#pretty sure we all fell in love w/ him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlegochu · 2 months ago

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hold me tight │ jjk 18+

"I never stopped loving you."

Trigger Warning: This story contains emotional and physical abuse. (Jungkook is not the abuser btw)

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: exes to lovers

rating: 18+, fluff w smut.

synopsis: Y/N is untouchable, his dare: "Make her fall in love with you."

Two years ago, Y/N was just a dare—a game Jungkook never meant to take seriously. But somewhere between the laughter, late nights, and whispered promises, he fell. Hard. Then the truth came out, and everything shattered.

Now, Y/N is a single mother trying to rebuild her life when fate throws Jungkook back into her world. He’s changed. Older. Steadier. But the past still burns between them. As secrets unravel and emotions resurface, they’re forced to face everything they tried to leave behind.

Some wounds run deep. But some loves never die.

“Maybe,” you start, voice light and sweet, “the reservation can wait.”

You round the corner into the bedroom, heels in hand, lips slightly parted at the sight in front of you.

Black dress shirt. Sleeves rolled just enough to show off the tattoos. Silver watch, subtle chain. Hair pushed back perfectly like he didn’t even try.

He glances up from the mirror.

Smirks.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, walking over, eyeing your dress like he wants to ruin it.

You loop your arms around his neck lazily, standing on your toes. “You just look so good, baby. It feels wrong to let anyone else see you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles, low and rough, hands finding your hips like instinct.

“Pretty sure you’ve seen me look better.”

You pout. “Not recently.”

His brow lifts. “That right?”

Before you can answer, he hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing, setting you down on the kitchen counter with a grunt of satisfaction.

Your breath catches.

He steps between your legs, crowding your space, lips ghosting over yours.

“We have all day, baby,” he murmurs, voice a little rough. “I’m all yours.”

You fake a whine. “You’re teasing.”

He grins, kisses your cheek, your jaw, then finally your lips. “Maybe.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper into his mouth: “Ten minutes.”

He pulls back just enough to grin. “Dinner first. Then I’ll give you all the time you want.”

The sunset hits just right — golden and warm, spilling over the skyline like it’s bending just for you. String lights sway gently above your heads, casting soft glows on silverware and champagne flutes. The city buzzes somewhere below, muffled by height and distance, replaced by the quiet clink of plates and the lull of soft jazz floating through the speakers.

Sitting in Le Morte— the restaurant his parents gave to him on his 21st birthday. The same restaurant where he asked you to be his girlfriend, the same tiny restaurant you both promised his parents to build up to success. Now, it's a beautiful restaurant sitting at the top of the tallest towers in South Korea.

You sit across from Jungkook, candlelight flickering between you, and he looks—

God. He looks unreal.

Black dress shirt, sleeves rolled, collar loose. Gold chain sitting just at the base of his throat. One arm draped casually over the back of his chair, the other lazily stirring the ice in his drink like he has all the time in the world.

But his eyes are locked on you.

The whole time.

Not just glancing. Not just admiring. Watching you like he’s soaking in every second. Like he’s trying to memorize the way your lip gloss catches the light, or how you tuck your hair behind your ear when you laugh too hard.

“Stop,” you murmur, cheeks warm from the wine. “You’re staring.”

His smile is crooked. Intimate. Like it’s just for you.

“Let me,” he says softly. “Might not get to do it like this again.”

You blink. “What does that mean?”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table, fingers rubbing gently at the base of his glass. The sunset behind him catches the glint of something silver in his palm.

A small box.

Your breath stops.

You freeze.

He stands up.

“I was gonna wait until dessert,” he says, voice low but certain. “But I can’t. Not when you look like this. Not when I’ve been carrying this for months.”

The world quiets.

He drops to one knee.

Your heart stumbles.

“You’re it for me,” he says. “Even when I’m loud. Even when I’m wrong. Even when I piss you off and leave dishes in the sink. I want you. I want lazy mornings and midnight drives and grocery trips with a shared cart and matching house keys.”

Your eyes are already burning.

“So marry me. Let me wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Let me be yours, fully, finally, forever.”

He opens the box.

A silver ring. Simple. Elegant. Yours.

You cover your mouth, tears slipping before you can stop them. And your voice shakes as you whisper, “Yes.”

He lets out a breathy laugh like he was holding it in for hours.

You stand. He grabs your waist and pulls you into him — tight, full-body, arms around you like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go.

He kisses you.

Slow. Certain. Familiar.

And when you pull back, your forehead rests against his, both of you smiling through tears.

“Told you I’d give you forever,” he whispers.

You barely make it through the front door before he’s on you.

The ring is still snug on your finger, your heels are kicked off, and he’s kissing you like the air in his lungs depends on you.

Your back hits the wall. His hands are everywhere — one at your waist, one sliding up your thigh, slow and sure and possessive like he’s already memorized every inch.

But it’s not rushed. It’s not messy. It’s deliberate.

His lips brush your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb tracing the line of your lower lip.

You whisper, “You’re shaking.”

He swallows hard. Smiles, a little unsteady.

“I’m in love. Give me a break.”

You reach for him — fingertips curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

And he lets you.

Lets you tug him down. Onto the couch. Into you.

He kisses you like a prayer, like a secret, like a man terrified and overwhelmed and deeply, undeniably yours.

His hands are slow.

His mouth is reverent.

Every inch he touches feels claimed, branded, held.

“Say it again,” he whispers as his nose grazes your collarbone.

“What?”

“That you’re mine.”

Your voice breaks against his shoulder. “I’m yours.”

And he breathes out the quietest, most broken “Good.”

His lips press into the crook of your neck, soft at first, barely there — like he's grounding himself. Like he needs to feel you just to believe you're real. His breath is warm, shaky against your skin. You can feel the smile in it. The ache, too.

You exhale slowly, hand threading through the hair at the back of his neck, fingertips brushing the undercut.

He kisses your collarbone. Then again. And again. Slower. Lower.

Your dress slips off one shoulder. His mouth follows the exposed skin like it’s his path home. His hands — warm, steady — trace your hips like he’s reminding himself you said yes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, lips brushing over the top of your chest. “No idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You laugh softly, breath catching. “You already have me.”

He leans back just enough to look at you — really look — and the way he stares makes you forget how to breathe.

Like you’re the only thing he’s ever believed in.

His thumb grazes your jaw, then your bottom lip, slow and reverent.

“I know. That’s what scares me.”

Before you can ask what he means, his mouth is on yours again — deeper this time, hungry but restrained, like he’s savoring it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open for him instinctively, your body already arching into him like it knows its place.

He lifts you without warning, hands gripping the backs of your thighs, walking you toward the bedroom like he’s done it a hundred times — but tonight it feels different.

Charged. Worshipful. Final, somehow.

He lays you down like you're made of glass.

Then he follows.

His weight settles between your legs, but it’s not heavy — it’s perfect. Warm. Familiar.

His kisses slow. Dragging. Like he wants to memorize how you taste.

You feel his hand slide down your side, slipping under your dress, skimming the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches.

You shake your head, voice breathy. “Don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” His eyes darken. “You want me to take my time with you?”

You nod.

And he does.

The dress comes off inch by inch — not rushed, not desperate. Like unwrapping something sacred. His eyes never leave you, like if he blinks, he’ll lose you.

Your back arches when his mouth moves lower, slow kisses across your chest, your ribs, the dip of your stomach. His hands are warm and sure, holding your waist, smoothing over your skin like he’s trying to learn every inch by feel.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, voice almost shaky. “You always have been.”

Your chest clenches. Because the way he says it—so full of awe, of devotion—it sounds like he’s been waiting his whole life just to tell you.

And when he finally sinks into you, it’s not rushed. It’s slow. Deep. Everything.

You cling to him — arms around his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his back, legs wrapped tight around his waist — because it feels too good. Too full. Too much.

He moans into your neck, low and guttural, breath hot against your skin.

“This… you… this is it for me,” he murmurs, hips rolling deeper, like he can’t get close enough.

Your eyes blur. Your fingers tangle in his hair. You whisper his name like it’s a prayer.

Every stroke is steady. Intimate. The rhythm building slow, like he's not just trying to make you come—he’s trying to mark you. Remember you.

And when it finally crests—when you cry out and he groans your name like it’s carved into his lungs—he holds you through it.

Shaking. Pressing kisses to your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth.

He doesn’t move for a long time. Just breathes.

His forehead stays pressed to yours, his hand softly stroking your side.

“I love you, my wife.” he whispers.

“We’re done.”

You don’t yell. You don’t have to.

The silence between you and Jungkook splits open the second the words leave your mouth.

“We’re fucking done.”

He’s frozen where he stands — barefoot, sweatpants low on his hips, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. He just got out of the shower. His hair’s still damp, clinging to his forehead. He looks… normal. Relaxed.

Like he’s not about to lose everything.

Like he has no fucking clue.

Your hand is trembling as you hold your phone out, the screen still glowing. His name is highlighted in the thread of messages, half-jokes and ego and the kind of careless boyish cruelty you never thought could come from him.

[Taehyung]: “Yo, you actually gonna do it?” [Jungkook]: “Already started. She’s cute. This’ll be easy.” [Namjoon]: “Bet you 200 she falls for you first.” [Jungkook]: “Watch me make her say I love you.”

Your voice trembles. “How long?”

He doesn’t answer.

You swallow, hard. “How long were they laughing at me?”

He takes a step forward and you step back, heart racing, breath caught.

“Y/N,” he says, quietly. “I can explain—”

“No. Don’t.” Your throat tightens so suddenly it almost chokes you. “You don’t get to look at me like that right now.”

He blinks like he’s been slapped.

“I wore your ring for two months,” you whisper. “Two months I’ve been waking up beside you, loving you, planning forever with you—while your friends texted you behind my back, congratulating you for playing me.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Then what was it?” The crack in your voice finally splits open. “What the fuck was I to you, Jungkook? Some prize? A challenge?”

He flinches like it physically hurts.

“It started as a dare, we were young,” he says, voice low, ashamed. “I was drunk. It was stupid. But the second I actually got to know you—”

“Stop.”

“—I fell so fucking hard, Y/N.”

“Stop.” Your eyes sting, but you refuse to cry in front of him. “Don’t stand there and feed me that now. Not when the only reason you ever spoke to me was because someone dared you to.”

He looks like he’s falling apart.

You wonder if he feels it the way you do—like the air’s been punched out of your lungs. Like your body’s full of splinters, breaking from the inside out.

“You were never a bet to me,” he says softly. “Not once I knew you.”

You almost laugh. It comes out broken.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He opens his mouth.

Closes it.

You take a shaky step back, the ring suddenly burning on your finger.

“You had so many chances, Jungkook. We dated for two fucking years, you proposed two months ago. You could’ve told me after our first date. After the first time we slept together. After the night you held me when I cried about my mom. You could’ve told me before you proposed.”

“I was scared,” he admits, voice breaking. “I knew I’d lose you.”

“Good.”

His eyes lift to yours—glassy, wounded.

You don’t care.

“I trusted you,” you whisper. “With everything. My body, my heart, my life. And you… you humiliated me.”

His breathing hitches. His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. Can’t.

“You’re not who I thought you were.”

“I am,” he says quickly. “I am. You know me better than anyone—”

“No, Jungkook.” You shake your head, blinking back tears. “I knew the version of you you let me see. I never knew this.”

Silence stretches between you, unbearable and sharp.

You slide the ring off your finger. Slowly. Like peeling off a layer of skin.

His eyes drop to your hand.

“No,” he breathes. “Don’t—”

You step forward. Place the ring on the counter. Not thrown. Not dramatic. Just... final.

“I was going to marry you,” you whisper. “I wanted to build a life with you.”

Tears slip down your cheek. You don’t wipe them.

“I would’ve given you everything.”

Jungkook’s voice is raw when he speaks. “You still can.”

You shake your head once, then again. Firmer.

“I’ll never know what was real,” you say. “I’ll never know if you looked at me like that because you loved me—or because you knew you’d already won.”

He breaks then.

Takes a step forward like he can’t stay still anymore, his voice cracking open.

“You were never a game to me.”

“But I was a joke to you once,” you whisper. “And that’s enough.”

His face crumples. “Please don’t leave.”

“I already did.”

You grab your bag. Sling it over your shoulder.

His feet move before he can stop himself. “Y/N, please. Baby—”

“Don’t call me that.”

He freezes.

You reach for the doorknob with trembling hands.

And then—because you can’t help it—you turn back one last time.

He looks ruined.

Hands limp at his sides. Eyes red. Chest rising too fast like he’s barely breathing.

He whispers your name like it’s the last thing he has.

You whisper back, barely audible—

“Goodbye.”

Then you walk out.

And this time… he doesn’t follow. Because he knows he lost you the second he lied.

[2 years later]

It’s warm inside the café.

Not the cloying kind—just soft. Familiar. The kind that seeps into your bones and tells your chest to stop bracing so hard. The kind of warm that smells like cinnamon and vanilla, where the hum of espresso machines mixes with quiet music and the occasional clink of mugs.

You’re sitting at a window table, one hand wrapped around a latte, the other steadying Jiho as he bounces lightly in your lap. He’s sticky with syrup and joy, a piece of pancake still clutched in one tiny fist. His laughter bubbles up when your boyfriend leans in and makes a quiet, ridiculous face just for him.

And you laugh too. Soft. Full. Real.

Your boyfriend has been good to you. Patient, steady, kind. He doesn’t push. He never tried to fill shoes that weren’t his to wear. He just showed up and stayed. And when you finally let him in, he didn’t treat your past like baggage. He treated it like part of the road that led you here.

So yeah, mornings like this? They feel okay. Safe.

Until the bell above the door rings.

You hear it, but you don’t look up right away. You’re busy wiping syrup off Jiho’s chin with a napkin, murmuring a quiet, “Hold still, baby,” while he wriggles.

And then you feel it.

Not just a presence. A rupture.

Your breath catches before you even know why.

You glance up.

And everything stops.

Jungkook walks into the café like a memory you weren’t ready for.

He’s with Taehyung. Laughing at something he says. But the moment he sees you, his body goes still. His expression falls apart in real time. And then his eyes drop—to Jiho.

To your son.

His son.

You feel the air punch out of your lungs.

He looks older. Bulkier. His hair is longer now, a little curl tucked behind his ear. He wears a dark hoodie, sleeves pushed up, exposing familiar tattoos that used to trace your skin. He looks…

Ruined. But whole in a new way. A version of him you don’t recognize. One that never held your hand in the middle of the night or whispered promises against your spine.

“You okay?” your boyfriend asks, his voice cutting softly through the tension.

You don’t answer at first.

Jungkook is still staring. At Jiho. Then at you. And there’s something in his expression that’s not shock anymore.

It’s betrayal.

“He’s getting fussy,” you murmur, eyes still fixed on Jungkook. “Can you take him to the car? I’ll just run to the bathroom and meet you there.”

Your boyfriend nods without hesitation, presses a kiss to your temple, and lifts Jiho easily into his arms. Jiho yawns and rests his head on his shoulder, thumb slipping into his mouth.

You can feel Jungkook’s stare as they leave.

You rise. Walk past him without looking.

The bathroom is down a narrow hall, dimly lit. You lock the door behind you and grip the sink until your knuckles ache.

You breathe.

In.

Out.

You rinse your hands slowly, as if that could wash off the past year.

And when you open the door—he’s there.

"Cheater." Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“You were mad at me this whole time,” Jungkook says, low and cold, “but you were out here carrying some other guy’s fucking baby?”

Your heart twists.

He laughs, humorless. “That’s rich, Y/N. You didn’t want me, but you moved on just fine, didn’t you?”

You stare at him. Silent.

The hallway feels like it’s shrinking.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“You don’t think I deserved to know?”

“Did I deserve to be a bet?”

That shuts him up.

You shake your head, eyes burning.

“I was pregnant when I left,” you whisper. “I didn’t even know it yet. I found out alone. I stayed alone. I gave birth alone. I raised him—your son—alone.”

Jungkook goes pale.

He looks stunned. Pale. A man watching the earth split under his feet.

His mouth opens once. Then closes.

“Y/N…”

You step back.

“And yeah, I moved on,” you breathe. “Because I had to. Because loving you almost destroyed me. Because trusting you did destroy me.”

His hands shake. His chest rises like it hurts to breathe.

“I would’ve been there.”

“Would you?” you whisper. “You lied every day for months, Jungkook. I don’t know what part of you was ever real.”

He swallows, eyes desperate now. “All of it. I loved you. I still—”

You cut him off with a cold laugh. Final. Solid. Unforgiving.

“Then you should’ve fought harder.”

There’s silence. Dense. Trembling.

“His name is Jiho,” you say flatly. “He’s brilliant. He has a real dad now. Someone who shows up, every day, no matter what. Someone who didn’t need to be biologically connected to love him better than you ever could.”

Jungkook flinches.

You feel nothing.

You take a step closer, voice low and sharp.

“You want a role in his life?”

He nods slowly. Hope flickers behind his eyes.

You smile.

It doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Too fucking bad.”

And then you walk.

You don’t look back.

Let him break.

Let him wonder.

Let him live with what he lost.

Because you have a son.

And a man who never made your love a game.

And a life you built from the ashes he left behind.

[jungkook pov]

Jungkook doesn’t remember how many shots it takes before the guilt finally numbs.

He doesn’t feel the booth beneath him or the sticky table under his forearms. Just the pressure in his throat—the kind that burns more than the liquor. The kind that doesn’t let go.

“She said his name is Jiho.”

His voice is rough. Slurred, but not from the alcohol. From everything else.

“He’s brilliant. Got a smart mouth. Big eyes. My fucking eyes.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything. He just watches him from across the table, jaw tight.

“She didn’t need to say it,” Jungkook mutters. “I knew the second I looked at him. That’s my kid.”

Yoongi leans back in his seat, arms crossed. Hoseok twirls his empty glass, saying nothing.

“She told me he has a real dad now.” Jungkook laughs, but it’s hollow. “Said he shows up. Loves him better than I ever could. Said he doesn’t need to be blood to be his father.”

The table goes quiet. No one meets his eyes.

“She meant it,” Jungkook breathes. “Every word.”

Taehyung finally speaks. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Anger. Screaming. Anything but that fucking smile she gave him.”

Jungkook rubs his hands over his face, then through his hair, like he’s trying to scrub the memory off his skin.

“She looked happy. Safe. Not because of me. In spite of me.”

“You hurt her,” Hoseok says, careful but blunt. “You don’t get to be surprised she moved on.”

“I’m not,” Jungkook snaps. “I’m not surprised. I’m—” He stops, breath catching.

“I’m destroyed.”

The word hangs there. Honest. Raw.

Yoongi taps a finger on the table. “You said you didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“I didn’t,” Jungkook growls. “I didn’t fucking know. If I did—God—do you think I would've let her go? Let her raise him alone?”

Taehyung’s voice is low. “Doesn’t change what you did before.”

Jungkook looks up slowly. “I never meant to fall in love with her.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters. “That’s kind of the problem.”

The silence turns heavier.

“She's a mom now,” Taehyung finally says. “And you? You’re the guy who made her a dare.”

Jungkook flinches.

“No mother worth a damn is gonna risk her child’s safety—or her own peace—on a man who turned her love into a joke.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispers.

“You say you want to be there for Jiho,” Hoseok says, “but you’re not the one who decides anymore. She does.”

“I’m not trying to take him,” Jungkook says hoarsely. “I just—I want to know him. I want him to know me.”

“He has a dad,” Taehyung says gently but firmly. “The one who stayed.”

Jungkook exhales sharply. His head drops into his hands.

“She said I couldn’t love him better. And maybe she’s right. Maybe I don’t deserve the chance.”

No one replies.

“I just want to try.”

The words leave him in a whisper. Barely there. But the silence that follows feels deafening.

No one answers.

Taehyung just stares at him like he’s already bracing for impact.

And maybe Jungkook was hoping for something—anything—a crack of sympathy, a nod, a sign that someone still believed in him. That he wasn’t completely fucking ruined.

But there’s nothing.

Only the echo of his own voice, pathetic and hollow.

And that’s what finally makes him snap.

He shoves the chair back so hard it topples. Kicks it across the floor without thinking. Glass clinks and shatters as a bottle rolls off the table and explodes near the wall. Hoseok jolts up, trying to steady him, but Jungkook shoves him off with a harsh, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

His breathing turns ragged, chest heaving as he grips the edge of the booth like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“She didn’t even give me a chance,” he spits, venom coating every word. “She just looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was the fucking villain.”

“Jungkook—” Taehyung tries, but he’s not listening.

“She never even told me. She made that choice for me. Took him away from me before I even knew he existed.”

He pounds his fist into the table—once, twice—until his knuckles split open. Blood pools against the cracked wood. He doesn’t even flinch.

Yoongi stands up slowly. “You’re scaring people.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook growls. “I’m already a ghost in my own life. What’s one more mess?”

Taehyung’s voice is quiet but firm. “You’re not helping anyone like this. Least of all yourself.”

“I wasn’t trying to help myself!” Jungkook shouts, eyes wild. “I just wanted to try. I wanted to be something—to someone. To him.”

He sways slightly, blood dripping down his hand, but he doesn’t notice. His eyes are glassy now, somewhere between fury and devastation.

“I didn’t ask to fall in love with her. I didn’t ask to lose her. But I did. And I lost him too.”

He finally sinks back into the booth, shoulders sagging like the fight’s drained out of him all at once.

“I’m not asking her to forgive me,” he whispers. “But she doesn’t get to erase me either. That’s my son.”

Nobody speaks.

The bar is quiet around them. Tense. Distant music playing beneath the weight of everything unspoken.

Taehyung finally breaks the silence.

“You’re bleeding.”

Jungkook looks down at his hand, broken skin and bruised knuckles.

He just laughs.

It’s almost midnight.

The apartment is still—blanketed in that soft kind of silence that only exists when the world’s asleep. Jiho is down for the night, his tiny breaths steady through the baby monitor on the table. The lights are low. My tea’s cold. Cassi’s face lights up the screen of my laptop, her voice a soothing constant in the quiet.

“So this girl—hand to God—she told her man, ‘If he wanted to, he would.’ And then this man shows up outside her job with a damn sign.”

I laugh into my cup. “A sign?”

“A literal cardboard sign. In public.”

“Okay, fine. That’s cute.”

"Hm, you have that look again."

"What look?"

“The one where you pretend you’re not thinking about him.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not.”

“Sure,” she drawls, then leans closer to the camera. “Bet he’s still hot. I wonder if he’s single.”

I laugh. “Wanna stalk him?”

“Don’t tempt me.” Her fingers are already moving. “What was his full @ again?”

I try to hide my grin. “You’re horrible.”

“Got him,” she says triumphantly. A second later, a notification pops up. Cassi’s just sent me his profile.

I don’t open it.

Not yet.

Instead, I lean back, feeling the air shift. That weird, aching weight that creeps in when you let a memory hang too long.

Cassi notices. “Hey,” she says gently. “You okay?”

Before I can answer, the door opens.

The lock clicks.

I freeze. Cassi’s expression sharpens. “Is that him?”

I nod and quickly end the call. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The apartment door creaks open. Han steps inside—jacket askew, smelling like beer and sweat and the kind of cheap cologne that clings to your skin for hours. His smile is crooked, lazy. A little drunk.

“Baby,” he calls out, dropping his keys to the counter, “you’re still up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He stumbles over and drops onto the couch beside me, pulling me into his lap without waiting. He’s clingy—hands all over me, breath hot against my neck.

“I missed you tonight,” he says, lips grazing my cheek. “Was thinking about you the whole time.”

“You smell like beer.”

“I had a few.”

His fingers start trailing down my side. I pull away.

“Han, Jiho’s sleeping.”

“Let him sleep. I want you.”

“I’m tired.”

He stills. Then pulls back slightly to glance at the screen I didn’t have time to close. The Google tab is open again.

His eyes narrow.

“What’s this?”

I move to shut the laptop, but he snatches it first. Reads the screen.

His voice sharpens. “You’re looking up his shit?”

“It was nothing.”

“You miss him?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

He stands abruptly, sending the laptop sliding off the couch.

“I go out for a few drinks and come home to this? You—still thinking about that fucker who left you?”

I rise to my feet. “Han, you’re drunk.”

He steps closer. “You want him again? That it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

“No, I’m not—”

He grabs my wrist hard.

“You were mine,” he growls. “I took care of you. Took care of your kid. And you’re still out here googling your ex like some pathetic little girl.”

“Han,” I whisper. “Let go.”

But he doesn’t. His grip tightens.

And then he slaps me.

Hard.

The sound cracks through the room.

My head jerks sideways. My cheek stings. My ears ring.

I freeze.

He doesn’t.

He lunges again, fists balled, grabbing my shoulders now, shaking me like I’m the problem. Like I’m the one who ruined him.

“You ungrateful bitch,” he snarls. “I fed him. I stayed. And you still look at me like I’m not good enough.”

I cry out as his knuckles graze my collarbone.

“Please—stop—”

But he won’t.

He doesn’t even hesitate this time.

I shove him back with everything in me and sprint for Jiho’s room.

My heart is slamming in my chest.

I grab Jiho—still half asleep, clinging to my shirt—and the baby monitor. I don’t even grab shoes.

Han’s shouting behind me, but I don’t listen. I don’t stop.

I bolt.

Out the door.

Down the stairs.

Into the night.

It’s almost 2 a.m.

I’m sitting on a metal bench outside a shuttered pharmacy, cold biting through the thin fabric of Jiho’s blanket, my coat, my skin—everything.

He won’t stop crying.

His little hands keep clawing at my chest, his body trembling as I hold him tighter and tighter, whispering, “I know, baby, I know,” even though nothing I do is helping.

He’s cold.

I’m cold.

And everything is closed.

I tried every door. The gas station. The diner. Even knocked on the back entrance of a convenience store until my hands went numb.

No one answered.

I pull him tighter into my chest. Try to rub warmth into his back, over and over, like friction and desperation will be enough to make him stop shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, rocking him slightly, even though I know it’s not enough. “I didn’t mean to bring you out here. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

My voice cracks before I can finish.

Jiho’s sobs aren’t the loud kind. They’re tired, hoarse, hiccupping. The kind that gut you. The kind that sound like trust breaking down.

And I’m failing him.

I’m failing my baby.

I try not to cry. I really do. But my eyes are stinging so hard I can’t see, and my throat’s so tight I can’t breathe.

I press my lips to his forehead. He’s too cold. His skin is damp with sweat and tears.

“Please stop crying,” I whisper, like begging him will undo everything. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know where to go.

Everyone I thought I could call—Cassi, gone. My old neighbor, asleep. Family? Not an option. I burned that bridge when I chose Han. I told myself I could fix him. I told myself Jiho would never see the worst of him.

I lied.

I bounce Jiho lightly in my arms, trying to calm him down even though I’m shaking just as badly.

He coughs once. Shudders again.

Something cracks inside me.

I pull out my phone. My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop it. I scroll. Scroll again. I open every app like something magic might be waiting there—someone, anyone—who could help.

But there’s no one.

And then… I don’t know why I think of it. I just do.

That stupid restaurant name. Le Morte.

The place he made me promise we’d build together.

My thumb hovers over the browser.

I shouldn’t.

I swore I’d never give him another chance to hurt me.

But Jiho’s still crying. His whole body trembling against mine.

And I have nothing left.

I type the name.

The website loads. I don’t read it. I just find the number.

I hit “Call.”

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I almost hang up.

Then—

“Le Morte.”

His voice is deeper than I remember. Quieter. But still him. Still Jungkook.

I don’t say anything.

"Hello?" A pause. A faint inhale. Then again, softer this time— "...Hello?" The sound of his voice breaks something open.

My throat caves in on itself. I try to speak, but all that comes out is a choke—sharp, ugly, aching.

I press the phone tighter to my ear, like that could steady my hands, like that could hold me up.

Another gasp escapes me. “I… I don’t…”

“Y/N?” His voice shifts. Urgent. Gentle. “Is that you?”

"Bab—" He stops himself. Breathes out slow. Then, careful and quiet: “Y/N, I need you to breathe. Just breathe for me, okay? I can’t help if I can’t understand you. Please—just tell me where you are.”

I blink, but everything’s a blur—wet and trembling and spinning. Jiho’s still crying against me, his little sobs going straight through my chest like wire.

“I don’t know—” My voice breaks. “I didn’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Hey. Hey, stop.”

His tone softens again, that low warmth I haven’t heard in two years, like balm against an open wound. “I’m glad you called me. It’s okay, I promise it’s okay. Just tell me where you are. Anything you see around you. Anything, Y/N.”

I look around wildly, heart clawing at my ribs. “Pharmacy. Near… near the intersection by the overpass, across from—there’s a bus stop. Metal bench. I—he’s so cold, Jungkook. He won’t stop crying and I didn’t mean to bring him out I just—”

“Okay. Okay, I know where that is. That’s enough. I’m coming. Right now. Don’t hang up, alright?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Okay.”

“I want you to hold Jiho just like you are. Keep your cheek against his. I’m getting in my car now. I’ll talk to you the whole way.”

His voice is quieter now. Thicker.

“I’ll be there soon. Just hold on for me. Please.”

And for the first time in hours—maybe longer—I let myself cry. Really cry. The kind that comes from somewhere deep. Not panic. Not frustration.

Just grief.

Because despite everything—despite the hurt, the betrayal, the years apart—I still remember what it felt like to be safe in his voice.

The headlights cut through the dark like a promise.

I hear the tires before I see them—skidding slightly on wet pavement as the car pulls up to the curb. The engine dies, and the world goes quiet again except for Jiho’s whimpers, quieter now, fading into hiccups against my chest.

The door swings open.

Footsteps.

He’s still in his suit.

The one from Le Morte. Midnight black, sleek lapels catching what little light bleeds from the streetlamp above. His tie’s undone. Hair slightly windblown like he ran the second he got my call.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not at first.

Just stands there for a beat, eyes scanning me—Jiho pressed into my chest, my tear-streaked face, the way I’m shaking like my whole body’s trying to hold back a scream.

Then he moves.

His steps are fast but careful, like he’s afraid if he startles me, I’ll vanish.

He shrugs off the suit jacket and drops to his knees in front of us.

He drapes the coat around Jiho’s small frame, then pulls it over my shoulders too, like he’s trying to shield both of us at once. His hands linger there for a moment. Warm. Steady. Familiar.

My body caves forward.

I don’t mean to. I don’t even think. I just fold into him, and he catches us like he never stopped being mine.

I sob into his shoulder. Gasping, messy, completely undone.

Jiho clings tighter to me, still crying, but quieter now—like he knows something’s shifted.

Jungkook wraps his arms around both of us.

He doesn’t ask anything.

He just holds on.

Tight.

One hand cups the back of my head, the other bracing Jiho’s trembling spine.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay now.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. That nothing’s okay. That I’m still broken, still afraid, still so angry.

But all I do is cry harder.

And he lets me.

His own breath stutters against my cheek, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t ask for answers.

He just holds me like he never wants to let go again.

I don’t know how long we stay like that. On the cold pavement. Wrapped in the scent of him—cologne and city air and something achingly familiar.

Jiho’s hiccups start to slow. His small hand curls into the front of Jungkook’s shirt, and for a second, Jungkook stops breathing altogether. His fingers twitch slightly against Jiho’s back, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to react.

But Jiho doesn’t let go.

So Jungkook exhales. Slowly. And wraps both arms around us again.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” I whisper eventually. My voice is raw. Shaky. “I didn’t want to call you.”

“I know.”

He gives a small nod, like he’s scared saying anything will push me away. “But you remembered Le Morte.”

I pull back just enough to look at him. His face is shadowed, lit only by the flickering streetlamp, but I see it—every crack. Every line.

His jaw is clenched. His eyes are red. Not from the cold.

He’s hurting too.

“Why did you come?” I whisper. “You could’ve ignored it. You could’ve sent someone else. You could’ve—”

“I would’ve crawled through fire to get to you.”

I suck in a breath. My lip trembles.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit, barely getting the words out. “I don’t know where to go. I don’t even know how I got here. I just—he hit me, Jungkook. He—he hit me and Jiho saw.”

His whole body tenses. His jaw ticks so hard I flinch, and he notices—immediately softening.

“I’m not him,” he says low. “I swear to God, I’m not him. But if you need me to leave after this, I will. I’ll go. Just tell me where you want to be, and I’ll get you there safe. That’s all I care about right now.”

I look down at Jiho. His head is resting on my shoulder again. One hand fisting the fabric of Jungkook’s coat. His cheeks are pink from the cold, but his eyes are fluttering shut. He’s exhausted.

“Can we go somewhere warm?” I ask. “Just…for tonight.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate.

“Yeah, baby.”

I freeze.

He sees it—hears it—and his voice softens again.

“I mean—Y/N. Yeah. Let’s get you warm.”

He rises carefully, lifting Jiho from my arms without waking him. He holds him so securely, like he’s done it a hundred times, and my chest twists.

I stand too, legs weak. Jungkook watches me closely, like he’s waiting for me to collapse again. He keeps an arm around me as we walk toward the car waiting by the curb.

He opens the back door, gently places Jiho in the seat, then looks back at me.

“You sit with him. I’ll drive.”

And just like that, I nod.

Because for the first time in a long time— I believe him. We’re safe.

He places Jiho in the backseat, his hands steady but his jaw locked so tight it looks like it might shatter.

When he closes the door and turns to me, I expect him to say something—anything.

But he doesn’t.

Not at first.

He just stares.

At me.

His eyes flick over my face, pausing on the bruises beneath my makeup, the swelling just below my eye. My cracked lip. My trembling fingers still clutching the edge of his coat.

His whole body shakes as he exhales through his nose.

And then he’s in front of me—closer than I can brace for.

His hands reach out, hesitating for a breath before they find my cheeks, the pads of his thumbs ghosting over my skin like I might disappear. His brows are drawn so tight, his mouth pressed in fury, but his touch… God.

His touch is gentle.

Too gentle.

He wipes under my eyes with trembling fingers.

He swallows hard, like the words taste like poison. His thumb keeps brushing under my eye, trying to clean away the tears that won’t stop falling. His forehead leans close, almost touching mine, his breath shaky.

“You have no idea,” he whispers, voice low, “what it did to me to hear your voice like that.”

I blink up at him. My knees feel hollow.

“You were crying. And Jiho was crying. And I wasn’t there—again."

“Tell me where he is,” he whispers. “Just tell me where.”

“Jungkook—”

“No,” he says, voice still soft, but steel beneath. “You don’t get to show up shaking and scared, with bruises on your face and tears in your eyes, and expect me not to burn the fucking world down.”

His voice falters at the end. His hands drop, then fist at his sides.

“I didn’t come to fall into you again,” I say quietly. “I came because I had no one left. That doesn’t mean I—”

“I know,” he cuts in, eyes closing for a second like he’s steadying himself. “But I’m not strong enough to pretend it doesn’t mean anything.”

Silence lingers.

The wind cuts past us, but he steps in again, cupping the back of my head, his palm warm against my scalp. His other arm wraps around me slowly—cautiously—like he’s waiting for me to pull away.

I don’t.

I can’t.

He holds me against his chest like I’m glass.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispers into my hair. “All along. Through everything.”

I cry harder.

Because despite everything I told myself— Despite the time, the pain, the silence—

A part of me never stopped wishing he had been.

The morning light slips through the blinds in pale streaks, soft and almost kind, like it doesn’t know how much pain this room has held overnight. I haven’t moved much. I’ve been sitting on the edge of the bed for almost an hour, staring at the carpet, trying to pretend my stomach isn’t hollow, that my lungs aren’t tight, that the world hasn’t shifted underneath me again.

Jiho is asleep in the hotel crib across the room—warm, safe, breathing steady. Jungkook insisted we take the king bed, and he spent the night on the armchair, half-awake, shirt wrinkled, jaw locked. He left early this morning, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t coming back.

But the door opens.

My shoulders jump before I can stop them.

“It’s just me,” he says, voice low, careful. I don’t turn around. I just listen to the soft thud of his shoes as he steps inside.

“I brought breakfast.”

I hear the tray set down on the small table. Hear the lids lifting, the faint hiss of steam rising into the quiet. I don’t move. I can’t.

“You didn’t have to,” I murmur.

“I wanted to.”

His voice is closer now. I feel him looking at me, the silence stretching. I finally glance up.

He looks… tired. The same white button-down from last night, sleeves pushed up. No jacket. Dark slacks, black watch. His hair is messy, like he’s run his hands through it a thousand times since the sun came up.

I can’t hold his gaze.

He sits down slowly, arms resting on his knees. He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t push. But his voice cuts through everything anyway.

“Why him?”

I freeze.

“Why Han?” he says again, quieter now. “What made you pick him? Stay with him? Let him around Jiho?”

I feel the sting in my eyes before I even try to speak.

“I thought I didn’t owe you that.”

“You don’t.” His voice catches. “But I need to know. Because last night you looked like you were breaking. And then you called me.”

I don’t answer.

“I thought you hated me,” he whispers.

I close my eyes. “I did.”

His breath catches.

“But I didn’t have anyone else.”

That admission burns worse than anything.

He doesn’t speak right away. And when he does, it’s so quiet I almost miss it.

“I’m glad you called me.”

I blink hard.

“And don’t look at me like that,” he says gently, like he can read every line of guilt on my face. “I know you feel guilty. I know you think you shouldn’t have. But Jiho’s my son. And you’re his mother.”

He stands, steps closer.

“I wanted to do this. I want to be here. Don’t be guilty.”

His voice cracks. Just barely.

“I wanted to protect you.”

The room feels too small. My throat feels too tight. I can’t breathe with all this silence pressing on me.

When he reaches for me, I let him. His hand touches my cheek, his thumb brushing beneath my eye—and I realize I’m crying again.

His palm is warm. Steady.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he says.

And I break.

I lean into him, and he catches me, arms wrapping around me like a shelter I never thought I’d need again. He holds me tight—tight like he doesn’t want to let go, tight like he’s afraid if he does, I’ll disappear again.

My hands clutch his shirt, and his lips brush my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“No,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. “You don’t have to say that. Not right now.”

And before I can think—before guilt or pride can pull me back—I lift my face and kiss him.

It’s slow. Raw. Desperate. Like everything we’ve buried is clawing its way back to the surface.

His hand cradles the back of my neck, his breath shuddering.

He kisses me like he’s been waiting years for this.

And for once… I let him.

authors note: im ngl im tryna stay active by using my old stories, sooo they're lowkey unedited but again pls comment i love hearing ur opinions!!!

#bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts army #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook ff

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bruhstories · 3 months ago

Text

touch-starved

summary: dante is touch-starved, and he thinks the only way for him to feel something is to get punched by you

pairing: dante x afab!reader | based on the netflix version but definitely canon divergent

warnings: dry humping, unprotected p in v, creampie, degradation kink, very light choking, lots of swearing, kind of soft dom dante and light pain kink if you squint, idiots in love, friends to lovers, bit of praise, fem bodied reader

w/c: ~3.2k

a/n: this is definitely not my best work but it's a warm up ig. lol anyway i absolutely loved the dmc netflix version, and i'm considering getting the games

"Punch me."

Not a question, but an indisputable demand coming from the demon hunter, which made you do a double take, place the barrel of your M4 carbine on the table, and flat-out refuse.

"No."

He snarled, yes, snarled at you, slamming his pistol against the table with a loud bang. You looked up from your own weapon, taken aback by Dante's reaction, concern written all over your face. Was he high??

"Come on, Y/N, just do it. Just one punch, one tiny little punch. I know you want to." His cocky grin did numbers on your nerves, but you still refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hitting him. It’s been years since you met Dante, by this point you were used to his shenanigans.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now." You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

"Skill issue."

#dante sparda #dante dmc #devil may cry #dante x reader #devil may cry x reader #dante x you #dante sparda x you #dmc x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda smut #dmc x you #devil may cry x you #dmc netflix #dmc #dmc dante

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yvnqire · 9 months ago

Text

— stringless .lhs

enemies(?) w benefits!heeseung x f!reader

a/n: well here we go first lil drabble hehe

wc: 767

—

"you're fucking enjoying this, aren't you?" heeseung growled, absolutely ruining you every time his cock slipped back inside your dripping cunt. your hands were pinned against the mattress above your head by one of his, leaving your body fully exposed to him. your head fell back, letting out a moan you'd been trying so hard to hold back. "you say you hate me yet you love my cock so much that you keep coming back for more,"

you despised him but you couldn't deny just how good he made you feel. it embarrassed you just how easily he could get you riled up despite how angry he made you. you hated the way you found yourself wanting him, craving his touch. what made things worse was that he knew the effect he had on you, and that he wasn't afraid to use it against you.

he was relentless, degrading words slipping out every chance he got. your walls clenched around him at his words, pushing a groan past his lips at the tight sensation. "i wonder what your friends would think if they knew just how much of a slut you are for me, just how many times you've let me fuck this pretty pussy, yeah?"

“fuck you,” you glared at him, voice weak and shaky.

“already are, sweetheart,” he chuckled, clearly amused by your futile attempt to knock him down a peg. heeseung released your wrists, head dipping down to your chest. he took a nipple between his lips, sucking and licking at the skin. your back arched against him, pushing your chest up against his mouth. your fingers carded through his hair, gripping and tugging at the dark strands.

“and you fucking love it,” you scoffed, taking a jab at the way he’s just as shameless as you are. “mmh, calling me at two in the morning, b-begging to come over– who’s really the whore here?”

“fuck yeah i do,” he’s admitting with zero hesitation, a smirk spreading across his face. glancing down, his gaze fixated on watching the way his cock disappeared within you. he pulled his lip between his teeth, small grunts slipping out with each thrust. the bed creaked beneath you, neither noticing the way the headboard slammed against the wall. “i mean– can you blame me? pussy’s so good, fuck,”

your newly freed hands found purchase on his shoulder and forearm, nails clawing at his skin harshly. subconsciously, you moved your hips in a way that changed the angle in which he pounded into you, allowing him to nail that spongy spot inside you that left you weak. you’re gasping out in pleasure, his name leaving your lips in a cry. your body was left reeling, the steadily growing pressure in your abdomen bordering its limit.

he was panting above you, eyes squeezed shut as he was trying his damnedest to not only keep his composure but stave off his rapidly approaching orgasm. sure, he may be an asshole, but your pleasure will always come above his own.

“f-fuck, hee! m’gonna—!” you were writhing under him, your moans turning into desperate whines as your body practically begged to be thrown over the edge.

“yeah? cum for me then,” he whispered with a cocky smile despite the fact that he was just as close as you were in that moment. his hand slipped between you, thumb starting to rub harsh circles into your clit. “cum on the cock you claim to hate so much,”

that was all it took. you were crying out his name, your entire body shuddering as your orgasm washed over you. your hands gripped at him like your life depended on it, the intensity leaving you breathless.

heeseung hissed out as your walls tightened down around him, the sensation all he needed to reach his own high. with one final thrust, he tensed up with a broken, choked moan as he came, filling you to the brim with his cum.

he remained still for a moment, catching his breath before slowly pulling himself from you. he stares, watching the way the mix of yours and his releases dripped out of your abused hole and onto the sheets beneath you. your chest was still heaving, trying to catch your breath after it all.

you were immediately tired, falling asleep within minutes while heeseung proceeded to get dressed and gather his things. almost as quickly as you fell asleep, he was headed toward the door.

that’s all it was between you. blowing off steam when you needed it, and neither of you thought it any different.

then why did he hesitate and look back before walking out?

#enhypen #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #why am i scared #ੈ✩‧₊˚yvnaura lhs

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

Note

Hi girlie! Can you write something about baby daddy Rafe? Set in a FWB universe and reader ends up pregnant because he loves c*ming inside her? Love your works they keep me up at night in the best way 🤭🤍

➤ w/c: 0.9k

➤ warnings: smut at the beginning, unprotected sex, fwb (kinda?)

➤ a/n: hey, love❤️ I wasn't sure whether you wanted them to end up together or not, so I made something in between. I got inspired and wrote another part for this one, which I may post later, but I'm open to changing/adding something if y'all have any ideas.

masterlist

“Rafe… we shouldn’t do this— ah, fuck, please!” You cried out, your back arching from the bed, seeking more attention from his lips to your sensitive nipples.

“I can’t stop. It’s gonna be okay, just one time, baby.” He grumbled, sucking in your skin. Rafe was pounding into your poor body without any mercy; he was too excited to be bare inside of you for the first time.

When you came to his place, you two quickly found out that you ran out of condoms that were usually stacked on his bedside table, but you were too far gone to stop it. You were naked, your pussy was leaking with arousal, his dick was so painfully hard and it was hard to think straight. You didn’t want to stop and Rafe managed to convince you to let him fuck you raw.

You knew how fucking stupid you were and that he might easily get you pregnant, but at that exact moment, the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his bare cock.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. I wanna cum inside of your pretty pussy. Shit—you're squeezing me so hard, you like this idea, hm?” He kept slapping his hips against yours harder and harder, causing you to moan in despair and grip his shoulders. You tried to say no, but, in all honesty, you didn’t want to. The stretch was so delicious, and the feeling of his cock filling you completely made you feel dizzy. And having him cum inside? You could have an orgasm just thinking about it.

No more than thirty seconds later, when you finally reached your height, his cock twitched inside and Rafe let out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard. You felt liquid warmth covering your inside and moaned, squeezing and milking everything he could have you.

You were playing with fire and it was just a matter of time before everything would go wrong. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, you didn’t stop. Rafe was now obsessed with the feeling of being inside of you without a barrier; he could not help himself when he had you spread out in front of him, ready to be filled.

It was the best feeling that both of you experienced, but for some reason, you didn’t even try to find another form of contraception. You should have known better. You should have insisted on protection, but there was something intoxicating about the way he took you—the way he groaned your name as he filled you up. It was reckless, dangerous, and oh-so-addictive.

So it was not that big of a surprise when, just two months later, you saw two lines on the test.

You weren’t dating, even if it has always felt like much more than just sex, so you never expected Rafe to be happy about the possibility of having a baby. You thought he would end everything immediately and simply run away. Yet he was the complete opposite.

During your pregnancy, Rafe never left your side and made sure to attend every medical appointment, buy every single vitamin and satisfy all of your cravings.

You wanted to eat some weird shit from the store at 2am? He brought it to you in less than twenty minutes. Your body was aching and you didn’t want to do anything? He organised a spa day for you. You had terrible mood swings and cried every ten minutes? He was patient and he did everything he could to make you feel better.

You quickly fell into that kind of domestic routine. It was comfortable, and it felt right to have him beside you all the time. While your baby was growing inside of you, you both realised more with every passing day that the feelings that you two had were serious. Because you were on each other’s mind’s 24/7, you stayed in yours or his place all the time, and you couldn’t just keep your hands away.

When Rafe first felt your baby kick, he was over the moon and he had the biggest smile on his face. He repeatedly kissed your belly before falling asleep with his head on your thighs and his hand on your bump.

As soon as your little girl arrived in the world, Rafe completely fell into daddy mode. He was fussing over her, insisting on spending as much time with her as possible. He never complained when he had to change her diapers or wake up in the middle of the night because of her cries.

He is such a girl dad, and the moment she looked at him with her blue eyes, he was wrapped around her tiny finger.

Rafe loves being a dad; he loves taking care of his girls, even if you are still not officially his. He makes sure to do everything to make you feel comfortable and give you enough rest.

He may not be perfect in it, but he’s trying his best and he hasn’t regretted ever getting into this with you.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #baby daddy!rafe #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic

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mangooes · 4 months ago

Text

Winner takes it all (a kiss)

The Onychinus base had seen many things—ruthless mafia dealings, top-secret meetings, intense training sessions.

But tonight?

It was the game night.

As it is what (Name) declares it of.

The fireplace crackled, dimly lighting the lavish lounge where Sylus, (Name), Luke, and Kieran were gathered around the coffee table. Between them sat a colorful deck of Kitty Cards UNO—a game suspiciously similar to the regular kitty cards, but with far more chaotic rules.

And, of course, bets were placed.

Luke smirked. “Alright, rules are simple. Winner gets a prize of their choosing. Loser? Well…” He glanced at (Name) mischievously. “You just better hope it ain’t you, Missus.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Excuse me, I’m a strategic genius. I have years of experience with betrayal card games.”

Kieran snorted. “And yet, you’ve never beaten Boss.”

She shot Sylus a glare. “He cheats.”

Sylus, lounging lazily on the couch, smirked as he shuffled the deck effortlessly. “My my, such a sour loser, sweetie.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm not! I'm beating you this time Sysy!”

The man in response huffs out an amused rumble, his eyes glinting at the challenge.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first few rounds were absolute chaos.

Luke threw Draw Four cards at Kieran like his life depended on it.

Kieran retaliated with a Reverse card so violently that Luke stood up in protest.

(Name) was doing so well, smugly slapping down her cards with flair—until Sylus effortlessly dropped a Swap Hands card, stealing her entire winning hand.

Her jaw dropped.

“You—” she sputtered. “You sneaky, conniving,—”

Sylus merely smiled, resting his chin on his palm. “Sweetie, you should read the rules.”

Kieran wheezed. “Boss out here playing 4D chess while the missus plays Go Fish.”

'Oof' the sound of Kieran grunting could be heard as a pillow collides with his masked face.

Of course, seeing the sittuation (Name) had to fight back hard.

She stacked a +2 card, followed by another +2, aiming to make Sylus draw four.

But.

Of course.

Sylus casually placed a Skip card and looked at her smugly. “Oh no, kitten. Not today.”

She gasped.

The betrayal. The audacity.

Luke and Kieran? Hollering.

“Ohhh, Boss is stone-cold,” Luke laughed.

“Man said ‘Sit down.’” Kieran wiped a fake tear.

She gritted her teeth. She would not let this man win again.

But Sylus? Playing like a man possessed.

Within a few rounds, he was down to one card.

She, panicked, tried to stall. “Wait, wait! I need a moment to—”

“Kitty Card.” Sylus’s voice rang out as he slapped his final card down.

Silence.

Then—

Luke and Kieran exploded in cheers.

“Boss wins again! The king of Kitty Cards reigns supreme!”

Kieran was banging the table. “Another flawless victory! Man cannot be defeated!”

(Name)?

Devastated.

She fell back dramatically onto the couch. “NOOOO! I WAS SO CLOSE!”

Sylus merely chuckled, stretching leisurely. “Were you?”

She shot up. “Fine fine, you win. What’s your prize, then?”

Sylus’s crimson eyes glowed with amusement as he tapped his fingers against the armrest. “Hmm. Let’s see…”

Then, with obnoxious slowness, he turned to her.

She looked back in response, confused.

“It’s time I claim my prize,” he murmured. “To the person who placed last.”

She blinked. “Wait—”

Before she could react, Sylus grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into a deep, slow kiss.

Luke and Kieran? Absolutely losing their minds.

“WHOOO!”

“WE GOT A LIVE ONE!”

“GET A ROOM—OH WAIT, THIS IS YOUR HOUSE.”

(Name) was burning. “W-Wait! That wasn’t part of the bet!”

Sylus smirked against her lips. “It was my prize, kitten. A stolen kiss from my lovely wife, my rules.”

She shoved his face but couldn’t hide her grin.

Luke grinned. “Sooo, another round?”

Sylus leaned back, still holding his pretty little wife close to him.

“Sure,” he mused. “But don’t be surprised when I win again.”

(Name) narrowed her eyes.

Rematch.

It was on.

Even tho she knew that she will never win against him, maybe letting her sweet husband stealing kisses all the time isn't so bad after all.

IM SORRY FOR THE SHORT ONE ASDNSAKJDASN anyways its UNOO i played uno last night with my friends so i got inspired to make this. I'll revise this later as usuall if i find any mistakes and such askdnaks and also thank you for your requests!!! I've finished written one out of 10 hehe, I'll publish it later <3

#lnds #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #qin che #lads sylus #sylus

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dameronspector · 4 months ago

Text

How Sam reacts to you doing house chores when you are pregnant

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Sam and Reader are married, Mentions of pregnancy related stuff like cravings, belly bumps, doctors visits, joint pain, etc. that’s all I think.

AN: i saw a video on this and I was like I NEED to write this w Sam

“Woman!”

You jumped and dropped the mug which was luckily caught by Sam’s quick reflexes.

“What the hell, Sam! I told you not to sneak up on me like that!”, you scolded him.

“And I told you not to do shit around the house! Whatever happened to relaxing on the couch and calling me for help?”, he scolded you back, his face twisted in an incredulous expression.

You rolled your eyes.

“Sam, I’m pregnant. Not bed ridden. I can make myself a cup of tea”, you groaned.

As soon as he had discovered that your baby bump had popped out, he had turned into a helicopter parent. Always following you around the house to make sure you didn’t do anything “stressful”. Not that he wasn’t overprotective right from the moment you found out that you’re pregnant. But now that he could see it, he wanted you to stay seated and order him around (his words, not yours.)

Whenever he was away, he would drop you off at Sarah’s or call her over and he would ask her to keep an eye on you. You loved spending time with Sarah because she had all the experience and she would give you some important tips and cooked amazing food, satisfying your cravings.

If Sarah was busy, he would put Bucky on the job and honestly, he was just as bad because he had no clue what to do so he would treat you like you were the baby. You had banned him from putting Joaquin on the job because he’s a child himself and it makes you feel like you’re geriatric. Plus, you were not going to traumatise him with your unpredictable mood swings.

You were now in your 6th month and your bump was pretty big. Which means that Sam had put you on the bench for every little thing. It was endearing but also annoying because you loved to be independent.

“You’re 6 months pregnant, babe. You can barely walk without your back hurting. I don’t want you to put stress on your back or your bump”, he told you and put his arms around your shoulders to move you away from the counter. He squeezed your shoulders and began preparing your tea.

You sauntered over to him with a hand supporting your belly and leaned on his shoulder, murmuring a “You’re lucky you’re cute, Wilson”, into it before pressing a kiss on the same spot.

He let out his cheerful laugh and turned his head to kiss your temple.

You and Sam had just finished your dinner and you helped him carry the plates to the kitchen. He had not stopped you so far so you decided to push your luck.

You were about to put your plate down in the sink and turn on the faucet, when a hand turned it off and took your plate out of your hands.

“Nuh-uh. You’re out. Go sit on the couch”, he told you firmly.

You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and pouted at him.

“Please? Just this once-”

“Baby, no. It’s gonna put pressure on your belly and your legs. The little tyke is not the size of a bean anymore”, he explained before lovingly rubbing a palm over your belly.

You jutted your lower lip out and he looked at you fondly before kissing it with an audible ‘smooch’.

“Go sit down, honey. I’ll bring you the dessert. What you craving for today? We got the chocolate cake and the ice cream sundae.”

You fell for the bribe and immediately forgot about the dishes. You hummed thoughtfully and pursed your lips.

“How about both?”

Sam flashed his pretty gap-toothed smile.

“I like how you think, Wilson.”

You gave him a sweet smile and kissed him before waddling back to the living room.

You were bored out of your mind. You woke up feeling extra tired today and it must’ve been written all over your face because Sam had immediately told you to, ‘sit pretty and tell me what to do’.

But it’s been hours since you woke up and did nothing productive. You tried reading a book but you couldn’t get comfortable enough so you closed the book with a huff of frustration. You decided to take a walk around the house and you noticed that the laundry was yet to be done.

So you quietly picked up the clothes, put it into a basket and carried it to the laundry room. Sam was making lunch for you two so you hoped he’d be busy enough to not pay attention to you.

You started the washing machine and began putting the clothes in. Just as you were about to bend to pick up a shirt-

“Oh my god, what are you doing?!”

Sam.

You let out a deep sigh.

He rushed over to take away the shirt from your hands and steadied you with a hand on your back and his free hand holding one of yours. His face was twisted in panic.

“What were you doing? I told you to call me if you need anything. Just go and sit-”

“Yes! I know! I know you told me to let you know if I needed anything but, Sam! I’m bored. I’m so bored. I need to do something productive. Sitting and doing nothing for hours is making me more irritated and makes my body hurt. I need to move! Please, let me do this”, you whined in irritation and felt your eyes prick with tears.

Sam’s face softened as soon as he saw your tears and he hugged you, your belly pressing into his gently. He rubbed your back with a hand and held your head close with the other.

“I’m sorry, baby. But, doc has told us not to bend at the waist, yeah? What if you end up hurting your back? Or your knees? Your centrifugal force is kinda off right now with the baby”, he explains to you calmly and runs his hand through your hair.

You sniffled.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just need to do something. Anything. Can I help you with the lunch, atleast?”

He kissed your head and leaned his cheek on it before humming.

“Well, lunch is almost done. How about we go on a walk after that? We’ll get some ice cream and when we get back home, you can help me dry the dishes, how about that?”

You closed your eyes and buried your head in his neck.

“Yeah, okay”, you replied with a shaky voice and hugged him tighter.

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny, baby?”

“Centrifugal force? Since when do you have that in your vocabulary?”

He huffed over your head and poked your belly gently.

“Ha ha, very funny. I read!”

“Oh I’m sure, Sammy”, you broke into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up!”

AN: he’s so cute 💔 need to have his babies

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson x pregnant!reader #husband!sam wilson #marvel cinematic universe #sam wilson #captain america brave new world #fluff #marvel #dad!sam wilson x mom!reader

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knyontop · 11 months ago

Note

alr so I know you said platonic bowers gang, so I have a idea, basically them w a reader who isn’t in their school — like they met reader at the arcade or smth and the gang drags them around to hang out; their all touchy w reader cause that’s pratically their baby now !!

though the gang doesn’t want reader to know of what their actually like (which are bullies) .. to protect them of course, but maybe reader ends up finding out through accidentally stumbling upon where the gang (henry) was trying to carve his name into bens stomach ? the gang sees and then runs after reader to try and explain … I’ll leave the ending up to you honestly.

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

Let me explain…

THIS IS SO SMART I LOVE IT???

Yandere!platonic!Bowers gang x reader

Ft: Henry bowers, Patrick Hocksetter, Victor Criss, Belch Huggins, Ben (I forgot his last name), and our amazing, handsome, beautiful reader.

Tw: yandere stuff, possessive behavior, patrick, violence, remember this is yandere BOWERS GANG so bewareeeee!!

Y/N ran into the arcade excited to play, they were trying to beat there high score. They were so focused on getting there they weren’t aware of there surroundings and accidentally bumped into someone. Y/N muttered out a sorry but the person grabbed there wrist, “What the hell is wrong with you?” He said turning Y/N around to face him.

Y/N is meet face to face with Henry bowers, Y/N has heard about him but never really cared to look into it. He had an angered look on his face and Y/N quickly thought of a way to diffuse the situation. “Uh, im so sorry! I really didn’t mean to..” they said looking at the ground in shame.

Henry raised an eyebrow and let go of there wrist. “Oh. Its- Its fine.” He said, after he said that his eyes widened what did he just say? He wasn’t actually letting the kid off the hook? Really? That wasn’t like him at all! Something in him just felt bad for lashing out at the kid… he didn’t know why he felt this.

Y/N perked up and then smiled “Alright then! Well buh bye.” They said before scurrying off to find there favorite arcade game.

Belch put his hand on Henrys shoulder, “What the hell was that?” He asked his friend that was now staring in shock. “I dont even fucking know.” He said before getting himself together with a huff. “What a weird kid.” He said before turning back to his friends.

“We gonna do anything about em’? Ive never seen that twerp around here.” Patrick said crossing his arms. Victor then chimed in, “Yeah I mean im pretty sure we would know them if they were around here.” Henry groaned. “Can you all shut up? Why do we care about them?” Belch then looked at the kid that was far away from them playing an arcade game. “I dont know, they seem interesting.” Belch said. There was like something drawing him towards them, it was strange feeling of wanting to protect.

Y/N was to focused on there game to notice the four teenagers staring into the back of there head, poor child not knowing what was to come.

There fate was already sealed with the bowers gang.

Y/N had officially beat there high score, they smirked and exclaimed under there breath. “Yes!” They whispered to themselfs. They were feeling pretty hungry so they were going to ask there parents if they could go eat or something.

Y/N started walking to the exit but they tripped over something, they fell onto the floor but caught themselves with there hands. They gasped and turned to see what happened, they couldn’t have just tripped on air! They say a tall boy with black hair and a mischievous grin on his face.

“Heyyyy~ I ain’t seen you around here before, you new here?” He asked staring down at the kid, there were three other boys with him including the one boy they bumped into.

Y/N awkwardly rubbing the back of there neck embarrassed, “Im not new ive been here before…” they said before a boy with blonde platinum hair spoke up. “Oh, never seen you around school ether what school you go to?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

Y/N stood up brushing themselves off and fixing there ruffled clothes. “I uh go to [school name].” Then he spoke again. “Oh.” He said looking at the kid feeling some weird attachment to them.

“Well I must get going now, uh later?” They said before trying to walk away but the boy they bumped into earlier grabbed there wrist tightly. “Do you think you can just turn your back on us? Show some respect and look at us.” He said with a glare and the kid looked surprised at his hostility.

“Oh- im sorry?” They said unsure of what was going on, Patrick noticed they obviously had no idea who they were so they might as well have fun with it.

A bigger boy walked up to Y/N, “Dont worry about Henry, hes just being a bit of a dick right now.” He said nudging Henrys shoulder to tell him to knock it off not wanting Henry to scare the them away. “Im Belch, nice to meet you.” He said holding his hand out feigning innocence as if he wasn’t one of the local bullies.

Y/N chuckled nervously and took his hand shaking it before quickly re-tracing there hand. “Uh huh.” They said before the skinnier boy with platinum hair stepped forward. “Im Victor, and behind me is Patrick sorry if he didn’t make the best first impression.” He said glancing at his tall friend annoyed.

Y/N hummed nodding there head. “Its fine, totally not going to see him in my dreams tonight.” They said sarcastically making Patricks smirk grow.

“So uhm nice to meet you guys and ta tah now!” They said making an attempt to leave again before one of them would stop them, again.

Victor quickly blurted out a “Wait!” And stepped in front of them. “Hey, we just meet. It would be a shame if you left so soon.” He said as a grin pulled at his lips. “Okay is this what were doing?” They said before Patrick took there wrist and started dragging them with the group. “Were going to have a great time kid.” He said while poor Y/N just followed after them so confused of what they were getting themselves into.

These boys were strange, but Y/N couldn’t lie they had some fun hanging out with these reckless teenagers eventually getting comfortable with them but still having this gut feeling something was wrong so they pushed down away and continued hanging with the odd boys.

How naive you are Y/N.

Y/N was walking home from school, just skipping along listening to the birds chirp and feeling a sense of peace and freedom they haven’t felt in a while soon it was all interrupted by a screams that sounded to be a boy Y/N looked around to find out where the sound was coming from and immediately started running towards it trying to play hero.

They saw the four boys they were starting to call there friends surrounding a boy a tormenting him Y/N was to stunned to speak, they felt betrayed and stupid. They should have listened to there gut feeling, what was wrong with these boys!?

Victor out of the corner of his eye saw a familiar kid with H/C hair staring at the scene in shock and he immediately stopped what he was doing to look at them.

Patrick looked at Victors face and raised an eyebrow, he was annoyed that he stopped so he turned around to see what all the fuss was about and muttered “Shit.”

Belch looked at his friends and then saw Y/N, he let go of the kid he was holding down and hit Henrys shoulder.

Henry was pissed and turned around angrily to see the familiar face of Y/N, he froze and clenched his jaw.

Patrick started to approach them with a chuckle, “Dont be so surprised, everyone tried to tell you.” He said in an almost mocking tone taunting the kid for there stupidity of trusting them.

Y/N turned on there heel and started to run out of anger and sadness, they felt tears prick in there eyes at Patricks taunt. Why were they surprised?

Henry dropped his knife and took off after Y/N before any of the boys could think, he felt sweat start to drip down his forehead. Soon the other boys followed behind leaving the kid Ben to run for it.

Henry was able to catch up to Y/N quickly, he harshly turned them around and pushed them to the ground so they couldn’t start running again. This gave him a moment to catch his breathe, Victor then stepped forward speaking up. “Look, just let- let us explain.” He said putting his hands up in surrender.

“Explain? Explain what!? That you guys are horrible people? That you guys have lied to me? What is there to explain!” Y/N snapped not even making an effort to get up.

Victor winced and Patrick yawned, “I mean, I dont know what you were expecting kid. You were just to naive.” He said with a slight laugh, Belch punched his shoulder.

“Look Y/N we were just teasing! We weren’t actually going to hurt him.” Blech said trying to defuse the situation.

“Thats not teasing, Belch! Thats bullying!” They said getting up and glaring harshly at the boys.

“Its fun! Cmon Y/N, live a little.” Patrick said smirking, Henry then spoke up. “Y/N why do you even care about him? We didn’t even do anything to you!” Henry said getting up into there face. “You lied!” They said back, backing away from him.

“Yeah well, its not our fault your so naive and gullible.” He said harshly, ouch. Y/N raised there eyebrows. “What is wrong with you!” They raised there voice, Henry gripped there chin firmly. “What? What was that Y/N?” He said daring them to say it again.

Patrick watched this go on with satisfaction, they did need to be put in there place.

Belch didn’t stop Henry because he felt this was far, they needed to learn anyway.

Victor watched feeling justified, he felt hurt by there words so this was deserved in his eyes.

“Ever raise your voice at me, ever and there will be consequences, understood?” Henry said speaking to Y/N as if they were a kid who was in trouble.

Y/N, not wanting to upset Henry any further obeyed. “Understood Henry.” They said before Henry pushed them away. “Now, are you going to stop being a brat?” He asked crossing his arms, Y/N felt frustrated at this but who were they to defy him? “Yeah.” They said gulping down the anger they felt.

“Good.” Henry smiled satisfied with there answer.

“Your never getting away Y/N.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

I hope you liked it! :33 i feel rly nervous about this onedibhuibhdj

#bowers gang #it movie #x reader #platonic #bowers gang x reader #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere bowers gang #platonic yandere bowers gang #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #victor criss x reader #belch huggins x reader #yandere x reader #x teen reader #it x reader #it 2017

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affecti0nate · 2 months ago

Text

Morning sex.

Arnold x fem!reader.

Summary: Arnold barely is home due to his job. You both can never find time for the two of you to spend some quality time with each other until one more you take matters into your own hands.

Content: Smut/ Soft morning sex/ praise/ vaginal intercourse/ aftercare/ Arnold is DOWN bad/ slightly submissive/ fluffy sweet stuff/ quickie?/ Backshots/ fingering/ breeding/ Angry talk/ Arnold briefly being mad about his job/ not fully proofread whoops!/ Baby talk.

Notes: I looked everywhere for some information on Arnold but NOTHING...We know he is an adult so hip hip! I'm gonna go off based on what we know or what I've seen people say online..gulp! Also i haven't seen anyone else thirst over this man?? HE IS SO MM and i don't even know what he looks like it's just the voice man..yummers. I also tried to make how Arnold look up to the readers so he doesn't have a physical description.

It was only five in the morning. The sun was starting to come up and the moon was slowly fading away. You were fast asleep next to the man you had married nearly 3 years ago.

You had spent those three years loving him. You didn't know how long it had been since he worked for Fazbear entertainment but you knew it was long.

He would come home late at night or around one in the morning extremely tired. Some nights if you were lucky he got off early and you two got to spend a real night together talking.

You had stirred in your sleep as you felt your eyes begin to open as you heard the sounds of clothes moving together and light cursing. You knew it was Arnold getting ready for work.

It was a Thursday and you wanted him to stay home just for once. he had been working longer shifts for some extra money. You felt bad because you knew he made enough to cover both of you.

But recently the talk of children had came up. On Sunday night you had made a joke about having a child as your friend, Nicole had just had her baby. You told Arnold maybe one day you guys could start a family and welcome a baby into the world.

Little did you know Arnold had thought about it all week. You were a pretty woman. You were independent and didn't take bullshit lightly. It was a shocker to some people when you fell in love with Arnold, it was a shocker to him also.

It would cross his mind randomly during work how you would look pregnant, How pretty you would look and how you would have to depend on him for small tasks. But there was the process...

You see, You and Arnold hadn't fucked in what felt like weeks on weeks. Sure the both of you could touch yourself but it didn't hit the same. But now you realized you had a chance.

Arnold was buttoning up his pants when he heard you roll over and look at him. You sat up slowly as you rubbed your face and yawned. "Sorry..Did I wake you up?" he asks while looking in your vanity as he fixed his pants.

You shook your head no as you looked over at the nightstand at the alarm clock. It was only 5:15 at this point in time and you knew you only had a couple of minutes to get your plan into motion. It was simple plan.

"Getting ready for work already?" You ask with a sad smile. Arnold nodded as he fixed up his hair. "Yes honey, I wish I could stay but..Money is money" He says while looking back at you as he went to the closet to grab a plain shirt.

You moved the blanket off of you as you stood up. Last night, You had already started putting the plan into motion by wearing a slightly thin silk nightgown black nightgown to bed. You stretched as you yawned.

"I don't get why you take up so many shifts" You said while turning around to make up the bed. Arnold had turned to look at you over his shoulder but had stopped mid way when he noticed what you had on.

He felt his mouth open slightly as he clenched the shirt in his hands a little tightly. Your tits were pressed together as you moved the blanket back into its proper spot. They moved when you fluffed your pillow and sat nicely when you stood up straight to admire your work.

"Arnold? Dear, You're staring" You giggle while walking around the bed to his side. You repeated the same routine but a little slower this time, Almost like you were teasing him. The nightgown rode up slightly as you pulled the blanket up and smoothed it out.

your hips swayed as you fluffed up his pillow. you stood up straight as you put your hands on your hips admiring your work before turning to look at him.

"Baby, You should finish getting ready" You say while moving towards him. He looked down at the shirt in his hands before snapping back into it. "Uh yeah, I should get finished" He said while moving to put the shirt over his head.

"Or you could be a little late" You suggest while placing your hands on his chest and moving them down slowly. "I miss you" You added while stopping just above the pants of his pants.

He took in a deep breathe as you put in both of your pointer fingers in the band of his pants while tugging at them. "I miss feeling you" you add while looking up at him through your lashes. Arnold barely was able to fully put his shirt on before stopping and taking it off and tossing it somewhere.

Arnold gritted his teeth together as he moved to place his hands on your waist. "fuck.."he whispered as you moved to unbutton his pants. "Do you want me to stop?' You asked while stopping. He shook his head no. "No, Please keep going" He said quietly.

You smiled as you unbuttoned his pants . "I thought about having a baby with you all week" You say while pushing down his pants. You palmed him through his boxers as he whimpered.

"y-yeah?" He asked while you nodded and moved to take off his boxers. "Yeah. I thought about it all week long. You would make a great dad" You said while smiling.

Arnold felt all the blood rush to his dick as he let out a breathe of air. You held his dick in your hands. You rubbed it as you watched the way he gripped your waist harder.

"Mhm, You would make a great mom" He said while moving forward. You took a step back as you took your hands from his dick. "What time do you have to be at work?" you asked while wrapping your hands around his neck.

"6:30." he said while rubbing the sides of your waist. You nod while pressing a kiss on his cheek. "You always look the best when you just wake up...We don't get any time together" You say while stepping back as you drag him to the bed.

The both of you fall onto it as you pull him closer to press your lips against him. The kiss felt sweet and minty, A clear sign he had freshly brushed his teeth. You pull him closer as you open your legs which allowed him to slot himself in between your legs.

You opened them to make room for him as you moaned into his mouth. He pulled away to look at your face. He took in everything feature on your face.

"I want the baby to have most of your facial features. God you look like art" he said while pressing a kiss on your cheek. You giggle as you run your fingers through his hair.

"I'm being so serious...You make me wonder how you saw me attractive" he said while placing a hand on your thigh. "I liked how pretty you looked when you tried to make it look like you weren't staring at me in the store" You said while admiring every single feature in his face.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have a baby with you" He said before moving his hand towards your lower area. You giggle as you watch his face shift when he realized you didn't have on underwear.

He slipped his finger up and down your slit, Collecting the wetness. You shivered as you watched the way he was focused. He moved his hand to play with your clit as you held back a moan.

"Let it out..I wanna hear you" He begs while you let out a soft moan. He smiled as he went a little faster, His fingers getting more and more wet. You squirmed as you began to pant.

"Fuck! Oh my god. I can't" You moaned out while grabbing at the blanket besides you. You felt something enter you which made you really lose it.

You grabbed at his shoulder as you clawed at it. He began to pump the finger in and out of you. You wanted more and you needed more soon or you would lose it.

"Arnold...B-baby fuck! I want more" You whined out as you looked at him with begging eyes. He leaned a little closer as he added in a second finger. At this point in time you felt closer to cumming.

"Oh my gosh i'm gonna cum!" You moan out as he picks up the pace. You shake your head as you let out a big moan while releasing. He didn't stop though if anything he went a little faster.

"Fuck I missed this" He said while watching the way you began grabbing at his wrist. "Please I need you inside me" You whine out as he slowly takes his fingers out of you. "yeah?" he says while he looks over at the clock.

it was only 5:30 now. Arnold had stood up straight as he twirled his finger. You had an instant idea of what he was implying and moved to get on your hands and knees. It wasn't like arnold didn't mind missionary but from the back was something you both liked.

Arnold has moved your nightgown so it rested at your waist. You pushed your ass up a little higher. "I could never get tired of this view" He said while pumping his dick, Using whatever you left on his fingers to get it semi wet.

He grabbed your hips as he took one of his hands to line it up with your hole. You knew it would hurt because you hadn't had sex in weeks. You took in a deep breath and grabbed at the blanket once again.

Arnold did his best to slip in as slow as he could. You hissed and bit at the blanket while Arnold let out a let whimper. You felt yourself tighten up when you heard the noise he let out.

You missed hearing his soft whimpers or grunts. You pushed yourself back onto his dick. "Fuck" You whined out while starting to move your hips back and fourth.

Arnold let out all the sounds he could make flow out as he began to thrust into you. You missed the way he took his time with fucking you and even right now when you both had to be on a time crunch.

You whined as he began to speed up the pace. You looked back at him watching the way he had his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. "Fuck, (Y/n)! You feel so good just like I remember" He said while looking down and making eye contact with you.

"I missed this. Stupid fucking job taking up all my time" He pants out while going a little harder. Like he was fucking his frustrations into you. "Yeah? I missed you more" You say while moving one of your hands underneath you as you began to rub your clit.

"Mhm, I always think about you...Think about what you're doing, How you look..." he says while going a little faster. At this point he was basically just fucking you into the mattress. You were moaning louder and louder as the pleasure took over your body.

"I wanna get you pregnant. Start a family and live out the rest of my life at a different job" He says while looking down at you. "Wanna make your dream come true. I'll quit my job and find a better one" He adds while you nod.

You felt your lower area get tighter. You were sensitive from your last orgasm so it added to the pleasure. You felt like you were on cloud nine. You had your mouth open to the point you felt drool leak out the side of your mouth.

"I'm gonna cum soon" Arnold said while clenching onto your waist. You felt close also. Your eyes glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 5:45. You moaned as you felt yourself cum. You shook slightly and squirmed as Arnold still kept his fast pace and harsh thrusts.

"Fuck! too much" You say while feeling tears form as you began to get overstimulated. "I'm right there, I promise baby" He said while moving to hold your hand.

You let him as you felt your eyes roll back. Arnold began to stutter in his thrusts and more whimpers came out as he stopped and held onto your hand. "Oh fuck!" Was the only thing you heard from him besides the whining when you felt him cum inside of you.

You moaned as you came for a third time, The feeling was enjoyable as you whined. The both of you took a second to attempt at catching your breath. You pushed back on him as his tip hit your spot making the both of you whimper.

Arnold slowly pulled out, A small plopping sound as you instantly felt his cum seep out. Arnold was quick to use his fingers to scoop it back up and shove it inside of you making you jump.

"Sorry" He whispered while stepping back and looking at the sight. He knew that if he looked any longer he wouldn't wanna leave. "I need to finish getting ready...after I take care of you" He said while pulling up his underwear and pants.

You gave him a weak thumbs up as you tried to sit up. It was no use as the upper half of your body was basically numb. You laid on your side as you waited for your husband to come clean you up.

You heard him come back and you felt a wet cloth begin to clean you up. "I love you" He said while moving your dress down and placing the cloth on the nightstand. He made you stand up as he changed the blanket for a much cleaner one.

You laid down on his side of the bed as you watched him zip up the green jumpsuit he wore to work and put on his gloves. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He said while pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. You nodded as you looked at the clock one last time. 6:00.

you smiled as you watch Arnold turn off any remaining lights as he gave you one last look before blowing you a kiss and leaving out of the bedroom door, cracking it slightly.

You laid there as you smiled while turning to face the window. You finally got to spend some nice quality time with your husband and it was really worth it.

#fnaf secret of the mimic #fnaf secret of the mimic x reader #fnaf arnold #fnaf arnold x reader #fnaf secret of the mimic arnold x reader #x reader #x reader smut #smut #fnaf secret of the mimic arnold

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saveyourblood · 4 months ago

Text

Pretty Boy - Ch 18 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck’s hands trail down to your hands. He takes his in yours. “Do you love him?” “Buck.” “I know you love me,” Buck continues, playing with your fingers. “You know I love you. But I’m asking if you love him.” The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17

(Gif by me) Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: *are spoilers*, listed at the end

Adrenaline replaces your blood. An unpleasant sensation washes over you. The same three words keep bouncing between your ears.

Buck is dead.

Buck is…

“V-tach!” Someone shouts. “Everyone clear!”

Buck’s chest jolts upwards as the shock is administered.

“We got a pulse!”

You heave out a breath. You feel helpless as they wheel him away.

“H-he has a history of blood clots,” you eventually call out. “He’s not on any medications, but he’s allergic to naproxen.”

“Got it,” A doctor calls in response, “we’ll do our best.”

“Do more!” Eddie shouts as they turn the corner.

You turn to Eddie, limbs numb from shock. “What the hell happened?”

“It was so quick,” Eddie whispers, still staring straight ahead. “One second, he was up on the ladder, and the next, he was just… dangling. He was dead.”

You set a careful hand on Eddie’s shoulder, which prompts him to pull you into a hug.

“He’s gonna be okay,” you whisper.

You don’t know what you’ll do if he isn’t.

Buck awakens slowly, blinking a few times before fully opening his eyes.

“It’s about time,” you say softly.

Buck figures out quickly that he’s in a hospital; the air is stale, his usual pajamas are replaced by a gown, and the sheets beneath him are stiff instead of soft. The only problem is, he doesn’t know why he’s in the hospital. If anything, he should be there for you, since your due date is quickly approaching.

“What happened?” Buck asks, rubbing his forehead as he slowly comes to.

“You fell off a ladder, hit your head. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything too serious. Daniel will be back with your discharge papers.”

“...Daniel? My brother?”

You were there for Buck when he learned about his older brother. He has no clue why you’re talking about him now.

“...yeah?” you say with a confused smile. “I’m going to start packing stuff up.”

You stand up, and Buck’s eyes widen.

“You’re not pregnant,” he whispers.

“Thank god for that,” you laugh out, putting a few things into your purse.

“W-what happened?” Buck chokes out. “D-did you… oh, god…”

“What? Whoa, hey!” You spin around, quickly moving to Buck when you see how panicked he is. “Baby, I was pregnant. Two years ago.”

Buck lets out a sigh of relief. “Katie.”

You smile, setting your hands on his cheeks. “Yes, Katie, our daughter. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Buck has a daughter. He’s never been more okay in his life. He relaxes, running his hands up and down your arms.

“What about Eddie?”

Your smile turns into one of confusion. “What about Eddie?”

“How… How is he?” Buck asks dumbly.

You shrug, your hands falling to your sides. “No clue. I haven’t talked to him since be moved back to Texas.”

Buck’s head feels like it’s spinning. “...huh?”

“His parents got full custody of his kid, and he moved to Texas to be closer to them,” you explain casually. “You don’t remember that?”

How can you sound so calm about it? Eddie is a huge part of both of your lives. Hell, he’s one of Katie’s parents … isn’t he?

“We… we’re not… he didn’t…”

Buck cuts himself off with a few gasps. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs feel constricted. He’s panicking, and he has no idea how to stop it.

“We need a nurse!” Eddie shouts before you can.

You’re supposed to be one in a few months, but you’ve never felt so out of your depth. You had a single lecture about ventilators in nursing school, most of which you didn’t retain. All you see is that the top bar — the volume of air delivered — is alarming. You see Buck’s chest rapidly rising and falling.

“Buck, if you can hear me, you need to breathe, okay?” you whisper in his ear as you run a hand over his face. “Just breathe, baby.”

A few nurses rush in, and you step back before they have to push you out of the way.

“His sats are dropping,” one nurse notes while the other puts a stethoscope to Buck’s chest. “We need to take him off and a bag him.”

You keep backing up until you hit something. A pair of strong arms wrap around you, one resting across your chest while the other cradles your stomach. Eddie.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Eddie whispers in your ear.

All you can do is grip his arm like a lifeline.

“Buck, can you hear me? …Buck!”

Buck looks around, his eyes landing on you.

“Where’d you go, babe?” you chuckle.

“Sorry, I was… I don’t know. Sorry.”

The details come back to him slowly: his parents and Daniel came over for family dinner, along with Maddie, her daughter, and her husband. Her daughter and husband, Genevieve and Doug. A bitter taste fills Buck’s mouth.

“I can’t believe she stayed with him,” he says quietly. “He’s gonna kill her.”

You sigh sadly as you gather some plates. “I think I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told her that. I mean, hell, we work in an ER together, for god’s sake. She’s seen what men are capable of. I know leaving is easier said than done, but…”

Buck’s memories are hazy, only occasionally coming into focus. As you turn on the sink, he studies you.

“You’re a nurse,” he says.

“Sure am,” you return. “It’s not like that’s how we met, or anything.”

Oh, yeah. Buck stopped by after school let out to check up on a student he had to call EMS for. The poor girl had a seizure, scared the crap out of her classmates. She had already transferred to the pediatric floor for monitoring by the time he got there, but in the ER, he ran into you. He asked Maddie for your number, and the rest was history.

A student… Buck’s a teacher. 5th…? No, 6th grade. On his first date with you, he explained that 6th grade is the best because you get to see children growing into their personalities before the awkward teenage years. God, he loves his job. He knows you love yours, too, and though they aren’t in the same profession, it’s something you both quickly bonded over.

“Just testing you,” Buck jokes.

You face him with a hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. His brows knit closer together ever so slightly. You pick up on it.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly.

“Something feels… off,” Buck replies, unsure of how else to phrase it. “It’s like all the pieces of a puzzle are falling into place, but one is missing.”

“Poetic,” you remark.

“I’m serious,” Buck insists. “...Why did he move away?”

You sigh as you move your hands down to Buck’s shoulders. “We’re not seriously talking about Eddie again, are we?”

“It just… feels like it never really ended, right? Like he’s a loose end.”

“Oh, he’s something alright,” you scoff as you turn back towards the sink and start washing dishes.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You set down a plate with a clatter. “You remember what he did, Evan: he almost destroyed us.”

A little while after Eddie’s shooting, the three of you sat down and wrote your Advanced Directives and assigned each other as Power of Attorneys in case of… well, something exactly like this. So when Dr. Becker asks to speak to you and Eddie privately, you know it’s to discuss further treatment options.

Turns out, there aren’t very many. They already have him on a paralytic drip to keep him compliant with the ventilator, but his lungs still aren’t pulling good tidal volumes. She says that proning— or laying him on his stomach — could maybe improve things, but considering the cause of his respiratory failure, it’s unlikely.

“...which leaves us with Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation as our best option.”

“ECMO?” you ask.

ECMO is another topic you had a singular lecture on, but you know enough to know it’s not good. You also know it’s not good because you, Eddie, Dr. Becker, and Buck’s nurse are all sitting in a secluded conference room. You don’t get good news in a hospital conference room.

Dr. Becker nods. “It would be Veno-Venous, meaning it bypasses the lungs instead of the lungs and the heart.”

Eddie nods a little. “Well, that’s… good, right? I mean, bypassing one organ sounds better than bypassing two.”

You keep staring at Dr. Becker. “There’s something you’re not saying.”

Eddie frowns, glancing between the two of you. “What? What aren’t you saying?”

Dr. Becker sighs. “ECMO is known as a ‘Hail Mary’ in the world of medicine.”

That’s how you remember your instructor phrasing it — ECMO is an absolute last-ditch effort. It’s only considered when every other option has been explored.

“It’s not a cure: it’s a bridge,” you say, trying (and failing) to keep your voice level.

“It can give him the time his lungs need to heal,” Dr. Becker explains.

“And if it doesn’t, he’d need a transplant,” you continue. “And if he can’t get a transplant…”

“...he would stay on ECMO indefinitely.”

“...Or he would…” you start but cut yourself off with a sob. You clasp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to take a breath. “...or he would die.”

The words don’t sit right on your tongue. Your lips twist as they make their way out, like you ate something sour.

Dr. Becker’s face stays even, but you catch a glimpse of something in her eyes: pity. “Yes.”

You scoot back in your chair, making a break for the door. The protests of Dr. Becker and Eddie make it to your ears but not your brain. All you can focus on is the bile that’s climbing to the back of your throat.

You slam open the door of a single-stall bathroom, barely able to lock it before you collapse to your knees in front of the toilet. You gag several times, only spit and stomach acid eventually making their way up. Now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you ate something.

You eventually sit on the floor, resting your head against the tile wall. You take a few breaths, rubbing your palm over your chest. Then, you feel a sudden gush between your legs. Against your better judgment, you stay seated, eyes wide and heart pounding.

No. No, no, no. Not now. Not with everything going on.

Not without him.

Eddie said he was in love with you, and you said you were dating Buck. Buck’s pretty sure that’s part of why he moved to Texas: to get away from you. Something about it doesn’t sit right in his stomach.

“That’s not how it was supposed to happen,” Buck murmurs, setting his hands on the counter and leaning into it.

“How exactly was it supposed to happen?” you counter, placing your left hand close to his.

Buck sees a ring. It’s a diamond, probably not a real one, but it looks convincing enough. His eyes move to his own left hand, and sure enough, a gold band is wrapped around his fourth finger.

“We’re married,” he says, almost inaudibly.

“You proposed after a year,” you recall fondly. “I thought you were crazy, but… it’s our five-year anniversary next week.”

Buck should be happy. He should be overjoyed, really — he has everything he’s ever wanted. He has a beautiful wife, an amazing daughter, and a fulfilling career. Still, his gut twists and turns.

“He was in love with you,” Buck eventually says.

“And I’m in love with you,” you state, “so nothing else matters.”

“But it does,” Buck argues, pushing against the counter until he’s standing up straight. “It does matter.”

“Why?” you frown. “Eddie is long gone, Buck. That chapter of our lives has been closed for a while.”

“It’s not supposed to happen like this!” Buck shouts.

You go still, swallowing. “What does that mean?”

“It’s… it’s supposed to be the five of us!” Buck says as he starts to pace. “It’s supposed to be me, you, and him, raising Katie and Chris.”

You look at him like he’s speaking French. “What the hell are you talking about, Buck?”

Buck halts his pacing and turns to you. “Are you in love with him?”

You snort. “What?”

“Are you in love with him?” He repeats.

“Buck, I love you,” you counter.

“I know you do, and you know I love you,” Buck says, a sense of deja vu washing over him, “but I’m asking if you love him.”

You and Eddie ultimately consent to the ECMO cannulation. Buck’s struggled his whole life, and he’s always taken it in stride. He deserves the chance to walk away from this.

That being said, he drew some strong lines in the sand in his Advanced Directives, and you and Eddie have no intentions of erasing them. Buck specifically refused the placement of a tracheostomy and gave a general timeline of two weeks for his status to improve before medical efforts should be ceased. He also said that if at any point it’s suspected he won’t make a meaningful recovery, care should be withdrawn. You’re not at that point yet, but with each hour, you can feel it getting closer.

You went home after agreeing to the cannulation, too emotionally and physically exhausted to stick around. Besides, Chris should have at least one of his parents send him off to school that morning. You briefly explained Buck’s condition and that children aren’t allowed to visit in the ICU before kissing his cheek and seeing him off for the day.

When you finally get a chance to change, you notice the gush you felt earlier; it’s the ‘bloody show’ your OB warned you about. It’s a mix of the mucus plug and some frank blood, normally passed anywhere from days to hours before active labor. You still have time.

Then, as if the universe is playing a trick on you, you feel a contraction.

You lean against the dresser, inhaling slowly. Braxton Hicks are noticeable, but they’re short, normally lasting only a few seconds. By the time you’re done exhaling, it’s over. Or… it should be over. This one continues.

“Come on, Katie,” you mumble, rubbing up and down your tight belly, “not now.”

You count to twenty before the contraction ceases. The paramedic part of your brain screams, but the overly tired part takes over. You don’t panic. You don’t call Eddie. You don’t call anyone.

You go to sleep.

“It… it doesn’t matter,” you repeat, tripping over the words.

“It doesn’t?” Buck challenges. “Because I love him.”

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper.

The look on your face hurts Buck’s heart. Still, he persists.

“This isn’t how this is supposed to happen,” Buck says softly. “This… it isn’t real.”

“Buck, I love you,” you cry. “We have a family.”

“This isn’t real,” Buck repeats, mostly to himself. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his hands in his hair.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t —

When he opens his eyes, there’s nothing. Quite literally, nothing. All Buck can see is black. He takes a step forward, almost expecting the ground to ripple beneath him. It doesn’t.

He starts running. He doesn’t know if he’s running away from something or towards something, but either way, he’s running. Normally, he’d run until he was out of breath. That doesn’t seem to happen, though, so he just keeps putting one foot in front of the other.

“You figured it out,” a voice cuts into his head.

Buck spins around. There’s no one there.

“You were always too smart for your own good.”

The voice is familiar, and not in a comforting way, like the softness of an overworn hoodie. It’s more like being haunted by a ghost.

“You could’ve been happy.”

“It wasn’t real!” Buck shouts into the void.

“It could’ve been,” the voice counters. “If only you’d let it.”

You get back to the hospital later that evening. You plan on switching out with Eddie. What you don’t plan on is seeing Christopher in the waiting room.

“Buddy, what are you doing here?” You ask.

Hen shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but he insisted on coming.”

“I need to see Buck,” Chris replies. “I have to talk to him.”

“They don’t let kids in the ICU, Chris,” you say softly.

“I don’t care!”

You sigh, running a hand down your face.

“...Maybe we can find a workaround,” Hen offers.

By some miracle, Hen distracts the nurse long enough for you to sneak Christopher into Buck’s room. Eddie’s eyes widen as he stands up, approaching you both.

“I couldn’t say no,” you say weakly with a shrug.

You both watch as Christopher takes a few steps forward, looking at all the devices.

“Is he sleeping?” He asks.

“Something like that,” Eddie responds, voice thick.

“He’s resting, so the machines can do all the work to make him feel better,” you explain.

Chris nods. “Can he hear me?”

You look over at Eddie, who’s wiping away a few tears.

“I bet he can,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to stay level.

“Hey, Buck. It’s Christopher. I know you’re sick, but it’s only temporary. You’re going to be okay,” Chris says, reaching out to touch Buck’s arm. “Wherever you are, you have to come back.”

Wherever you are right now, you have to come back.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Buck says. He doesn’t know if he’s talking to the voice or to himself.

“You can’t go back,” the voice says. “It’s too late.”

“I’m running out of time,” Buck says quietly.

He catches something in the corner of his eye. He turns around to face a mirror. It has to be a mirror — he’s staring at himself.

“You’re dying,” the voice says. Only, it isn’t a voice; it’s his reflection. “Turns out, your parents were right: you aren’t invincible. Weren’t, I guess.”

“This isn’t how it ends,” Buck argues weakly. “I have a family out there.”

“What, your parents?” His reflection scoffs. “The people so caught up in grieving their son that they forgot they still had one left? Or your sister, who’s so busy with her own kid that she won’t even notice you’re gone?”

Buck doesn’t like this version of himself. It’s probably who he’d become had he never joined the 118. It isn’t even Buck… it’s Evan.

“My family,” Buck argues. “My partners. My son. My daughter.”

“It’s sad she’ll never get to meet you,” Evan says, tilting his head. “It’s probably easier that way, though. The other three… that one’s gonna hurt.”

In a mere twelve hours, Buck turns a corner. The ECMO is already titrated down to a level that could warrant decannulation. They discontinued the paralytic and are currently running a spontaneous breathing trial, which involves Buck doing all the work of breathing. He’s an hour in and doing great.

You sit in an armchair beside his bed, picking at a sandwich Eddie got you from the cafeteria. You feel Eddie set his hands on your shoulders.

“You have to eat something, mi amor,” He murmurs as he kneads your neck muscles.

You let out a sigh, setting the sandwich aside and leaning into his touch. Then, you hiss out a breath and grab your stomach involuntarily.

Eddie’s hands stall. “Is that a contraction?”

You close your eyes as you focus on your breathing. You feel Eddie brush past your arm, and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling in front of you.

“Don’t worry, they’re still 15 minutes apart.”

“...You’ve been having them regularly?!”

“15 minutes means I’m still in latent labor, not active.”

“You’re in labor, ” Eddie parrots, standing back up.

“Yeah, and I’m not having her until we know Buck is okay,” you say definitively.

Eddie runs his hands down his face. “How long have you been in labor?”

“...15 hours, I think.”

Eddie’s eyes widen.

“People can be in latent labor for days , Eddie,” you argue. “Besides, I checked myself earlier, and I’m only like, three centimeters dilated.”

“You…” Eddie cuts himself off with a heavy sigh.

“This is not a big deal!”

“How is this not a big deal?!”

“Because I’m not having her until Buck is okay,” you repeat.

It doesn’t make sense. The rational part of your brain knows that. However, the rational part of your brain is taking a hiatus. In its place is an irrational, scared shitless pregnant woman running rampant with hormones. You simply cannot fathom Buck not being there for his daughter’s birth. And so, you don’t.

“Babe…” Eddie says, exasperated.

“What?” you say, standing up. “We probably have days before we need to worry about this. Lets focus on Buck for now.”

Eddie’s eyes trail from your face down to your legs. “Babe.”

“What?” you huff.

“Your water just broke.”

You look down. Your pants are stained with an obvious wet spot, and you can feel something cold trickling down your leg.

“...Fuck.”

Warnings: mild depictions of early child labor/childbirth

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #Buddie x reader #buddie x reader #pretty boy fic #i can write

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bobur-the-berry-guy · 3 months ago

Note

hi!!!! headcanons for mogari was good, it's so yummy ty <33 do you have any thoughts about confession headcanons for main four + ichimiya (if you don't mind ofc!!)? ty anyway! :3

•OHMYGOD IF I TELL U I WAS ALREADY MAKING IT IN THE DRAFTS WHEN U ASKED AHHHH I LOVE REQUESTS

ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗAlso I'm playing around w the formatting do we fw it

Anyway we're on the same wavelength anon, i hope you and whoever is reading enjoys these 😼

Phantom busters confessions!

•Ft. Mogari, Eugene, Kaoru, Tamon, Ichimiya

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•🌺•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Moragi

ᯓ★୭˚ Poor dude just got out of his prison of a household and went head first in the real world with zero actual experience, how do you think he'd deal with a crush?!

ᯓ★୭˚ In all honesty, it would take him a while to realize. He would just think you're a great friend and-- wait, what do you mean it isn't normal for your friends to give you heart palpitations or for your throat to dry up when they give you a hug.. sure, none of his other friends make him feel like that but that doesn't mean there's anything too different about you, right?

ᯓ★୭˚ Yeah, he'd take his time. Let him be. He's still figuring it out. Most likely someone from the phantom busters club would point it out to him to try and make fun of him but Mogari is surprisingly chill with it. Yeah, he has a crush, so what?

ᯓ★୭˚ Truth be told, you could probably catch on it but then again Moragi is.. Moragi. You can't tell uf he's into you or he's being his weird self.

ᯓ★୭˚ They can try to tease him all they want, but he doesn't feel shame. What he feels is mild confusion - how is he supposed to go about this? What do people do when they have their crush figured out? How do they tell their crush likes them back? There are specific ways to confess?? What???

ᯓ★୭˚ He's coached by his friends on how to do it - all in vastly different ways. Eugene is the most practical but.. Moragi doesn't think he absolutely has to have it all planned out and everything, right? Tamon is a great listener, but he has.. zero experience. He has seen what other people have done and tell so, but then again that's just hwat he's seen. And Kaoru gives full romance manga scenarios. The rain and only one umbrella, the sick episode, confession under a cherry tree - the woks. And Moragi, bless his soul, takes everything all they say to heart. And he thinks he's got it all figured out - practical, romantic, what he thinks would be a good confession in your eyes and most importantly tweaked with his own things to feel more him, you know?

ᯓ★୭˚ He's got this! He's hyped, he's the man, he's the boss— and it goes all but the way he planned. But really, what else do we expect?

──★°`🌙.*♪!! Moragi's got it all planned. He's not sure why exactly he needs the plan, but his friends said it would make you happy so who is he to not believe them?

This whole day you've been together. Originally it should've been the whole friend group hanging out, but everyone other than Moragi mysteriously bailed so it was just the two of you.

It was definitely not a boring day. Its just that everything he planned pretty much got obliterated in front of his eyes. He slipped and fell in the cute little cafe and got his drink all over him, which you had to help him wash out after. He got confused on the directions and had you both lost for a good half an hour. Went to the arcade to show off only to have you eat him with thr rags at the games there. What else could go wrong?!

At least you seem to be having fun.

Right now you're at the beach - just sitting, staring at the waves and chatting away. This whole day you've been walking around and going places and he hopes he's doing it right. It feel so foreign to him - since when does he feel nervous??

According to what the boys helped him plan, he should confess when he's walking you home. The smartest move, they said. But how should he do it?? What exactly should he say? What—

"hey, Moragi.."

Suddenly your voice takes him out of his deep thought. You're staring back at him quietly as if you're trying to gauge something.. Were you saying something important before that?

"... You've been so weird the whole day. You can tell me what's up, you know?"

He's staring at you stupidly. His mouth acts before his thoughts do.

"I like you. Like, like like you."

Silence.

"For a while now. I can't stop thinking about you. It's like you're just.. always there. The boys helped me make a plan up on.. y'know, how to tell you. That's why i took you so many places today. Maybe that's why I'm acting like a dumbass too. I was supposed to tell you that while walking you home but... yeah...."

More silence.

He's staring at your bewildered face, trying to read your what's happening in your head. Did he fuck up? Did he do something wrong?? Why are you just staring—

"Pffff.. you made a whole plan??"

That silence is filled with laughter now. Your laughter. You're cackling as if this is the funniest thing to ever happen to you. Trying to compose yourself and catch your breath, you speak trough the laughing fit.

"You know, Moragi.. you could've just, i don't know, told me? Without this whole thing?? I like you back anyway. Still thanks though. It's cute to see you put so much effort into it."

Despite the fact he's trying to play it cool or as cool as he can anyway, you can see he's clenching his fist in victory. What a dork.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Eugene

ᯓ★୭˚ May the gods be with his because they know he needs it.

ᯓ★୭˚ You've captured his heart and he only catches on after it's already too late to rationalize his brain out of being horribly down bad. He won't deny havign a crush on you but it makes his brain turn into a pudding and his thought process derails.

ᯓ★୭˚ His realization would be gradual - first he'd see you as intriguing, then you're a dear friend.. and suddenly he's having real funny thoughts. He could write off the way your eyes reflect the sunlight like a suncatcher as just an observation or the sudden image of him kissing you like you're the air he breathes as an impulse thought.. but really, how long would it take until he seen that these thoughts aren't just a one-off thing? That's when he knows he's got it real bad.

ᯓ★୭˚ He'd wait. He's paying attention and making sure you probably like him back before he does anything. After all, why would he do something if he isn't sure there's at least some chance it would be worth it? So he waits ans observes how you act, what you do and what you do and don't tell him. And once he believes you could like him back he's cooking up a plan.

ᯓ★୭˚ He might drop some hints he could be into you, but he'd let the game of plausible deniability do it's work.

ᯓ★୭˚ He wants to do it face to face. If he wants it to work he needs to have the balls to do it. Still he keeps most of it simple - he doesn't want you to catch on. Maybe. I mean, it wouldn't be too bad for you to have an inkling of something about to happen between you two, but he plans on keeping it under covers. He'd invite you to hang out and go to the cafe you both always visit, treat you a drink and something to eat, and when you leave the cafe and sit on a good spot outside he's telling you everything clear and simple.

──★°`🌙.*♪!! The cafe's chill atmosphere makes it seem like time has stopped despite the clock ticking quietly in the corner. You've been in there for the whole afternoon at that point but it still feels like you haven't been sitting for more than an hour.

And still with so much time passed there haven't been even a few minutes that minutes that aren't filled with the still ongoing conversation between you and Eugene. Topic after topic braided together, not following a particular pattern but the trains of thought going one after another.

Right now you're chatting away about a long since passed situation. Despite him already knowing the whole thing by heart, he still listens and responds. And he'd do it all over again too, if it means seeing you so up close and hearing your voice.

The only thing that stops you from going further with your talk is the lovesick look he's giving you from the other side of the table. His head is leaning on his hand for support, cheek squished against his palm and a stray gingers strand of hair falling across his forehead for his otherwise neat hairstyle. There's a content little smile across his face, his cheeks flushed with a soft peachy color. His eyes reflect the setting sun, shattering the light across them with the most gentle spark in them. Just for you.

He knows it's the moment to speak his truth, given you've finally noticed the way he's staring and the little window of silence giving him the perfect opportunity to do so.

"Hey, can i tell you something?"

You nod, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly.

"I, ah.. lately I've noticed, uh.."

Really? Right now he'll trip over his words??

Clearing his troath, he continues, his evergrowing blush becoming more and more apparent.

"I.. I love being around you. Just seeing you makes me happy. I look forward to being with you and— i just really enjoy spending time with you, and you've become someone very special to me..

I hope you feel the same way towards me too."

He's struggling to even look at you, the sudden nervousness getting the better of him. The silence on your end only makes him more nervous too.

Suddenly he feels you hands around his, just as jittery and sweaty. You're nodding vigorously when he finally looks at you and he breathes a sigh of relief, exhaling the tension.

Thank god. He wouldn't know what he'd do if you didn't like him back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Kaoru

ᯓ★୭˚ The second he realizes he's gripping his shirt over the spot his heart is and kneeling on the ground as if he's gonna have a heart attack.

ᯓ★୭˚ He'd be so oblivious to his own feelings, given he's used to burying everything down until it volcanoes back up. So when he finally realizes, he's exploding internally. And right back into denial. He's gonna be in a limbo between being sure he likes you and denying it vehemently for a bit before finally accepting it.

ᯓ★୭˚ Not gonna lie, he's gonna be so obvious. I'd assume you're his friend already so you know the way he is - he's acting all done and sassy but it's sp clear he cares and goes out of his way to do things for you and the rest of his friends. And suddenly, he's getting all red when you're close. He's huffing and puffing when you ask someone for a favour and acts all smug when he does it before them. He watches your favourite anime and lends you your favourite manga since he just so happens to have it - but he hadn't heard of it before you introduced him to it??

ᯓ★୭˚ And, let's be real, he'd so try to have a good old school shoujo anime confession. And he plans everything out - he has picked a good cherry tree near the school, he knows what time the sun hits best, he already has the anonymous love letter asking you to meet him there.. and he chickens out of it every morning. It takes him a while until he actually goes trough with it. Waiting for the best time, he says... Oh, and the club helps him out too. Good luck.

──★°`🌙.*♪!! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He really did it.

After all this time, he finally got the balls to go trough with his plan. He wrote the letter and rewrote it for good measure, packaged it well and pretty and slid it in your locker. And the reality of the situation dawned on his just as he slipped it in. No turning back now.

All that's left is.. the whole day before school ends.

And he spends that day acting weird and finding every possible reason to avoid you as the cool-headed genius he is. He's too busy to sweat over it to pay attention to anything and anyone else anyway.

How could he face you now when he knows he has to confess to you later today?!

And sadly for him and much for the joy of everyone else, the end of the day comes much sooner than he would've liked.

Right now, he's stading stiff under the cherry tree he picked out. While waiting for you he's going over what he could possibly say when you finally arrive. The words seem to run away from him - no matter how much he's imagined and trained in the mirror, the real deal is completely different. What should he say? Where to start? What if you react badly? What exactly should—

"Oh my god, Kaoru??"

Fuck. You're here.

He turns around, still doing his best to seem cool despite the burning red color his cheeks have taken.

"Hey, uh, you're probably wondering why i called you here. Fuck— no?? I mean, obviously, you know why but— just— just let me speak, ok?

After a few seconds of silence he continues.

"I like you. I like you a lot. I've liked you for a while now. Please, go out with me.. please."

After he spent all day thinking over what to say so he can give you the most heartfelt genuine confession, all that came out of his mouth is this. Just end him now.. please.

"You're too cute, Kaoru, you know that?"

Peeling his eyes from the ground, he looks up to see you smiling brightly at him, as if his confession made your whole day.

"Of course I'll go out with you. I like you, you know? I thought it was obvious."

He's speechless. Voice left, thoughts ran away, brain short-circuited. Still, he couldn't be more grateful for the outcome.

It wasn't the cool and emotional shoujo-esque romantic confession he wanted it to be, but if you're happy with it he wouldn't have it any other way.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Tamon

ᯓ★୭˚ You know that meme with the dog?

Yup, that's him. Shhh, he just realized how down bad he is, let him process it.

ᯓ★୭˚ Another case of horrid obliviousness to his own emotions. With him, though, i think he does have a few moments where the light bulb flickers before it turns on so bright it burns his eyes. He can feel his heart flutter around you and suddenly he's sweating more than usual and he wants to hold your hand and he feels like the only person on the planet when you tell him he's dependable.. and sure, he has a few moments of thinking "they're awesome, i don't know how i even found them" and "they'd make a great boyfriend/girlfriend" and such... but when he actually, like actually, realizes he's into you? It all makes sense. He can't tell if he wants to bang his head into the wall or run to you and spill everything, but at least he has an explanation for the thoughts he's been having.

ᯓ★୭˚ I feel like you won't really notice a big difference with him even when he realizes his feelings. Not most of the time anyway. He's the same dependable and considerate Tamon you've always known - he's just gonna go out of his way to be around you a bit more. He'd walk you from home to school and from school to home even if he lives in the opposite direction, he's hanging out with you whenever he can, he just wants to be there. And every now and then he's weirdly red or suddenly flustered.. and don't tell him if you do, but you might catch him staring at you. Just observing, looking at you like you pull the sun into the sky every morning and hang the stars in the sky every night. Let him be.

ᯓ★୭˚ He doesn't plan on confessing. Ever. He'd rather die than possibly risk the great friendship between you so far. You're just too good for him to do anything stupid, you know? And then he spill the beans on accident. He will remember the embarrassment and terror he felt in the few seconds of silence for life.

──★°`🌙.*♪!! It's the dead of night, a calm atmosphere taken over the quiet hours. The sky is clear and the moon gleams bright across the sky, the stars making way for it across the midnight blue sky. It's so silent the only thing other than the gentle wind you'll hear are the squeaks of the bats and the occasional birds cooing softly. That, and the hushed whispers of you and Tamon on the phone.

You've been on the phone with him for hours. You won't stay up late tonight, you said. Just for a bit, you said. And there you are, still trying to keep your giggles quiet and voice down.

By now you've played countless games and talked about anything and everything that comes to mind, the late time bringing out the honesty in both of you. Right now you're laying comfortably on your bed, a cool gust of wind swishing from your window into your room, bringing a soft fresh scent along with it.

"— oh my god, do you know what i heard recently? This guy from the other class might have a crush on you!"

How it got to that topic, neither you not he knows.

"Shut up, Tamon. Are you for real?"

"I said i heard about it, can't promise you it's the truth. He really seems like it, though. It's not like i can't blame him anyway."

.. huh?

"Dude, what? What do you mean??"

"I mean, like, i can't blame him for liking you. I can see why."

"Sure thing, Casanova."

"No, I mean it. Genuinely. You're probably one of the kindest people on earth. Sure, you're kind of a dick sometimes, but i don't think I've ever met someone as genuinely kind and considerate. And you're so talented too. And you're passionate. You've seen what you can do when you put work into things. Also it's so easy to talk to you. I can talk to you for the whole day and the whole night and not even notice. And i can look at you without my stomach churning too. Sure, the fact that you're gorgeous helps, but my point stands. I can't blame him for liking you. Its not like I'm any better anyway."

Oh my god.

He did not just fucking spill that.

"Say it to my face then."

Why is everyone saying things without thinking??

Silence.

Peep. He closed the call.

Fuck.

He's not responding. He's not picking up your calls. He's not texting back either. Hell, he's not even looking at them.

Did you scare him away? Does he hate you now?

No matter what questions swirl in your mind, you can't have the answers when he's not responding. In the end, it seems better to leave it for the morning rather than stress over it right now.

Turning and tossing around over your soft covers, exhaustion seems to finally lead you into sleep after sweating and shedding a few panicked tears over your current situation.

Exhaling quietly, burning anxiety makes way for the quiet rest you desperately need, after 15 minutes of panic.

Thunk.

Or maybe not.

Ponk. Tink.

What the hell? Are those— are those pebbles?? What's throwing fucking pebbles into your room at this hour?!

"Pssst. Hey! Hey!"

You stick your head out of your window so fast you almost fall over from the sheer force of the movement.

And there he is - Tamon. He's breathing hard, burning red and sweaty, still in pajamas, his bike tossed to the side. His voice is a hushed yell, but you still hear him.

Darting out your bedroom door, you practically fly down the stairs to open the door and face him directly.

Now actually face to face with him, all and any words vanish from your mind, leaving you to stare at him stupidly.

"I meant it."

He seems panicked, but it's clear he's genuine. Up close, the redness of his face is even more obvious, along with the sheen of sweat across his forehead. He must've really gone fast on the bike if he's that out of breath.

"I really meant it. Please don't stop talking with me."

"Tamon, you idiot! You gave me a heart attack! I like you back, you—"

Tamon learnt two things that night. First thing is, he should think not twice but three times before talking after midnight. Second thing - he should've told you he likes you a long time ago. He couldn't be happier anyway.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☄. *. ⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Ichimiya

ᯓ★୭˚ My king in DENIAL.

ᯓ★୭˚ He'd rather go and tell everyone he's into that ghost geek shit before he confesses his love for you. And believe me, he's got it BAD. He knows just how bad it it. He's fully aware of how much space you take up in his mind and how much you fill his heart. Every smile, every look, every conversation, every simple act of kindness makes his heart soar. Everything about you makes him jolt in his seat like he's been electrocuted and melt like a sugar cube simultaneously. And the fact he's always a shade of pinkish red around you doesn't help either.

ᯓ★୭˚ Everyone around him knows. The student council is well aware that he wants you, despite the fact he vehemently denies it. Thing is, they don't know if you know it too. And they don't wanna meddle. If you know it and they bring it up could make everything weird, and if you don't know they could still mess it all up. Also, they'd have to deal with the wrath of their enraged student council president - and who is crazy enough to deal with that?

ᯓ★୭˚ Ichimiya likes to think the confession would be heartfelt and very well planned. He imagines something special just for you, with him going out of his way to do a truly memorable thing. He falls asleep to his own far-fetched dreams of being with you, and they always start with a cheesy confession. In reality, it's nothing like that for two reasons. He'd confess impulsively if something pushes him to that point - to act before thinking. Also he wouldn't have the balls to go through with his original plans anyway. Maybe it's better something's pushed him enough..

──★°`🌙.*♪!! This whole day has been like Ichimiya's personal purgatory reincarnated.

First, turns out some documents that should've been handled by the student council got messed up, meaning he'd have to fix everything personally. After that he was given a surprise test, and he didn't have enough time to finish the last -and most important - question. After that the fanboys his friends from the council decided it would be a good idea to try to make plans for the weekend, which he absolutely did not want to attend to. And then they decided to bring you up. You, and how close you seem to some nobody from the other class.

Thats when everything soured even further.

What do they mean you're that close with someone he hasn't even heard of? Wasn't he your closest friend? What does that random have that he doesn't? Are you tired of him? Do you like that guy better than Ichimiya?

All these thoughts spiral down in his head, internally making him panic and sweat over a thing he hasn't even seen personally. Outside, though, it seems like he's trying to poison the rest of the council just trough a venomous, burning stare - their cue to shut up.

And from then his whole mood for the rest of the week is spoiled. And for the next one too.

By now, he's been weird with you for about two weeks. He'd avoid you like the plague and ignore you until you just decide to leave, and then cling to you like you're the only person on earth for a bit before returning to his previous treatment.

In the beginning it seemed like it was just something stressing him out about the council, but it's gone on for too long to really believe that assumption.

Finally having had enough when he bailed on you on lunch without a word, you storm into the student council room to find him.

And there is he - sitting to the side, Sunao and Yoshiki animatedly talking about something before abruptly going silent when you enter the room.

Giving a scorching look to Ichimiya, internally he feels like crying despite returning the mean look. You turn around to look at the two other boys, asking them to excuse themselves and leave you alone with Ichimiya for a bit.

Normally they would've said something, but the tension is too thick for them to even try to protest, so they leave quietly.

Ichimiya can feel his features twitch worriedly, mouth pressed into anxious thin line, biting the inside of his mouth. He can feel his intimidating mask slip by habit, the distress seeping trough his cold expression.

"Ichimiya, what the fuck is up with you?!"

Man, he fucked up.

"You've been so weird for two weeks. Two weeks! You bail on me, ignore me, send me away and basically run away at just the sight of me, but then you come around and you're so clingly, and then you start avoiding me again! What is your problem?!"

He really fucked up.

And despite that, he can't bring himself to be honest with you. The anxiety and the impulse to still try and uphold his image gets the better of him.

"It's nothing. You can hang around someone else anyway. Don't you have that other friend to go bother?"

"I don't want to hang around someone else, i want to hang around you. What does he have to do with that anyway?"

".. forget it."

A tense silence creeps up after that, but it's short-lived.

"... please, Ichimiya. Just talk to me. Please."

He doesn't dare to look at you, just the quiet pain and desperation are enough to erode his mask almost completely. The guilt of not telling you the truth us eating him alive, but he just can't get the words out.

"Listen, i.. just— i can't say it. Please don't make me say it."

You continue to stare silently in disbelief at him, trying to gauge exactly what he refuses to say. His expression is a scorned pout, him biting the inside of his cheeks and looking down.. in shame? He looks... embarrassed. And guilty, and awkward.

What does he have to be embarrassed about anyway? High and mighty intimidating school council president, looking shamefully at the ground after acoiding you and all but blaming some other student for that. What could even that guy have to do with—

Oh.

A spark flashes across your face, a small grin of amusement at the absurd situation breaking out.

"Oh my god, are you—"

"Don't say it.. please, don't."

"You're jealous!"

Now he's looking at the ground not in guilt but in absolute burning embarrassment. His arms are clasped in front of his chest, but he keeps quiet.

"Why are you so jealous anyway? What's the big deal about this guy—"

Nevermind. His head shoots up and he's staring directly at you in disbelief, mouth slightly agape in shock at the question.

"Are you serious? Is it not obvious enough?! I like you, damn it! How can you not notice that??"

Another moment if silence comes upon the room, but this time he isn't really sure if he messed up or did the right thing.

"... Really? You like me, for real??"

The hope in your voice tell him he did the right thing, thank god.

And despite that, he'll never live down the shame of having his confession brought upon by petty jealousy and pouting. He doesn't regret it though, not if that means he finally has you.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆.˚✮•🌺•✮˚.⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

it's kinda obvious who my favourites are ngl,,

ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ as always, request are open n welcome!

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enimsiyobeht · 4 months ago

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hyunchan (& their kinks). 0.5/4! 🥟🐺

minors do not interact! kinks stated per imagine.

HWANG HYUNJIN. phone sex/nudes, recording, morning sex. (c'mon guys... we all know that hyunjins the freak out of the duo. quick, act surprised! making sure to have y'all fed with twt links 2 😽😽).

when i think of phone sex/sending nudes, i think as if hyunjins on hiatus (or vice versa) but he still wants to stay intimate despite the difference between you two 😿.

Hyunjin’s thumb hesitated over the glowing screen, heart already starting to race before he even read the name. You. The notification preview said:

"Are you still up, pretty?"

He swallowed. Of course he was still up. Sleep had been impossible since You sent that last picture—shirtless, tousled, that low smirk curving your lips. Hyunjin hadn’t replied. Not out of disinterest, but because his brain short-circuited every time You called him pretty.

Before he could overthink it, he called.

The line clicked.

“Hey,” came your voice—low, smooth, that late-night rasp that always managed to slink down Hyunjin’s spine.

Hyunjin bit his lip, settling deeper under his blanket. “Hey…”

“You looked like you needed help falling asleep,” You murmured. “Want me to talk you through it?”

Hyunjin exhaled, voice soft. “Yeah.”

Your voice dipped. “Good. Now... what are you wearing?”

Hyunjin laughed lightly, nerves flickering in his chest. “Just a hoodie.”

“My hoodie?” You asked, and the smile in your voice was unmistakable.

Hyunjin flushed. “...Yeah.”

There was a soft groan on the other end of the line. “You know what that does to me, don’t you?”

Hyunjin curled into the pillow. “Maybe.”

“Take it off for me, baby. Slowly. I want to picture it.”

His hands moved without hesitation, slipping the fabric up over his stomach. He could hear your breathing on the other end—steady, low, controlled. Like You were already there, eyes dark, watching.

“Tell me what I’d see.”

Hyunjin’s voice dropped. “Hard nipples. Goosebumps. I—um—I’ve been touching myself.”

Your breath hitched, barely audible, but it made Hyunjin's thighs press together.

“Show me.”

Hyunjin blinked. “W-What?”

“Camera on,” You said gently, “unless you’re shy tonight.”

He hesitated for a beat, then swiped up and tapped video. His chest rose and fell as the screen lit up. Your face appeared, tousled and flushed from the soft golden glow of your lamp. Your eyes flicked over Hyunjin’s body, darkening.

“You’re perfect,” You whispered. “Just like that. Can you be good and stroke yourself for me?”

Hyunjin's breath came shakily as he obeyed, one hand slipping under the blanket. You watched him like you were memorizing every tiny reaction—the way Hyunjin's lips parted, the tremble in his lashes, the way his hips shifted when he got close.

“I wish I was there to taste you,” You muttered. “To make you whimper like that against my mouth.”

Hyunjin gasped, back arching slightly. “y/n—please—”

“Not yet,” You purred. “I want to hear you fall apart. I want to record the way you say my name.”

Hyunjin’s pulse pounded. “You’re recording?”

“I always save our best moments, sweetheart,” You murmured. “You love it.”

And Hyunjin did. The thought of You watching him later—hand wrapped around yourself, whispering Hyunjin's name—sent him over the edge.

the freakiness doesn't stop there, i believe hyunjin would like recording. i believe the subtleness (like recording a session with the phone face down on the bedside table, or merely having the audio) would be more effective than the obvious (recording him while he gives you a blowjob, or a back view of you eating him out) 😼🍽️.

Hyunjin was already flushed before You even touched him.

The camera light blinked red from your nightstand, subtle and steady. It should’ve made him nervous—but instead, it felt like a secret shared only between them.

“You sure?” You asked, thumb brushing over Hyunjin’s hip as he straddled your lap, already bare except for your oversized t-shirt that hung low on his thighs. “We can stop anytime.”

“I’m sure,” Hyunjin breathed. “I want you to.”

You smiled, slow and reassuring. “Good. Because I don’t plan on looking away once.”

You guided Hyunjin down gently, both of them exhaling when skin met skin. You filled him slowly, inch by inch, letting Hyunjin settle as his arms looped around your neck.

The camera kept rolling.

“You look so beautiful like this,” You murmured into his ear. “Every time I rewatch this, I’ll remember how you felt—tight, warm, desperate.”

Hyunjin whimpered.

“Eyes on me,” You whispered. “Not the camera.”

Hyunjin obeyed, locking eyes with You. You started to move—slow, deep thrusts that dragged moans from Hyunjin’s throat. The kind of rhythm made for burning into memory.

“I want them to hear you,” You said, voice low and firm. “Let them know how good I make you feel.”

Hyunjin's fingers tightened in your hair as a high-pitched sound slipped from his lips. Your hand cupped the back of his neck, steadying him, grounding him.

“You’re doing so well for me,” You breathed. “So pretty when you fall apart like this.”

Hyunjin’s head dropped to your shoulder, body trembling as the camera caught it all—his flushed skin, the messy kiss You dragged from his lips, the breathless moan of your name just before he came.

idk why but cuddling @ night with hyunjin, spooning, and waking up for sleepy morning sex.... im foaming at the mouth 😻.

Hyunjin stirred with a soft sound, pressing back against the warmth behind him. Your arms were already around him—tight, secure, heavy with sleep.

He wriggled slightly, just enough to feel the slow grind of your half-hard cock against him.

“y/n,” he whispered, still half-asleep. “You’re hard…”

You made a sleepy hum, voice muffled against Hyunjin’s neck. “Can’t help it. You were moaning in your sleep.”

Hyunjin flushed, squirming again, intentionally this time. Your grip tightened, and your hips moved—lazy, unhurried. Morning sex always felt different. Less performative. Just want and warmth and skin.

“Want me?” You mumbled, lips brushing over his ear.

Hyunjin nodded, already pressing back.

You didn’t fully wake up. You didn’t need to. You shifted down, guided yourself in with a breathless sigh, then started rocking into Hyunjin with a pace so gentle it almost felt like dreaming.

No teasing. No rush. Just closeness.

Hyunjin moaned softly, face buried in the pillow, one of your hands slipping down to stroke him in time with the slow thrusts. Every movement felt like affection—like a reminder that he was safe here, owned and adored.

“I could stay like this forever,” You whispered, lips ghosting over his shoulder.

And Hyunjin believed You.

(next part)

#works 🐥 theboyismine !!#hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x male reader #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #top male reader #bottom character #stray kids x male reader #skz x male reader #bon appetit #🍽️

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madman479r · 3 months ago

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Hiccstrid: The seven stages of 🐓 shock

Hiccstrid wedding night

**Hiccup and Astrid kissing heavily, tearing at each others ceremonial wedding clothes.**

Astrid: **Straddles Hiccup on their bed** You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment.

Hiccup: **Joking** What? You've fantasised about us having sex for the first time?

Astrid: *dead serious** Yes.

Hiccup: W-what?

Astrid: Ever since I realised my feelings for you, I've imagined this moment, being atop of you, or you being atop of me. Visualising your face, whether it be flustered pleasure or lustfully hunger, with your eyes always being the same, filled with love as we finally join as one.

Hiccup: Astrid...

Astrid: And now, I don't have to imagine because I get to see it and feel it. **Reaches for his under garments but Hiccup grabs hed hands.** Hiccup?

Hiccup: **Nervous and avoiding eye contact** Astrid... I... I just don't want to disappoint you by my...

Astrid: Hiccup. I stood by your side for years because I love you, I married you because I love you. I don't care if its big or small, because your heart and mind is what won mine. **Leans down to Kiss Hiccup and trails kisses down his body until her face is level with his crotch.**

Hiccup: A-Astrid-!

Astrid: Shh. Relax, **Pulls down his underwear slowly** I want this. I want you. All of you. Big or sma- **Feels something thick hit the underside of her chin.**

STAGE 1: SHOCK

Astrid: **Wide eyes and jaw nearly touching the bed** H-Hiccup?! What the fuck?!

Hiccup: Gah! I knew it. It's too small.

Astrid: Hiccup, how in the ever living Hel is THAT small?!

STAGE 2: CONFUSION

Astrid: No, seriously, how have you hidden this?! How do you fucking walk with it?!

Hiccup: W-well, I- uh

Astrid: Wait. When we were making out that one time at the Edge and I said I felt something large poking me, you said it was the Dragon Eye... Was that your cock?!

Hiccup: I-I didn't want you to think I was a pervert.

STAGE 3: EVIDENCE GATHERING

Astrid: **Hesitantly wraps her hand around it**

Hiccup: Urf! A-Astrid...

Astrid: Freya- Hiccup, my fingers aren't touching. Its thicker than my axe handle. **Puts her forearm beside it** Its as long as my fucking arm...

STAGE 4: BARGAINING

Astrid: M-Maybe we should w-wait until I've gotten ready for this. Maybe if I talk to Valka, she may have some advice.

Hiccup: Why would we involve my mom?!

Astrid: Hiccup, I can only think of one man on Berk who'd have a cock just as big, and your mom fucked him. She'll know what to do.

Hiccup: I'd wish I had a small dick if it meant you didn't bring up my parents' sex life.

STAGE 5: ANXIETY

Astrid: Get it together, Girl. You're a Hofferson.

Hiccup: Pretty sure we just had a whole ceremony that changed you from a Hofferson to a Haddock.

Astrid: You've rode a dragon you just barely trained to fight a queen dragon. You’ve faced a screaming death without fear. You've trained a wild, hostile dragon while blind. You can do this! Then again, you done would you could to avoid being stabbed with claws, teeth and stingers, now you’re about to have THIS thing inside you.

STAGE 6: RESOLVE

Astrid: **Takes a deep breath and gains a look of determination that Hiccup fell in love with.** Okay. Let's do this.

STAGE 7: ACCEPTANCE

**Loud slapping noises and moans and groans coming from the Chief and Chieftess' home**

**Slap!Thwap!PlatPlatPlat!**

Astrid: **Bouncing on Hiccup’s cock** Oh, fuck yes! 💕💕💕

Hiccup: A-Astrid! *Barely keeping up with his thrusts**

Astrid: Oh, gawds! Its~ Tearing me apart! But I love it! I-Ah! Won't be able to- OH~♥️! W-walk after t-HISSSSS! GAWWW!

Hiccup: Astrid, you're so warm! NRG! And tight!

Astrid: No! Y-You're just- Ha~❤! Fucking BIG! Ha! Ah! AHHH~💕! E-even iF!-💕 I wanted t-to be unFAIthFUL- so fucking full~💓 n-no man w-would evER be able to FEEEEL MEEEE!♥️ HAAAA~💕! I'd- be too stretched OUT! By your massive FUCK meat!💕💓♥️

**Thwalp!Palp!Slap!**

#Httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup #astrid #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #astrid haddock #seven stages of shock #inspired by @rwac96 #smut #httyd smut #hiccstrid #hiccup x astrid #Hiccup is packing #No you cannot change my mind

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luffington · 1 year ago

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OMG im obsessed with the fic with Cora and Doffy X Reader! i was wondering if i could request just Corazon X Reader? im absolutely crazy about the idea of sweet Cora having those repressed sadistic urges, and his struggle with wanting to be soft and kind, but cant help liking the darker and meaner, its just. UGH SO GOOD

Maybe the reader could have picked up on that a bit and is teasing him into giving in to those urges (which they're totally into lol)

Also i love your fics sm! keep up the great work <3

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote rosinante (corazon) x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.3k

➤ warnings: dom!corazon, possessive!corazon, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), praise kink, established relationship, fem reader

RIGHT ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT!!! we barely know anything about cora outside of what law experienced and we'll probably never find out more so.... character interpretation!

my first draft of this had a paragraph where the reader acted bratty to try to coax out his mean side and he almost starting crying.... i took it out because i couldn't do that to him (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

this ended up being pretty similar to the other fic (read here) but i hope you like it!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Corazon was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Sure, he was a master of deception – hiding his Devil Fruit powers and tricking his brother into trusting him was definitely not an easy feat. His anger issues could use some work, even though the reasons behind his outrage were always justified. But his loving personality and strong sense of morality were very real.

He never doubted your kind heart, either. You had joined the Donquixote Family simply because you had no other options, and dealing with his crazy older brother was better than starving on the streets. Corazon was able to relax around you, be silly and affectionate without being judged by his cold-hearted coworkers, and finally speak after long stretches of staying silent.

But there was more to him.

Doflamingo seemed to be the black sheep based on what little you knew about the biological Donquixotes. A rare case of madness in an otherwise well-intentioned family. However, the brothers still shared the same genes and the same horrific childhood. And even though Corazon never discussed his experiences in the Navy, he certainly witnessed terrible things that still weighed on his mind.

Your boyfriend tried his best to keep any deep-rooted darkness away from you, but it was unhealthy for him to repress every negative emotion. You wanted him to feel comfortable around you. He didn’t need to be an angel all the time.

One time, the eternally clumsy blonde almost fell trying to hover above you in bed. Not wanting to crush you with his ten-foot tall body, he caught himself by grabbing your arm. Hard. You squeaked in surprise and he immediately apologized, but dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises stained your skin by the end of the night.

Early the next morning, when he thought you were still asleep, he lightly traced the marks over and over. You caught him staring at them throughout the day, too, looking more intrigued than upset. He littered your neck, chest, and thighs with hickies the next time you fucked, and you realized inflicting pain wasn’t what turned him on – he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to mark you. Those were his fingerprints on your arm.

So much was taken away from him at a young age that of course he wanted to claim you as his own. Hickies were more conventionally sexy than bruises, so he was less ashamed about admiring them in front of you and telling you how pretty you look. Even gently rubbing a large one on your neck during a Family meeting, which made his brother huff and tell you to get a room. Corazon did get a room after that – pulled you aside into a private bathroom and fucked you against the sink while making you stare at yourself in the mirror. Whispering in a deep voice about how the color of your hickies matched his plum-colored lipstick.

A few weeks later, he came home in the middle of the night after being away on a mission with Diamante and Trebol for nearly a week. Thunder boomed outside the window and his feathery black coat left behind a trail of rainwater as he stumbled into your shared room. His tall frame visibly shook with anger, his dark sunglasses barely covered the fury burning in his eyes. You got out of bed to greet him and asked how the operation went, but he just pulled you into a very wet hug and mumbled, “I don’t want to think about it ever again.”

You blinked slowly and whispered, “I can help you forget.”

The blonde threw his half-burned cigarette to the floor then smashed his lips against yours. He didn’t bother taking the time to build up to a heated kiss. Immediately biting your lower lip raw before pushing his long tongue inside your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, easily submitting and letting him take whatever he wanted from you. The smell of smoke caught both of your attention. Corazon instinctively stomped out the cigarette ashes smoldering on the throw rug without tearing away from the kiss for even a moment.

“Let me use you.” He looked as desperate as he sounded. “Just for tonight, can you be my little doll? I’ll make it up to you later, I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Heat shot straight to your core and you nodded fervently, clutching onto his drenched clothes like your life depended on it.

Which is how you ended up with his lengthy cock down your throat, your bare ass in the air and body wedged between his sprawled-out legs. Calloused fingers tangled in your hair to firmly guide you up and down. Graciously giving you time to relax by letting you swirl your tongue around the swollen tip, though he never pulled you entirely off his dick. He looked so pretty like this – damp hair clinging to his forehead, pale cheeks turned pretty pink, subtly squirming on the mattress, pupils fully blown out with lust.

Corazon suddenly thrust upwards to hear you gag, several inches of his cock forcing their way into your tight throat. Tiny teardrops reflexively lined your eyes as your gag reflex kicked in. You expected the blonde to panic and immediately stop – even though it was just your body’s natural reaction and you were enjoying every second. But instead, he licked his lips like he wanted to devour you.

There were those Doflamingo genes.

But unlike his selfish brother, Corazon asked if you were comfortable with everything happening for the second time that night. You gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, obviously unable to verbally confirm with his dick stretching your mouth to its limit. His cock drooled salty precum onto your tongue as thick globs of your drool dripped down to his balls.

You used both hands to stroke the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth – the huge man had a huge dick to match. Corazon swatted them away, held your wrists in one giant hand then pushed down hard until every inch of him was deep in your throat, messy blonde pubes tickling your nose. He was glad he set up a sound barrier, otherwise the entire Family would’ve heard the debauched moan that spilled from his lips.

After a few moments of admiring you and the prominent bulge in your throat, your boyfriend released you just before it became too much. “Good girl,” Corazon panted with a dazed smile. “Such a good girl, taking it all like you’re supposed to.”

He gave up trying to hold back after that, bucking his hips against your face and rambling about how pretty and perfect you looked like this. He pressed your head all the way down again just before he hit his peak, shooting a large load of cum directly into your stomach. When he saw your ruined state, a dark pit formed in his stomach. Tears stained your cheeks and spit dripped down your chin as you gasped for air, and he was turned on by it.

Corazon quickly pulled you close to press soft kisses against your cheek and make sure you were okay. Nothing you said seemed to convince him, so you brought his hand between your thighs. When he swiped a finger through your folds, his eyes widened at how wet you were. He admired the way your sticky juices webbed between his digits, then immediately began toying with your cunt.

“I would’ve stopped you if you didn’t like it,” you grinned, shamelessly rutting against the palm of his hand. “Ruin me with your cock more. I’ll be a good toy for you.”

Corazon gulped, stomach fluttering with sinful excitement. “O-Okay, if… if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Both of you knew he wanted it more than anything.

#i want donquixote genes inside me too #corazon smut #corazon x reader #corazon imagine #rosinante smut #rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante smut #donquixote rosinante x reader #rosinante imagine #corazon #rosinante #donquixote rosinante #one piece smut #one piece x reader #request #mine #my fics #anon

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reginaphalangelobster · 6 months ago

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Warm

Logan x X-Men!Reader

Summary: You and Logan get back from a tough mission and things take a turn.

Warnings: swearing, description of blood and stabbing, no smut hot making out, sarcasm, teasing jokes, no use of Y/n

Word Count: 1.7k

You and Logan practically dragged yourselves through the door. You had just gotten back from an overly complicated mission. It was meant to be an in and out situation but not much goes as it's meant to when you're X-Men. You both dropped your bags at the door and looked up the stairs. After the day you'd have neither of you could even contemplate climbing that many stairs so you headed for the lounge room. Logan flopped on the couch and dragged you down with him. You were pretty close friends but this was different. You didn't know what exactly was happening.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?" He said, very gruffly.

"What um, Whatcha doing?"

"Sleepin', you?"

"Same"

You decided to just settle into the situation as you were too tired to protest. You stayed like that for a few hours, just lying together, close. You felt his firm, warm body under yours and that lulled you into a soft, comfortable slumber. You both fell asleep pretty quickly but you were woken up by a strange sensation in your abdomen. You weren't sure what it was for a moment, it felt cold and smooth until it was suddenly warmer, much warmer. You only realised what it was when Logan's scream jolted you back to reality. You realised that hit claws were deep inside you, the cold feeling of the adamantium and the warm feeling of blood, lots of your blood, pooling between the two of you.

"Lo-Logan?" You whispered shakily.

He looked down to see his first covered in blood and his claws, protruding from your back. His whole world shattered for just a moment. He was sure his heart was about to beat straight out of his chest. He could feel the hot trickle of your blood going from his hand, down onto his chest, soaking his shirt. He looked into your eyes and saw tears pricking at the sides, your beautiful eyes were like this because of him. He saw the blood gargling up your throat and he saw it start to dribble out of your mouth. His own eyes were glassy and all he could see were flashes of red, blurring across his vision. He stammered, trying to say something, at this point anything, but he couldn't he just sat there in shock with his claws all the way through you. He watched as your eyes began to glaze over and your head lowered. The grip you had on his other hand was limp. You were dead. You were dead and he killed you.

He had killed so many people before but this was different, this was you. He started to cry, something he hadn't done in decades. Your body was hanging, limp, on his claws and he cried. He cried over you and that made your lips turn up in a small smile. You raised your head and looked at him. It wasn't enjoyable seeing him like this, it was awful, but you took some comfort in the fact that when you died he was sad, when you died he cared. You raised a hand to cup his cheek and he almost jumped off the couch. He was shocked that you were alive, you weren't, you just died, in his arms. But somehow you were alive and he was overjoyed.

"H-w-hu-How?!"

"I'm immortal you idiot"

"WHAT?!"

"Oh honey, I thought you knew"

"I FUCKING DID NOT!"

You smiled more and let out a small laugh.

"Oh, so this is fucking funny to you?!"

You laughed harder "Y-Yes!"

He began to laugh a little too, maybe because he was a bit hysterical but who's to say.

"You mind, you know, snickt?"

"Did you just say snickt?"

"Yeah, the claws?"

"Oh, I got it. But snickt?"

"Can we maybe have this conversation when they're not through me?"

"Oh, yeah, sure"

He retracted his claws with a 'snickt' sound. You fell onto him and he wrapped his arms around you.

"Thanks"

"Thanks? I just stabbed you"

"Yeah, I know. I was there"

"Well why thanks?"

"You cried"

"I did not"

"Yes you did"

"Nope"

"I was here Logan. You thought I was dead and you cried, you cried because you love me" You teased in a sing-song way.

"I don't love you"

"Oh! Harsh!"

"You know what I mean"

"Yeah, yeah, denial"

"What?"

"Nothing, so, snickt"

"They don't go snickt"

"They do!"

"They're my claws, I think I know what sound they make"

"Then what sound do they make?"

"Sort of a sni-snu-sh, I don't have to explain my claws to you"

"It's snickt, isn't it?"

"Shut up"

"Yeah, nah. I'd rather not"

"Well when do you ever?"

"Apparently when you stab me?"

He looks at you with a very strange pointed glare.

"What, too soon?"

"Yeah, kinda"

You smile again and put your hands on his chest in an attempt to get up but his grip on you waist tightens.

"Where you going?"

"I thought I'd get another shirt, I think it'll take a little more than club soda to get this out"

He lets you go with a small grumble and you sit up, just staying seated on the couch for a moment.

"What, don't wanna go now?"

"No, just, need a minute" you winced "my organs kind of have to, rearrange themselves, stitch themselves back together, y'know?"

He just looked at you for a moment with a hurt look in his eyes.

"I think you went straight through my spleen, it would explain the bleeding" You said as you placed a hand on your side.

Now that the jokes and sarcasm had stopped he remembered that he really did just stab you and he hated himself. Your gaze turned from your former wound and now just scratch, to Logan. You saw how much it tortured him and you placed an arm around him.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, I've had worse"

"s not that" He barely mumbled.

"Is it because we're close?"

He grumbled softly in the place of a yes.

"Then really don't worry about it"

He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow, questioning you.

"I've known Charles for a long time, like a walking kind of long time and we've had, incidents"

"Incidents?"

"He tried to melt my mind or some shit"

"He what?"

"I don't remember what he called it but it hurt a hell of a lot more than a little stabbing"

"Well I wouldn't say it was little"

"Ugh, men and size"

Logan laughed lightly.

"And it's not just him. Beast mauled me, Erik sent metal bars all through my body-"

"Ooh, he did that to me too"

"Nice, now we can start a club"

"That'd be really fun"

"Hmm, sarcasm is getting kinda obvious now"

"It's late, bite me"

"Ooh! I've been bitten a lot"

"Yeah?"

"Yep, sharks, tigers, lions, wolves, you know I got bitten by a badger once?"

"A badger? That's kinda pathetic?"

"Oh excuse me badger man"

"What?"

"Wait, do you even know what a wolverine is?"

"Scary, lots of teeth, sharp claws"

"Yeah, but it's also basically just a cross between a badger and a ferret"

"Fuck off"

"I'm serious!" You said, although the laughter didn't help your point.

"You're lying"

"Nope! It's really tiny too"

"No it's not"

"Yes it is! Now I have to start calling you Tiny Ferret-Badger"

"If you do I'll stab you, again"

"Aww! Is the tiny ferret-badger trying to be scary?"

"Stop it"

"You're so cute!"

"Stop it, now"

"Who's my little ferret-badger? You are! Yes you are!"

Logan grabbed your arms and pushed you onto your back, positioning himself above you.

"Wanna apologise?"

"I'd rather see where this goes"

You both moved your faces towards each other, agonisingly slow. Your breath quickened as you felt his fanning across your face. Your eyes locked and suddenly you were the only two people in the world. Your lips lightly brushed together, the small tough igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach. A fire that raged harder the more you felt his warm touch. His hand moved up and cupped your cheek while cradling the back of your head. One of your hands flew to his shoulder, squeezing it tightly as the kiss intensified. Your lips moved together in such synchronicity that you thought you must have been made for each other. It soon became a clash of teeth and tongues as your hand moved to his hair. Grabbing at the little ear shapes and pulling them just the right way, the way that had him letting out a low growl that travelled right through you. You let out a soft moan as his hand slid up your torso and under your shirt. He ripped the already torn material off your body and threw it to the side. You started to unbutton his shirt and pull it down his shoulders. You writhed against each other, lips clashing as you gasped for air. You moaned his name and he moaned yours. You were completely caught in each other's warm embrace.

"I don't mean to interrupt but this is public area in a school"

Both of your heads shot up and turned, you hadn't even heard the professor enter the room but there he was.

"Sorry, Charles"

"I understand, just please keep this restricted to your rooms, I don't want the children to be further traumatised"

"Okay, traumatised is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"If I remember correctly, no"

"Fair enough"

You grabbed Logan's hand and led him upstairs.

"Goodnight"

"Night!"

"Goodnight, professor"

You disappeared down the hallway and to your room.

"What was that about him remembering correctly?"

"I told you, I knew Charles a long time ago"

"Wh-You and-and him?"

"Don't act so surprised, you saw them"

"Them?"

"He and Erik were quite handsome in their day"

"Erik?!"

"Don't be jealous, we'll have our fun"

"Charles and Erik?!"

"You heard me"

"Next thing you'll tell me you fucked Mystique"

"Well....."

"Really?"

"Hey, she can look like anyone. Although, the blue is pretty hot too, works for Kurt"

"Oh my God!"

"Oh please, don't act like you don't get passed around the mansion like a blunt"

"I-Uh, shut up"

"Gladly"

You push him back onto your bed and trail kisses down his chest, leading to a very long night.

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