand slid softly over your hair, and then he gently adjusted the blanket around your frame.

"Mmm, so you're the type of guy to see yourself out after spending the night with a woman?" you murmured, a playful edge laced with drowsiness.

Zayne let out a soft hmph, the sound warm and tinged with a hint of amusement. "I'm the type of man who has a very busy day ahead of him," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

His hands moved to his tie, his fingers maneuvering the silk with years of efficiency. "You," he added, pausing for a moment to look down at his work, "have the luxury of staying in bed, asleep, for another couple of hours."

You raised, the blanket slipping and pooling at your waist and exposing the erotic canvas of your skin in the hues of healing.

Mauve hickies adorned the column of your neck like a necklace. Plum love bites, puffy and tender, marred the smooth swells of your breasts, peeking out from your white lace bra. On your waist, a ghostly imprint of a possessive hand lingered.

Zayne froze, his hands clutching his loosened tie as his jaw tensed. His eyes, however, remained thawed and warm to shift with such frequentness to drink you in.

He blinked rapidly before resuming his motion, loosening the tie around his throat as if it was the reason behind his loss of breath. He inhaled before he gently beckoned you to lay back down and attempted to tuck the covers back over you.

"Don't sit up. You need your sleep," he said softly, his voice slightly deeper than usual. Despite his words, there was a hint of guilt and tenderness in his tone.

You pushed aside the covers and leaned into his shoulder, your fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. “Lemme... Lemme iron your shirt.”

Zayne’s resolve faltered as you pressed closer, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his sleeve. The scent of your love making still lingering on you.

“You expect me to think you can hold an iron when you can barely hold your eyes open," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hand found your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You'll have me hurrying up the process so I could rush you to the ER.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes heavy but earnest. “Can I have some water?”

He sighed but rose without complaint, returning moments later with a glass of cold water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other. Setting the water on the nightstand, he sank back onto the edge of the bed. His gaze swept over you, taking in the exhaustion etched across your features— the faint lines of fatigue, the dark shadows under your eyes. He knew how much your work as a hunter drained you, though he also knew now wasn’t the time for a lecture.

Which, of course, didn’t stop him.

"The first one is ibuprofen for pain relief," his eyes flickered to the bruise blooming on your throat, "and the other one is a multivitamin, which, by the looks of the full capsule in your medicine cabinet, is one you should've been taking daily, prescribed by your doctor."

You pouted, your voice soft. “I just forgot. And they taste weird.”

"You forget a lot of things," he said, his tone half-chiding, half-of-something-else. His fingers cracked open the vitamin capsule, holding the pill up between you. "They're medicine, not candy. They're not supposed to taste delicious."

“What are you—?”

“Making sure you actually take it.” His hand tipped your chin upward, thumb and forefinger firm but careful. His voice dipped into something commanding. “Open.”

Your lips parted, your eyes meeting his as he leaned closer. He placed the pill on your tongue, but the flick of it against his fingertip drew an audible hitch from him.

Zayne froze for a heartbeat, his eyes darkening with something unreadable, something heated. His thumb lingered on your lower lip, tracing its curve as his gaze held yours.

“Swallow,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, his breath brushing against your skin.

You obeyed, your throat working as the pill went down. His eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. His thumb stayed at your lip a moment longer before he pulled back and handed you the water.

“Good girl,” he said softly, the words laced with a low, almost teasing warmth.

You drained the glass in one go, setting it back on the nightstand with a faint clink. Your eyes met his again, the weariness in them replaced with a spark of something else entirely.

“Now I’m really not tired,” you said, your voice breaking the quiet tension in the room.

Zayne leaned back, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He was aware of the drowsiness that was about to settle in soon, thanks to the ingredient in the pills named Diphenhydramine.

"It'll hit you soon," he said. "You'll be dozing off before you know it."

Zayne pulled the covers up to your chin, his fingers gently tucking the fabric around you. He took a moment to admire the sight of you, wrapped up in your nest of warmth, the faint warm light of the early morning seeping through the windows, clearing the chillness of the blue. He should have left a while ago.

"Rest," he murmured. His hand lingered, squeezing your shoulder gently before pulling away. "I have to go."

"Wait," you said, tugging lightly on his sleeve. "Have a nice day at work."

"I will."

"And don’t eat too many sweets. Remember, your dentist said sugar-free," you added, smiling softly.

"I’m sure one pastry won’t hurt," he teased.

"Your lunch is in the fridge... don’t forget it," you murmured through a yawn. Zayne has been deliberately leaving his lunch behind for weeks now, a thin excuse for you to stop by later and see you again.

"I won’t," he lied.

Your breathing slowed, the weight of sleep pulling you under.

Zayne feigned a glance at his watch --and God, he really should've left by now-- pretending he had important duties that needed tending to, but secretly reveled in the extra few minutes of banter with you.

Then it happened.

"I love you," you whispered, the words tumbling out mid-yawn, the 'you' stretching softly as your eyelids drifted shut. It was the first time you’d said it, the confession slipping free without a second thought.

He gently placed his hand on your head, his fingers carding through your hair in a soothing manner as he watched your eyes flutter closed.

Zayne froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. For a moment, he just stood there, watching you as you surrendered to sleep. It's the medication talking, he silently told himself, even as the words echoed in his mind, sending a warmth spreading through his veins. If Zayne used his evol, he thinks he would spew out warm water.

Zayne watched as your breathing slowed into the soft, even rhythm of sleep, your face relaxed and peaceful. He lingered for a few more seconds, his gaze tracing the lines of your face, committing them to memory. He bent down to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too. I'll see you in the afternoon."

As cautiously as possible, Zayne removed his hand from your head, the touch light as he slowly made his way to the door.

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celestiamour · 6 months ago

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Ever since squid game s1&s2 wi hajoon character😩 I even saw a clip of his back 💀ok im getting side tracked😭so may I please request a smut with junho x fem reader where he’s stressed trying to find his brother but his wife or gf is there for him to keep him calm. It could literally be any plot😭 just need Jun Ho

ft. hwang jun-ho x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ eating you out after a long stressful day┊0.7k words

setting: season 1, before the 33rd games contains: smut!! dom jun-ho & sub reader┊oral fixation, receiving oral, overstimulation, mentioned nipple play & marking, established relationship

➤ author's note: i need this so bad, the new year depression is hitting and i’m so lonely

being a police detective is insanely stressful on levels he couldn’t even begin to explain, even more so when it’s a case related to him personally. ever since his brother went missing, he’s been relentless in his pursuit to find him, searching for even the tiniest clues that may help push the dead end he’s been stuck at for so long. he comes back a little bit later each night with less and less energy, crashing out on the couch and fall asleep to stop the raging headache from considering all of the possible things that could have happened.

he still makes an effort to be there for you though, taking time out of his busy schedule to take you out on at least one date per week, not just to remind you that he loves you even with how busy he is, but for him to relax too. there’s nothing better than being comfortable and able to turn off the gears constantly turning in his brain in the company of someone he adores so much, and returning home to rest in your warm embrace is akin to heaven for his troubled mind.

sometimes he likes to shut his brain down entirely when having sex with you and just thoughtlessly do his own thing. it’s almost therapeutic for him, even though you’re the victim of his ministrations and find your body suffering from too much pleasure (if it’s even a thing, he draws a thin line that makes you wonder).

like he is right now, hands spreading the inside of your thighs with a tight grip to prevent them from closing and his mouth laser-focused on what’s in between.

“i-it’s too much,” you whined, trying to push him away for a second of relief yet making no real attempt to do so, limbs slacking after a mere second of effort. perspiration had covered your skin in a thin sheen, shining under the light of the ceiling fixture and drawing attention to his previous actions: marks from constant sucking and biting into your soft flesh all over your neck and chest area.

he simply hummed in response, the vibrations sending pleasure straight to your clit and making your whimper, not really listening to you. there weren’t really any thoughts in his head at the moment, only trying to pull another orgasm from your spent body to taste more of your addicting nectar and listen to your cries that sounded like the song of an angel.

you originally wanted to pay him attention before yourself, taking the edge off the perpetual stress he was going through with his climax, yet this was all he wanted to do, sucking on your clit like it was candy until the neighbors knew his name. there was no real skill or technique behind his movements, just pure unadulterated passion and lust as he pulled you even closer than you thought possible with an increased pace of fucking you with his tongue.

it felt so suffocatingly hot, taking another breath only to let out another pitched moan in a vicious cycle. you didn’t know where to put your hands, alternating from the bedsheets to your oversized t-shirt stolen from his before finally tangling your fingers in his dark locks and tugging which caused him to groan in response. he finally opened his eyes and met your half-lidded ones, but he did not stop his assault on your engorged pearl. truthfully, the sight of you as such a blissed-out mess was almost enough to make him cum untouched, and he’s not even certain if he didn’t.

the familiar feeling of an orgasm washes over you, the intensity of it being your third tonight making your back arch off the mattress and your toes curl with a pitiful gasp. still, jun-ho’s lips stayed latched onto your abused pussy, lapping up all of your arousal like a damn dog until you were all cleaned up with nothing but his spit slicking your folds. you whimpered when he finally let go only to part your swollen hypersensitive cunt with his finger, admiring how it quivered and clenched around nothing begging for more.

it was going to be a long night, but it’s worth it if he gets the satisfaction of carrying you out of bed the next day due to your shaking legs and he finally wakes up with a clear head for once.

#📜. her works #hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho smut #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game smut

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julymusings · 7 months ago

Note

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...pt3 is just a sex dream ab cowboy!jason so. also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded.

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp.

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field.

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength has you feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

love when u leave messages and feedback it feeds my praise kink

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

#jason todd #red hood #batman #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #nightwing #dick grayson #jason todd x you #batfamily #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #dc robin #robin #bruce wayne

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anbaisai · 2 days ago

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idol au 2.0 jamimayu starts with jamil wondering who is this pathetic wet cat here to waste his time (more AU details under the cut)

Mayu: Member of an up-and-coming fresh new girl group, voluntold to be the rapper because nobody volunteered and management decided to just Pick Someone 💀 (they also refused to let her decline)

Jamil: Solo artist under the same management company. Talented singer, rapper, and dancer. Left home to pursue his career because he wasn’t happy with the life his parents had planned for him. Refused to join any group because he either makes it on his own, or not at all. Writes & produces his own songs and is extremely perfectionistic. Later on has help assigned to him by management, but is known to be difficult to work with because of his strict standards. On a bit of a break right now.

Has a Vil-Neige like situation with Kalim, who is also from the same company but more popular and well-liked despite being less skilled than him and Jamil hates it. (Also because Kalim’s kind of a nepo baby that the company often allocates more resources to.)

Overall premise

Mayu gets voluntold to be the rapper but, unfortunately, has very little experience and urgently needs to be trained before her group releases more music.

Management calls on Jamil to assign him as Mayu’s mentor (to humble him), which he very much declines immediately, but some way or another they pressure him into doing it. Probably holds something in his contract over his head. To say he's displeased would be an understatement.

Not the best impression of each other at their first meeting. Mayu very awkwardly politely bows to her senpai while Jamil lifts his sunglasses to stare/half glare at her before responding, thinking she looks like such a pathetic wet cat. Mayu thinks this guy absolutely hates that he needs to help her (she would be correct). Management refuses to pick someone else for the job so they're essentially stuck together.

Jamil deliberately puts her through Merciless Training From Hell as an attempt to pressure her so hard that she asks for someone else or gives up, because he genuinely didn't want this job, he has other better stuff to do.

Somehow, however, she manages to keep up with his demands and does all the assigned homework, and is overall very diligent and hardworking. She's trying so hard under the assumption that he’s being tough on her for her own sake, but in reality he uh... literally just hates “babysitting duty" 💀

After a while he feels kinda guilty about it. And maybe a teensy bit impressed that she’s been keeping up with demands. (And later unfortunately just a bit proud to watch her improve under his instruction). But he’s too prideful to back down now so he just… keeps doing the same thing.

Mayu has like a mini sulking episode at some point bc she thinks it’s her problem that she's slow and can't do everything he asks and he’s like 🧍‍♂️

He ends up making her something as like "reward for the hard work" (bro feels bad but can't admit it) and she sniffles and says “This is surprisingly good, I didn’t know you could cook” to which he responds "What, you thought I had no life skills just because I’m an idol?"

The mentorship continues, but interspersed between training sessions are more moments where he’s actually… kinda nice to her and gives encouraging feedback, and also some treats here and there. It’s actually kind of nice to work with each other now. Jamil Viper, have you gotten soft 🤨

#my art #twisted wonderland #twst #jamil viper #oc #twst oc #shiokawa mayu #jamimayu #idol au #the text is the basic gist of it but i have more snippets up my sleeve #more doodle ideas for this au in the notes/drafts so #pray i have the will to get to them 😭#this AU is hardmode for jamil bc every time hes nice shes like #am i in trouble whats going on #also im not into alnst but someone told me my idol jamil design looks very hyuna #what a coincidence...

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wintaerbaer · 1 year ago

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bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.”

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso.

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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araybiaaa · 2 months ago

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❝ home. ❞ ‎ annie x smoke

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… domestic fluff, soft!smoke, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, unprotected!sex, penetrative!sex, fluff, romance, handjobs, quiet sex, praising, dirty talk, brief use of the n-word. black!writer

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… smoke comes home to annie after a business trip.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… wrote another one because i think writing for them is my niche lol. this is set before the movie but i incorporated some of the things that were in the movie (i only watched the movie once so far so i can’t remember if they said which twin was older but in this fic i made it smoke.) i didn’t go into any of the hoodoo practice because i’m not too educated on it. but what i did include was from google 💀 again, thanks for all of the love on all of the other fics i posted! i’m always so apprehensive about my writing sometimes especially if i get writers block. but anyway thanks for the constant support guys 🥺! oh this is very much inspired by someone who made a post that said annie cleanses smoke whenever he comes home and they spend the rest of the night making passionate love. (i tried looking for the post but i couldn’t find it but if anyone finds it lmk!) and as always likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

smoke’s deep suspire of impatience accompanied with him looking down at the elgin watch that’s donned around his wrist has stack rolling his eyes at his brother.

“that’s your third time lookin’ down at your watch.” he acknowledges with an impish smirk as he brings the bottle of beer up to his mouth and takes a large swig. “you must got somewhere better to be?” he questions in a tease, wincing only slight at the potent taste that burned in the back of his throat.

smoke nods cursorily, “yeah, nigga i do. it’s gettin’ late and annie’s waitin’ for me.” he accents, already picturing his wife wide awake reading in bed instead of asleep like she should be. despite wearing the mojo bag that she created for him for his added protection; she still worried about him and would always be laid awake in bed waiting for his return. her worry grew heavier whenever he was with stack because she knew that even with smoke being older by a few spare minutes — he always found himself being persuaded into his younger brother’s impulsive ideas.

like tonight, instead of going out for drinks at the juke joint like stack claimed they were going to be doing, they found themselves at a burlesque house instead. stack had found amusement in looking at the women walking around bare dressed or in skirts that stopped just at their thighs, leaving absolutely nothing left for the imagination. the room was clouded with the stench of stale cigarette smoke. it was filled to the brim with men who just like his brother were indulging and salivating at the sight of the promiscuous women as they prowled around in their garters, corsets and dresses.

but smoke seemed to be the only man here that showed no interest in the women before him. instead of attraction he felt irritation; at himself for being talked into another one of stack’s ridiculous ideas and at the fact that the room was so crowded that perspiration stuck against his skin and was now drenching through the three-piece suit that he’d just bought.

stack nudged his elbow against smoke’s, clicking his teeth in a tsk-ing reprimand. “man we’re supposed to be celebratin’!” he enthused, his smirk curling deeper as he leaned in closer to (attempt to) whisper. “all the shit we just looted from that bank? we got enough money to open our own fuckin’ whorehouse and then some!”

smoke hurriedly looked around, wary of any bypassing eavesdroppers. the pungent smell of beer is fresh of stack’s breath, his eyes are red and glossy and smoke could see his cognition slowly dissipating with each swallow of beer that he took.

today’s job had been successful. through thorough days of planning, they’d managed to raid a bank a few towns over with nothing but their revolvers and masks for their discretion. it only took about five minutes for them load the $1,000 into their bags and make a stealth exit without any hassle. still on an adrenaline high, stack suggested that they go out to commentate their win. and smoke should’ve known that it wouldn’t just be a quiet night of drinking like it was supposed to be.

“we ain’t openin’ a damn whorehouse, stack. ain’t no real money in that.” smoke rebuttals, giving him an exasperated look. “and quiet your drunk ass down some!”

stack rolls his eyes, undaunted by his brother’s forewarning as he reached over and snagged the now lukewarm bottle of beer that smoke had been babysitting all night. “you know there’s money in it. you just don’t wanna do it ‘cause you know annie will skin your black ass alive!” he teases, his eyes distractedly avert towards the short woman that was approaching them.

stack whistles coquettishly at the sight of her; taking in the sight of the short length dress that accentuated her curvaceous physique. she gives them both a beguiled smile, her eyes curiously flint between the both of them in amusement like she’s trying to decide who she wants to hither to first — but smoke’s blatant expression of disinterest deters her and has her scurrying over to stack instead, gently nudging at his shoulders to make room so that she’s able to slide herself down onto his lap.

stack barred an arm around her waist while the other loosely held onto his beer. the woman’s piqued curiosity has her pointing a finger between them and inquiring, “y’all twins?”

smoke shakes his head, resisting the urge of rolling his eyes at the thickness of her question. “naw. we cousins,” he murmurs sarcastically, taking another look at the time to see that it was rolling dangerously close towards midnight already.

“ignore him darlin’,” stack avers, kicking his foot against smoke’s beneath the table as he gave him a pointed look at his dismissive attitude. “he’s just ready to get back home to his wife.”

“oh!” the woman exclaims in surprise, lowering her eyes to his hand. “you married?” smoke’s thumb brushes over the band of his ring, an instinctual gesture that’s become a habit of his whenever he thinks of annie.

he nods, pushing his chair back as he clambered to his feet. “yeah. come on stack, it’s late and we still got an hour drive back to town.”

“you go,” stack suggested with a shrug, leaning forward to bury his face in the woman’s neck as he pressed wet kisses against her skin. “i’m good right here,” he murmurs as the woman giggles and leaned closer into stack’s touch.

“if i leave you that means i gotta drive all the way back here tomorrow to come get you.”

“don’t worry, i’ll keep him safe.” the woman coos, though smoke doesn’t heed her attempted reassurance. he cut his eyes at her in a glowered expression; one that she easily interprets because she purses her mouth close and shifts against stack.

“i’m not leavin’ you.” smoke laments, folding his arms against his chest. “now we can keep standin’ here and you can tell annie why we got back so late or you can get your ass up and follow me outside to the car,” he shrugs defiantly as he knows the inevitable outcome of the bargain.

stack lifts his head from its nestled perch and sighs deeply. he imprints a kiss against the woman’s cheek before begrudgingly telling her to get up. her lips moue but she nods and stands to her feet; shifting her eyes confusedly between the two brothers. stack snatches his beer off of the table as tips back another swig before he’s petulantly brushing past smoke towards the door.

…

“i’m just sayin’ it was a cheap shot usin’ annie to threaten me!” stack complains from his perch in the passenger’s seat. “all’s i wanted to do was have a little bit of fun to celebrate.”

“you did enough celebratin’ tonight.” smoke countered, giving his brother a wayward look. his pursed lips pucker around the cigarette that’s hanging between his mouth and he inhales softly, holding the smoke in his mouth before blowing it into the air. “besides, you think mary would appreciate you steppin’ out on her like that?” smoke wasn’t close to her, but he cherished the beliefs of being faithful in relationships no matter what the extent of it was.

stack brushes a hand dismissively at him, though the tense pull of his jaw let’s smoke know that the mention of her had affected him more than he intended for it to. “i ain’t with mary no more. i can do whatever i want with whoever i want.” he mumbles, suddenly retreating at the mention of his ex girlfriend.

smoke takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground. he averts his eyes between the road and the petulant like frown pulled on his brother’s face. he knows that despite his brother’s feigned insouciance that he still cared about mary, but his stubbornness had prevented him from continuing their relationship.

“what should we do then?” stack asks. his question and subvert of the topic clefts through his brief moment of silence and as smoke furrowing a confused brow at him. “with the money,” he clarifies, recalling back on their earlier conversation.

he’s deflecting to avoid talking about mary anymore. and smoke decides to concede to his brother’s unasked request. smoke considers stack’s question before responding with a gestured shrug of his shoulders. “aside from a brothel, what else could bring in a lot of money?”

“a juke joint.” stack suggests, half drunk and half in a dazed stupor as the three beers that he’d chugged down earlier were now catching up to him. his head’s craned back in an uncomfortable position and his eyes are fluttering close as he fought against his exhaustion.

smoke considers it with a nod. “we gotta have entertainment and food though. and more money to pay for all that. the money we got right now ain’t enough.”

“we can loot more banks. and i heard you can get a lot from trains with the cargo they bring in,” he doesn’t know if stack’s serious, he’s drunk and a few blinks away from being completely conked out. regardless, it was a good idea. but there was one thing that had him reluctant on any further postulation.

“annie’ll kick my ass if she finds out i’m robbin’ banks and trains.” she wasn’t too keen on their lifestyle and would usually always have to cleanse him of his debauchery every time he came back home. he can only imagine her reaction if she found out that stack was suggesting them getting further involve in such corruption.

stack chuckles, shaking his head. “you one whipped ass nigga.”

…

just as predicted, annie’s wide awake when he arrives home. smoke retracts the keys from the car’s ignition as he pulls into the grass, looking through the bedroom window where he sees annie sprawled out across the bed with a book tucked against her thighs. he reaches over and nudges stack against his knees shaking him awake. “get up. we here.”

stack grouses as he stirs awake.

smoke clambers out of the car, tucking his keys into his pockets as he makes his way towards the front door. he hears the creak of the passenger door being pulled open and the sound of stack’s shoes walking on the pebbled ground as he follows behind him.

“elijah?” annie beckons upon their entry. he barely passed over the threshold before she alerts, almost like a sixth sense of knowing his presence.

he pushes the door further open as stack groggily saunters in behind him. “yeah, baby, it’s me.” they stand by the door waiting for her approach. he hears the soft patter of footsteps in her ascending gait. annie rounds the corner moments later, dressed comfortably in her nightgown and with her hair tied around in fabric.

“what mischief y’all get into tonight?” she questions, walking over to her shelf that was full of her hoodoo concoctions; oils, candles and herbs that she kept in stock.

smoke and stack share a look at her raised brow. “nothin’ too bad.” smoke ripostes, hearing the annie’s soft chuckle of disbelief.

she grabs a small bottle of her herbal mixture of sage, cedar, rosemary, lavender, and rue; and dispenses some of it in a white sage leaf and rolls it tightly until it’s in a bundle. “i can smell the negativity brewin’ off both you,” she lights the bundle and the potent smell of the burning herbs immediately invades their sinuses. she walks over to them and waves the sage stick over their bodies, reciting a hoodoo conjuring prayer as she continues her cleansing. she looks up and meets smoke’s gaze, shaking her head though there’s a small smile tugging at her lips.

“alright.” she says after she stubs out the fire and sets the bundle and the bottle of herbs back onto their respective place on her shelf. “y’all hungry? i can warm up the leftovers.”

“naw. i’m too tired to eat.” stack declines, his gait staggers as he makes his way into the living room. he falls forward haphazardly on the couch; groaning as his face squishes against the soft cushions.

“what about you, baby?” annie walks over to where he’s standing. smoke’s hands round to her waist; digging into the soft flesh before he’s gently tugging her closer to him. the small smile returns on annie’s face as she closes the distance between them. she wounds her arms around his neck — feeling the soft wisps of his breath brushing against her cheeks as smoke leaned in for a kiss.

“naw, i’m hungry for somethin’ else,” he murmurs, brushing his mouth against hers in a feverish kiss. it’s only been two days since he’s last seen her, but smoke always felt insatiable when it came to annie.

she giggles against his mouth, pushing gently at his shoulders before chancing a cautious look over at stack. “behave yourself, elijah. we got a guest.” she reprimands, but her words fall absentminded to his ears because the sight of her biting her lip distracts him completely.

she presses one last kiss against his mouth — teasing as she nips and sucks on his bottom until it swells. smoke groans softly, lowering his hands to her ass as he gives it a hard squeeze. he pulls her body closer to his; chafing his dick that was already swelling in his growing arousal against her thigh. he grinds against her torturously slow, allowing her to feel the outline of him as he prodded her thickly through his pants. she whimpers breathily at the friction, hurriedly releasing his swollen lip with a pop before looking over at stack’s sleeping figure again.

“come on to bed,” she murmurs, reaching for his hand before she’s turning around and retreating down the hallway to their bedroom.

he closes the door with his foot while his hands were preoccupied touching every inch of her body. they breathe softly; swallowing each other’s moan as they maneuvered through the room towards the bed. “missed you so fuckin’ much,” he murmurs, his greedy hands are groping her through her nightgown; he glides his fingers up the meat of her thighs and buried them between her molten crux — feeling the moistened stickiness of her arousal through the flimsy fabric.

he slides his thumb against her and circled at her clothed clit; rubbing deftly and with the right amount of friction to have her moaning loudly in response.

smoke slides his mouth over hers and silences her with a feverish kiss. “gotta be quiet, baby.” he says, though he feels himself slipping through his own resolve.

he slides through and against her slit; feeling the moisture thicken messily against his finger. annie makes a small noise of indignation, her chest heaves as she murmurs an pointed, “elijah!” that conveys her impatience at his continued edging.

he removes his finger from between her thighs and instead grabs the edges of her waistband and tugs them over her hips. the ruined underwear fall to the ground with a soft thud; pooling around her ankles. she absentmindedly kicked them aside then with hurried fingers, began to tug at his clothing.

they work in a frantic tandem; their mouths still heavy and slick against each other’s as they kissed — only momentarily breaking apart to shrug his shirt off of his body and remove his gun and its holster from around his waist. he shivers and groans when annie’s fingers slide down the chisel of muscles on his abs — stopping just before she reaches the waistband of his pants. she bites her lip at the sight of him and gives him this seductive look that has smoke’s dick twitching.

“fuck, i can’t wait to be inside of you.”

she smirks again. the expression’s caught between sexy and mischievous, because she knows the affect she has on him — how weak willed and submissive his body is when it comes to her. she shoves at his pants until they’re over his hips and in the same forgotten pile as his other articles of clothing and her underwear. he’s standing naked in front of her; his dick’s curled and painfully erect — throbbing and leaking rivulets of precum from the tip. he pulls her in for another kiss that’s filthier than the last — all teeth and their tongues sliding wetly in each other’s mouths.

annie reaches down and grabs ahold of his dick. her nimble fingers wrap around him and firms a gentle grip; the feeling of her fingers alone already had him swelling against her hand. she revels at the feeling of him — at the grunts and expletives that falls off of his lips as she pressed her finger against the engorged tip of his dick and squeezed softly until more milky spurts of precum spilled out of him, at the reflexive twitches she feels brushing against her palm when she oscillates her hand from base-to-tip, in one torturously slow drag. “fuck, annie.” he drawls out another stifled moan.

he bites on his lip, feeling his head loll back in pleasure as she continued to jerk him off. his brows furrow deeper, breathing hitches and dick lurches in her hand in forewarning. annie slides her hand against him; lubricating him with him precum and hastened the movements of her hands. his expression shifts as his jaw slacks and teeth dig deeper into his lip. he feels the thickness of his orgasm spill out of him like a tidal wave — the buildup of pressure releases from him all at once and skeets messily on annie’s hand.

his dick twitches again as her fingers brushed against his balls, holding him through his release. he shudders, looking down at her through the haziness of his vision. “i’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow. gonna make you feel every inch of it.” he whispers filthily, barely fully recovered from his first orgasm but his dick was already swelling in anticipation at the thought of being inside her.

“take this off.” his hands tug at her nightgown as she raises her arms in the air and allowed him to remove the last barrier of clothing until she’s completely nude. “i wanna see every inch of you.” his eyes wandered appreciatively over her body — at the thickness of her, at the swelled cupping of her breast and the coiled bush of hair on her pussy, the stretch marks drawn across her hips and the cellulite on her ass and thighs — every inch of her was sculpted to perfection and he couldn’t wait to ravish her.

“so fuckin’ pretty and perfect.” he praises, his hands find her hips again as he draws her in for a slow kiss. their lips brush softly, teasing and nipping, relishing in the salty taste of each other. then it’s a slip of tongue — gliding over the cupping over her lower lip, begging for further entry. smoke continues to maneuver them backwards until the back of annie’s leg hits the bed. he holds a hand around her back, steadying her in his grip before gently easing her onto the mattress.

smoke follows her in the maneuver, his body hovers over hers as their mouths continued their ravenous feat. annie whimpers at the slightest tease of his dick brushing against her slit. “‘lijah,” she murmurs, breath caught in a hitch as she lifted her hips and chased after the friction.

“i got you, baby.” smoke avows, nudging her legs apart with his knees as he seats himself between her. he teases his forefinger against her cunt again, feeling the slickness gathered along her slippery folds. “this all for me?” he murmurs, breath brushing against her lips as he looked down at her awed at her dazed expression.

his scissors his fingers and uses her slick to fondle her clit. he quietly shushes her when she inadvertently yelps and squeezes around his fingers at the contact. “quiet, baby.” he reminds her and she purses her lips and twists her fingers so tightly around the sheets that it burns. he drags his finger from her vulva to her opening, marveling in the raunchy sounds of her slick dragging against her walls.

annie’s breathing quickens, the skin between her brows crease and her face furrows in pleasure. tension tugs in her belly, warmth spreads from her ears to her toes and she can feel her pussy gaping so tight around his fingers that it hurts. “s-smoke!” she whimpers shakily, tittering so close to the point of delirium.

“i feel it. let it go, annie. c’mon.” he coos, lowering his eyes to the slick that’s covering his hands from his fingers to knuckles.

it’s a beautiful mess between her thighs and he spreads her legs further to watch as he curls his fingers deeper, sliding and stretching until he’s knuckles deep into her g-spot. “elijah!” any restraint she attempted to maintain suddenly falls short; because she feels her orgasm pulling out of her almost immediately.

she spasms and writhes beneath him, tears fall wetly against her cheeks as she she clenches around the thickness of his fingers. “that’s it. fuck you look so pretty like this,” he slips his fingers out and used his thumb to lift her clitoris lip and teased the padding of his fingers against her sensitive nub. she whimpers again as she arched her hips and dragged her clit against his wet fingers. it’s a bit slippery and messy through his movements, but he still manages to implement enough friction to where she’s already feeling her second orgasm pulling through her body again.

“f-ffuck elijah.” her words are shaky and a few octaves shy of a whisper. she squeezes her eyes shut as she continued to thrust against his fingers. her chest constricts, pussy throbs achingly at his unrelenting onslaught. she cums again and this one it feels bigger than the first with watery liquid spilling out of her. she flutters her eyes open, blinking through the wetness that clung to her lashes and the bleariness that hindered her vision.

“you okay?” he questions, attentive in his aftercare as he gauged a look down at her.

she nods numbly, still dazed from the pleasure. smoke leans down and kisses her, allowing the taste of her arousal that he licked clean off of his fingers, to pass between their tongues. annie moans at the taste; feeling herself become wet at the filthiness of their intimacy.

smoke reached between his thighs and grabbed ahold of his dick; giving himself a few limp strokes until he’s fully rigid. he aligns himself at her entrance but instead of slipping inside of her, he teases himself against her — grinding his dick against her slicked folds.

he moans at the feeling of her cunt lapping repeatedly over his dick and how she leaves a sticky trail of residue of her arousal in her wake. “elijahhh!” she breathes ruggedly through a high whine, her eyes fluttering shut and her back bows at the delicious skin-to-skin contact. he rubbed the head of his dick against her swollen clitoris, dragging himself through her labia and against her entrance.

“i know.” he grunts in agreement. “just gettin’ you ready for me, baby.” smoke swipes his cockhead between her wet pussy lips and spams, choking on a guttural groan.

“yeah?” he asks as he rolled his hips against hers and nudged his dick against her clit again. her pussy throbs achingly, desperate to feel him inside of her. she nods vigorously, feeling tears prickle in her eyes again.

“yes.” she avers, hurried. desperate.

smoke nods at her plea and adjusts himself so that he’s angled at her entrance. he levels his pelvis and shifts his perched position between her thighs before slowly rolling his hips forward. annie’s eyes roll to the back of her head, her mouth slacks agape as she flutters tightly around his dick; still sensitive and swollen from her previous two orgasms.

smoke lowered his eyes and bit his lip as he watched his slow penetration — he’s mesmerized by the visual of how she stretches around the shape of him. she’s so wet that he slides in without any resistance. he rolls his hips against hers and slides through her slick — stuffing her full of his dick inch by inch. she trembles though her body easily adjusts to his intrusion. the pain is sharp but immediately dulls into unreciprocated pleasure that has her gripping at the sheets for support again.

smoke slides his hand over her pelvic bone and presses firmly against to hold her in place. then, in an agonizingly slow pace he’s thrusting himself inside of her again — choking on another groan as her pussy nearly suctions him in. he marvels at the sight of how she takes all eight inches of him without hesitation, at how full he feels being inside of her. he slides his hand over her stomach again; feeling the swell of his dick as it sits there buried deeply past her cervix. “you feel that?” he murmurs, pushing deeper until he’s buried so deeply that he’s pressed flush up against her thighs. “you take me so good, baby.” he praises, narrowing his eyes where he sees the bulge of his dick curved inside of her.

his dick twitches at the sight.

it always felt like annie’s body was made for his with how easily she accommodates to the stretch of him. she takes him without hesitation, filling herself full of his dick until she’s biting back another whimper. smoke holds himself there, pressing his hand deeper as he begins to slowly withdraw. “nnnggh,” she makes an incoherent noise in response, feeling the torturous drag of him sliding against her walls. “smoke!” he brushes another kiss against her lips, shaking through his own reprieve.

“shhh. it’s okay, i got you. fuck annie. so fuckin’ tight around my dick.” he mewls through clenched teeth, feeling the flutter of her chasing after his dick through his retraction. he pulls out halfway before he’s hurriedly brimming her to the hilt again and pressing down on her stomach. it’s such a lewd but pretty sight; his dick slipping out and reclaiming her in and out, in and out with the juices of her arousal drenching him every time he withdraws from the tightness of her swollen pussy. “been thinkin’ about this pussy for days. missed bein’ inside you. fuck, baby.”

she grinds into him meeting him thrust-for-thrusts, arching her hips off of the mattress as much as she could beneath smoke’s firm grip on her. it’s overwhelming — the feeling of him like this; in her belly, curved and brushing against her so perfectly that it has her eyes lining with tears again. he alters his pacing, now fucking himself into her with a hastened vigor.

“you take this dick like you made for it.” he says, rolling his hips against hers. their slick skin ricochets with every upthrust of his hips that meets hers, it’s suave and precise enough so that he’s perfectly hitting her hilt with every stroke. annie drew in a quick breath, her throat grows heavy, her teeth are gnawing at the plush skin on her bottom lip again. she could feel the ridges of his dick chafing against her cunt while he pressed heavily inside of her; he goes slower and drawls deeper, much to her delight, emphasizing his emotions with every downward circulation of his hips.

he reluctantly removes his hand from her stomach, in favor of reaching down to slide it beneath her calf. he hefts her right leg over his shoulder and leans forward a bit so the angle’s shifted. “you—f-feel so good!” he’s deeper than before and it’s almost primal at how he wants to feel her come undone for him. the sweat that’s gathered on his forehead is slick against her skin as he lowers his head and tucks his face in her neck. smoke rolls his hips and fucks into her with abandon, brushing his pelvis against hers until he’s seated inside of her again.

“right there!” annie cries in pleasure when he thrusts into her swiftly and lingered there for a bit. he felt her clench tightly around his dick at the movement.

“yeah, like that?”

“a-again!” she encourages, tossing her head back when he mimicked the move again, this time increasing the pleasure by pressing his thumb against her engorged clit. he’s nearly sprawled out across of her, hunched over in his position. his breathing is heavy and hot in her ear, his body’s shaking and burning against her.

“tell me this pussy is mine.” he rasps shakily, feeling every squeeze and tug that she warps around him. his muscles burn and ache from the exertion but his only focus is on making her cum.

“it’s yours, baby. only yours!” and annie swears she feels him get bigger at her praise; his dick twitches and swells in its girth and smoke curses filthily under his breath. he fucks her deeply into the mattress, the grip he’s got on her leg tightens as he rolls and thrusts his hips — fucking her deep and fast. “you’re the only one that makes me f-feel this good.”

she feels so damn good around him as she opens her body onto him. his jaw is slacked, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he watched himself prod deeper inside of her, penetrating her and filling her up to the brim.

then, she feels her breath catching and body seizing as she cums. the pressure erupts from her; fast and hard and she’s still throbbing through it as smoke’s dick continues its languid thrusts. he curses again, hand slips between her moist thighs finding her clit. he rubs attentively at the swollen nub and drags his hips against hers until he feels his orgasm following quickly behind hers. the pressure builds directly into his tip and he gives one last lazy thrust before he’s shuddering through his release.

he cums inside of her, thick and warm, still undulating his hips as he sees the fluid nearly spill out of her. smoke grunts as he fucks his cum back into her, watches it stretch and become almost frothy. his hips jerk again then he stills as his body nearly paralyzes from the overwhelming pleasure.

he breathes ruggedly as he pressed soft kisses against her sweaty skin. “i swear you gon’ be the death of me one day,” he says, rolling his hips lazily against her as the remnants of his orgasm milks out of him.

annie rolls her eyes fondly at him as she shakes her head. smoke kisses her thigh before reluctantly loosening his grip and lowering her leg back onto the bed. when his dick flaccids, he pulls out of her and falls beside her with a tired yawn. “i tire you out?” annie teases, shifting on the mattress so that she’s turned in his direction. he’s laid with his eyes closed and a lazy smirk curled on his lips.

he nods, “you always do.”

she smiles before shifting closer so that her head’s tucked on his shoulder. smoke maneuvers around so that he’s able to wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer into his embrace. “i missed you.”

smoke flutters his eyes open and looks down at her with a soft expression. “i missed you too, baby.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheek. he leans forward and kisses her, gently nudging his nose against hers.

“when you leavin’ again?” the question’s a soft whisper shared between them. her finger trails along his chest at the skin and muscle that’s there.

he shakes his head, sighing in a soft frustration. “i don’t know. we might have to go back up north to handle some left over business.” ever since him and stack had started running their schemes, they often split their time between here and up north as they acquired more business opportunities. sometimes the stretch of their journey took days, other times weeks and on occasions months. this last excursion was thankfully only a few days, but both of them had felt the longing of each other’s presence while smoke was gone.

“just make sure you’re safe and keep that mojo bag around your neck!”

he smiles as he nods his head. “yes ma’am.”

“i’m serious, elijah.” she remarks pointedly, though not moving away when he begins to kiss softly at her neck. “the shit you and stack been gettin’ into recently…it’s dangerous!”

“mhm…” he murmurs, now sucking at the spot of skin behind her ear as he brushes his thumb over her peaked nipple. he rolls his hips against hers, allowing her to feel the tautness of his dick that had seemingly erected again. “you feel what you do to me? just the thought of bein’ inside you again gets me fuckin’ hard.”

“you ain’t listenin’ to me.”

“i’m listenin’ baby, i promise.” he slides his mouth over hers in a deep kiss before he’s rolling onto his back. he bites his lip as he looked at her debauched appearance. she looked like she got fucked and smoke was getting more hard as he stared at creamy fluid of his cum slipping between her thighs and folds. he gestures a hand towards her. “c’mere.”

“elijah…”

“you ride and i’ll listen.”

she wants to scold him for not taking her warnings seriously, but he’s giving her that signature boyish smile of his and it has her shaking her head and rolling her eyes fondly as she sits upright and crawls over to him. she straddles his waist, bracketing her legs on the sides of him. her wetness drags up smoke’s thighs as she adjusts her perch.

annie arches her hips and back as she rolls her hips forward, catching smoke’s tip at her entrance. she’s then reaching in between their bodies and levitating herself off of his lap just enough so that she’s grabbing ahold of him. both of their eyes lower, watching in heed as she lined him at her entrance. she arches her hips again before lowering herself down onto him — refilling herself of his dick.

“oh, fuck!” smoke groaned, his hands steadying their grip on her waist. he’s buried in the heat of her again, trapped in that familiar warmth and tightness that already has him half dazed.

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