#I forget which one sounds like fingers on a comb’s teeth I’ll have to look it up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moemammon · 3 years

Note

Hi! I just got my wisdom teeth out yesterday and I was wondering how the brothers would react to a very high and emotional MC~!

Or how would the brothers take care of them?

I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense or not.

I hope you have a good day.

As someone who's also had a wisdom tooth out, I can confirm that it ain't pleasant-

MC's High on Wisdom Tooth-related Pain Meds!

(Feat. The Demon Bros and GN!MC)

Lucifer

Humans???are so weak wtf???

He was vaguely aware that human children's teeth fall out at some point

But aren't you too old for that?? Why did you have to get them removed

Finds the whole thing troublesome, because now he has a loopy MC on his hands who keeps crying and laughing at EVERYTHING.

Luci's pretty good at caretaking though (to an extent), so he makes sure you follow your aftercare instructions to the letter

Lets you hang out in his room if you can manage to be quiet, which is most of the time since those pain meds knock you out

Might even feed you your soup if you ask nicely enough

Definitely comments on your swollen cheeks and stifles a laugh-

Mammon

Imagine growing teeth just to get them removed?????why??

He was nervous as hell when you had to get them pulled, so he's definitely the first one at your side when you get back

"WOAH!! Y-your cheeks... did somebody hit ya?? They're huge!"

When you start crying at that comment he's SO quick to apologize-

And if he's annoying about it, he's actually really attentive? He doesn't know what to do really but he makes sure you've always got a fresh ice pack on hand-

Thinks it's pretty funny how you're acting all loopy and clinging to him, until you start screaming because he's trying to take your gauze out of your mouth-

"Oi, did they take some of your brain while they were yankin' yer teeth out?! This ain't yer tongue! Hold still, damn it!"

Levi

Bruh????

He didn't even question why you needed teeth pulled. You're a weak human, after all!

But he DOES question why you're in his room, laughing loudly while you watch Henry swim around. You're even talking to him??? Wait can you also speak to fish or-

But now he's more worried for his figurines once he catches you making grabbing motions toward his limited edition Ruby Moon Ruri-chan figure and-

Yeah, you get yeeted out of his room faster than your drugged up brain can comprehend

He loves you MC but please go away and don't come back until you're acting normally.

Levi can't deal with this right now... stop trying to make him tend to troublesome stuff...

Satan

He's already well aware that humans get teeth pulled, no matter how bizarre that sounds

But it's still interesting to see it in person, especially with how you're acting.

He's a little wary, but he lets you come into his room for the sole purpose of watching how you behave.

Doesn't trust you with any of his books right now, but he'll gladly read to you! Especially when he notices how quickly it puts you to sleep. That's probably thanks to the meds though-

Can't help but laugh when you INSIST that his room is a forest, because "books come from trees"

Pretty good with your aftercare too, since he's studied up on it. Under his care, your pain is bound to disappear in no time.

High key wants to look into your mouth so he can see your stitches tho-

Asmo

Babe??? You good???

He can't believe how SWOLLEN your cheeks are! He's got just the thing for that, okay??

A little repulsed by all the bloody gauze packed into your mouth, but he still loves you!

You're hella offended that he won't kiss you though, despite asking him a dozen times.

Sorry love, he's not a fan of getting blood and drool on his face, thanks! unless

Does recognize that you need some special care though, so he'll tend to you!

You just have to stay in your own room, so you don't get blood on his sheets. 💕

Beel

You had teeth??? Removed??????

Was it a punishment?? What did you do-

He's high key worried about your ability to eat, especially when he sees you can only have soft foods for a while

And you're so loopy that he's even MORE worried

Starts making you the tastiest soft foods he knows about, so at least what you eat will be good

Constantly checking to see if you're ok. Are you hungry? Do you need something to drink? Flan is a soft food, right? Cheesecake too??

Keeps asking you when your teeth will grow back, and wonders if Lucifer knows a spell to fix you-

Belphie

Somewhat aware that humans have teeth pulled, but not really up to date on the modern procedures

Notices how drowsy your medicine makes you, on top of being completely out of it.

He'll let you lay in his bed and ramble about your weird fever dreams, and honestly finds it funny

Compares you to a little kid and teases you to hell, but he's actually so soft with you??

Like, combing his fingers through your hair, entertaining your weird delusions and conspiracies, making sure you don't put your fingers in your mouth-

And when you eagerly tell him you're pretty sure Lucifer is the devil, he's just chuckling and agreeing with you.

"Yep, he's scary, isn't he? That's why you should stay here with me, and I'll keep you safe."

Not the greatest with your aftercare because he forgets about it himself, but he's pretty sure you should sleep with him a lot.

1K notes · View notes

nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Mr. Komaeda’s Lesson

THE FILTH ARRIVES

Summary: You should really proofread your assignments before submitting them... AKA: Professor Komaeda fucks you over his desk (literally my dream) Word count: 4258 Contains: she/her pronouns, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, professor/student relationships, gentle dom nagito (he’s very gentle i swear) Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

The soothing smell of camomile lemon tea wafts around the small office. The blinds are half open, casting the orange light of the setting sun across the smooth leaves of a peace lily that resides in a pot hanging in front of the heating unit. The warm air rocks it gently back and forth. The atmosphere in the room is light and pleasant, but it does nothing to ease your nerves.

“Do you want some?” Professor Komaeda asks as he pours himself a cup of the aforementioned camomile lemon tea. He has a little teapot sitting on his desk, it’s very cute.

You clear your throat, fidgeting in your seat, “No thank you, I’m fine.”

“Okay, let’s get started then, shall we?”

You’ve been dreading this meeting for weeks now. Your professor had been very insistent that this wouldn’t be a discussion about the quality of your work, but more about what he could do to help you maintain focus in lectures. There was also a brief mention about your most recent assignment, he said that he wasn’t concerned, but did want to run through a few things with you.

He was very polite about it, which makes the true nature of your distraction only more reprehensible.

“So, first I want to start with a simple question. How are you doing?”

“Uh, fine?”

He nods and takes a sip of his tea, “No problems outside of our classes? You don’t need to answer if you aren’t comfortable.”

“No i- uh. I’m fine outside of classes too.” You fidget again, twisting your hands in your lap, “I’ve been...tired? But that’s my fault, I stay up too late.”

He hums thoughtfully and rests his chin on the palm of his hand, “Could that be having an affect on your focus? I can see that you have been distracted in our most recent lectures and just want to make sure it isn’t a fault of myself or my material.” He laughs a little to himself, “I know I can be a little boring sometimes.”

Professor Komaeda is not boring. He’s probably the most engaging lecturer you’ve ever had, passionate about his subject matter and very enthusiastic about class participation. He also wears really tight trousers and has long dexterous fingers that you can't help imagining inside of your-

“I mean, being tired could be the problem?” A bold faced lie.

“Well in that case there isn’t much more I can suggest than a good night's rest.” He gives you a long look that makes you squirm in your seat, “I only graduated a few years ago myself, I understand the urge to make the most of your day, but you can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.” He takes another sip of his tea, a drop misses his mouth and rolls down his chin. He catches it with his thumb, which he then brings up to his lips and sucks. You swallow deeply, tearing your eyes from where his lips are meeting his skin. Your knee starts bouncing. Nerves.

“Would it help if you sat a little closer to the front of the lecture hall?”

It wouldn’t. Especially not on warm days when he loosens his tie and undoes the first three buttons on his shirt. You spent a whole lecture transfixed on the dip of his collarbones once. Not great for your note taking, “maybe I’ll give that a go next week” you say. Another lie.

“Okay, try that out and let me know if it helps.” He gently sets down his teacup and starts working his white hair up into a bun. His fingers are so delicate as he combs through the strands, pulling his hair up and away from his pale throat, exposing the length of it to your hungry eyes-

A noise escapes from your mouth. Almost a whine, but not quite. Professor Komaeda doesn't say anything, but his intense eyes meet yours for just a moment. You clench your thighs together.

“Are you ready to talk about your assignment now?” He asks, picking the teacup again. It’s decorated with sunflowers, almost criminally cute, “No reason to be nervous. I want to make it clear that this matter hasn't had any affect on your grade, just some advice for next time.”

You nod shakily. Despite all of his reassurances, you are still very nervous. Partially because you wanted a good grade, partially because you had worked on that essay day and night with the intention of impressing him. So stupid.

He gives you a pleasant smile and rifles through his desk for a moment, pulling out what you quickly recognise as a printed copy of your essay, “Take a look, i want to see if you can figure it out first.”

“Um...okay…” You skip past the title page and into the meat of the essay, reading through all of your points and making sure there weren't any obvious spelling mistakes. There wasn't anything that you could see, “Sorry...um...what page is it on?”

His teacup clinks when he sets it down again, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest, your palms are getting sweaty, “It’s on the title page actually. I’m surprised you didn't notice it.”

You shoot him a quizzical look and flip back to the first page. Your stomach plummets.

Titles have never been your thing, summing up an entire essay in just a few words isn’t easy, so you usually use a placeholder right up until you submit it. You remember changing it, you remember triple checking it was changed before you emailed it through. But something must have gone wrong because in big bold capital letters, the title of you assignment reads:

ESSAY SO GOOD PROFESSOR KOMAEDA WILL FUCK ME OVER HIS DESK

Your hands are shaking, the edges of the paper crinkling under your tight grip. You are going to fail...you are going to be expelled...you are going to-

“Ah. I see you’ve realised your mistake, hm?”

Your head shoots up, forgetting for a moment that he is still sitting across from you.

“Professor...I-I’m...obviously I’m…” you can’t get out a goddamn sentence, your mouth has all dried up, “I don’t even...I can’t…”

You are taken aback, when Professor Komaeda giggles. It’s a light little sound, he covers his mouth with a hand, “You are very bold, aren’t you?”

“I….”

“No need to worry, I’m not reporting this to the dean or anything like that. I see no reason to expel you over a silly little mistake like this one.”

“You...You dont want me to drop you class?”

He laughs again, you shrink under the intensity of his green eyes, “I’m not going to make you, no. If the situation isn’t going to make it even harder for you to focus during lectures, you can still come to class. I won't stop you, it is your choice.”

He is being remarkably cavalier about all of this, it’s almost unsettling, but you don't want to drop his class so you can't help being grateful, “Thank you so much, I...I promise i won't do this again.”

Professor Komaeda hums aloud, eyes half lidded as he looks at you from across the desk, “Won’t do what again?” he asks, though honestly its more of a purr, “Won’t think about me fucking you, or wont make the mistake of writing it down?”

Hearing the word fuck drop from that perfect mouth of his sends you into overdrive. Your thighs are clamped so tight together that your legs are shaking, you can feel yourself breathing hard, “I...uh...I....” you swallow, “I won't do...either?”

“There's no need to lie to me.” He breathes, standing up from his chair and rounding the desk. You can feel yourself quivering in his shadow, he towers over you. Your breath catches in your throat when one of his hands makes contact with your chin, slowly lifting your head up until you meet his eyes. His expression is positively hungry, “I want to make something very clear. This is your chance to leave, if you do we will never speak of this again. If you don’t, well…”

All you can do is stare at him, mouth going dry with realisation.

“Your essay was very good, by the way.” He leans down until his nose is almost pressed against yours, you can smell the tea on his breath. You can feel the warmth of his skin, you can count his eyelashes, “Good enough that i’ll fuck you over my desk if you still want me to.”

In a moment of hungry lucidity, you grab him by the tie and tug his lips down to yours. Colliding in a positively ferocious kiss. You feel him laugh against your mouth before he slips his tongue in between your lips and traces your upper row of teeth, his tongue is wet and warm, your thighs are rubbing together as you grow desperate for any sort of friction. Professor Komaeda must be in a similar state, because he grabs you by the waist and tugs you up to your feet. Pressed firmly against him like this, you can feel the evidence of his arousal through his slacks, a moan escapes you when you feel his hips buck.

He laughs again, pulling away from your mouth to press a hot kiss to the side of your throat. You feel his long fingers toying with the hemline of your skirt, slowly slipping up underneath it, “These pretty little things…” he whispers, tugging on the top of your thigh high stocking and releasing it with a snap, “do you wear them for me?”

There’s no point lying anymore. You can’t stop shaking, “I...yes…”

You feel him moan against your skin, sinking his teeth into the join between your neck and shoulder, “Did you really think I wouldn’t take notice? Of the way you undress me with your eyes in class, of these tiny little skirts you started wearing?” He grabs a handful of your ass and you squeal, “you’re so gorgeous. You could have anyone in that class if you wanted, but here you are with me-“ he grinds up against you, cock warm and hard through his slacks, “-I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve this.”

His voice is so soft and gentle, even while he’s palming your ass and grinding his hips against yours, he still talks like he’s giving a lecture on historical literature. It’s hot, how easily he is able to maintain his composure while you are little more than a quivering mess beneath him, but still...you want to see him come undone.

You hear more than feel your knees colliding with the wooden floorboards. Professor Komaeda is unable to give little more than a surprised look before you have his slacks and boxers shoved halfway down his thighs and his cock in your mouth. He lets out a shocked little moan, burying his long fingers into your hair as his hips stutter forward. Now that was the reaction you wanted.

“Oh...ohhhh-“ he whines, slowly moving himself in and out of your mouth as you tease his head with your tongue, “ahh...your mouth feels so good, angel.”

You were not expecting him to call you angel. It’s like a bolt of lightning to your cunt, your hands jump up the dig deep into the meat of his thighs as you moan downright salaciously around his cock.

“I can feel you moaning.” He whispers, “I can’t believe how much you’re enjoying this” you look up at him through your lashes and see his cheeks are red, his perfect lips are swollen from his biting them incessantly. You moan again just from the sight of him, he hisses and his hips cant forward deeper into your mouth, “wow. You...You really like doing this don’t you? Wrapping your perfect soft lips around my filthy cock?”

Filthy? That makes your eyebrows jump. You could always tell that your professor had some sort of inferiority complex, but you didn't realise it was...this intense.

“S’pretty.” You managed to slur around him, “Tastes good.”

He laughs again, it explodes from his mouth and shakes his shoulders. Unbridled, almost wild. He grins down at you, “I’m sure it doesn’t taste as good at you.” He purrs, tucking your hair behind your ear, “get up on the desk.”

Well, you weren’t going to say no to that. You give his cock one last long lick before standing back up from the floor, just before you hoist yourself up on the table, Professor Komaeda grabs you by the wrist, “Panties off, please.”

You feel yourself turn crimson, but dutifully shimmy out of your panties and let them drop to the floor. He smiles at you, hands curling around your waist as he leans into your ear, “that’s my girl.” He whispers, and lifts you up onto his desk. His hands are cold on the bare skin of your thighs peeking out from the top of your stockings, your stomach twists and curls as he slowly edges your legs open, and drops to his knees between them.

“Oh my god…” you squeak, he’s staring up at you with a look that is downright sinful and he doesn’t break eye contact, even when one of those perfect fingers slips inside you, “agh!”

He chuckles warmly, gently thrusting his finger in and out of you, “you’re so wet, angel...I can’t imagine why someone like me is making you so aroused, but I’m not complaining.”

His finger curls inside of you, and your hips jolt, “Mmph! Pro-Professor I-“

He smiles saccharinely as a second finger pushes its way inside you, “Nagito.” He corrects, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh, “We’re well beyond the need for formality. Don’t you think?” You cover your mouth to muffle a squeal as he adds a third finger. Your knees are wobbling and you can barely breathe, he’s just sitting between your legs and grinning at you, “Now let’s see if you taste as good as i imagine, hm?”

He pulls your clit in between his lips and sucks. You have to bite down on your hand to keep yourself from screaming, “F-Fuck...Nagito...I--hng!”

“It is after hours, you know.” He whispers, you can feel his breath on your cunt and you shiver, “There’s no reason for you to restrain yourself.” He licks your clit again and moans, “Haa...It may be selfish of me, but i want to hear you. If you’ll let me.”

“Oh god-” You hiss out when his tongue starts circling around you, “-keep doing that, and you’ll hear me alright.”

Nagito giggles and peers up at you, “Then I suppose I'll get back to work.” He hoists your thighs over his shoulders, and starts eating you out in earnest. You lean back on your elbows, and watch his soft white hair bob between your thighs as his tongue works it’s magic, he alternates between running the flat of his tongue up the length of you and focussing directly on your clit. Your toes are curling, mouth wide open with a constant stream of moans and whimpers that you have no hope of stopping. It feels so good, you had dreamt about this alone at night in your bed and even in those fantasies it hadn't felt this good.

His fingers slip out of you, but before you even have a chance to complain, they are replaced with his tongue. You moan so loudly that it rumbles through your chest, your hips rise up to meet his mouth and his hands curl around the soft flesh of your thighs, tugging you even closer. He groans. The wet muscle is slowly thrusting in and out of you when he presses down firm on your clit with his thumb, “I--mmph...Nagito m’gonna cum…” your hips are grinding relentlessly up against his face and you can feel your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat.

“Cum for me, angel.” He whispers, thumb rubbing your clit in brutal circles, “I want to feel you squeezing around my tongue.”

You throw your head back in a howl as his tongue slips back inside, the desk rattling with the force of your quivering hips. You can hear the slick sounds his mouth is making against your cunt, the way he is panting and moaning just from the taste of you. The tightness in your stomach grows unbearable, then he curls his tongue upward, and it snaps. You see whiteness behind your eyes, thighs shaking with the intensity of it. You can feel the vibration of Nagito’s moan inside of you and his fingers dig tight into the meat of your thighs. He’s enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you are.

When he finally pulls away from you, the lower half of his face is glistening with your wetness. He gives you a pleased smile, eyes half lidded as he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean, “I knew you would taste good.” He whispers, wiping the mouth with the back of his hand, “Think you can cum again, angel?”

Just watching him suck on his fingers is enough to get you going again, “Yeah, I definitely can.”

He laughs and stands up from the floor. His cock is flushed red and dripping, you suddenly realise he hadn't touched it that whole time, he must be painfully hard at this point. You lick your lips, you can't help it. He follows your line of sight and smiles, “Be a good girl and bend over the desk for me, please.”

You slide down off the desk, ready to follow his orders but quickly stop yourself, “Oh. One second.”

“Hm?”

You grab the teapot from the desk and quickly rest it on the windowsill, “Sorry. That was a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right.” His hand slips up to your cheek, thumb resting on your lips. He smiles when you pull it into your mouth and suck, “I’ll have to thank you for saving my carpet. Unless you see any other hazards, i would still like to fuck you.”

That word again. It sounds doubly filthy when he says it, the way his lips mold around it is downright sinful. A shaky moan drops from your mouth as you turn around and do as he asks, your breasts are squished up against the sturdy wood, and the desk is a little too tall for you, your feet are dangling just above the floor. You’re shaking with anticpation, and it grows even worse when you feel the warmth of Nagito’s palm caressing your ass, “For my own peace of mind…” he whispers, his other hand running a finger up the length of your sex, “When do you graduate?”

You laugh, “It’s a little late for that, isn't it, Professor?” you feel his hand still on your ass and you clear your throat, “Uh, this is my last semester. A few months.”

He sighs pleasantly, “Ah, that’s good. This has been very fun, though i'm not sure we should do it again.” You feel the head of his cock kiss your entrance and hiss through your teeth, “At least...not for a few months.” You can hear the smirk on his face.

“I’ve waited this long.” You say, grinding backwards into his cock, “I can wait again.”

He leans down until his mouth is right beside your ear, “Good girl.” He whispers, and finally thrusts inside of you. It feels so good, he fills you so well. Your cheek is pressed firmly against the hard wood of the desk and a pathetic little mewl escapes your mouth at the feeling. You cunt already dripping from your last orgasm, you take him so easily, so smoothly. It feels like he is meant to be inside you.

You feel a hand on your lower back, pushing you further down onto the desk and Nagito hisses through his teeth. Pumping slowly and deeply inside of you, like he is savoring it, “You’re doing so well, angel. I--fuck...You’re so warm.” his breathing is laboured, the rhythmic sound of his hips hitting your ass is echoing around the room, “I still can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you. I must be the luckiest man alive.”

“Please...more!” you whine, trying to force him deeper inside of you with the movement of your hips.

Nagito lets out a strangled moan and starts pounding faster, one of his hands slipping down between your legs to circle your clit, you cry out at the extra stimulation, toes curling inside of your shoes. The desk is shaking with the force of his thrusts now, there's a cute little statuette of a frog that falls down to the carpet with a clatter, but he doesn't stop.

“You feel so good, darling...I--I don't think i can-” a groan rips through him and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppier, “-you’re so good for...so perfect...I can't hold--ah ahh” he swallows, “Please, angel, i want to feel you cum again.”

You’re close, mouth raw from panting and moaning, legs going numb from behind suspended in the air. Then, the finger on your clit presses down firm and his cock grinds up against your g-spot. That is all you need, you come unraveling under him, the walls of your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him.

“Ah, yes!” He cries, grabbing your hips and pounding you desperately, relishing in the feeling of your hot, tight cunt. Milking him dry, “Good, girl. So good for me.” Then, he cums, you feel his cock throb deep inside of you as his hips stutter and slow.

It is only now that you are hit with the realisation. You just fucked Professor Komaeda. Holy hell.

All you can do is lay there while he slowly pulls himself out of you. Wincing a little at the wierd feeling of emptyness. You manage to roll yourself over, laying flat on your back with your legs still dangling from the desk. Nagito laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Are you alright?”

You laugh weakly, “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”

“Not if no one finds out.” He tucks some of your hair behinf your ear, “Don’t worry about it, I’m very lucky with this sort of thing.”

“I just dont want you to get in trouble.”

He giggles, “That’s very kind of you, but this was as much my choice as it was yours.” he runs his fingers down your cheek and gives you a gentle kiss on your lips, “I meant what i said, about meeting up again.”

You manage to pull yourself up until you are sitting upright, you give him a sleepy smile, “Yeah, me too. I like you a lot.”

“How very sweet of you to say, angel.” He presses his forehead to yours and tangles your fingers together, “Let’s get you cleaned up now, hm? Can’t have you walking home like that”

To be honest, you aren’t sure you can walk at all.

____________________________

A few months later, you are sitting in the local cafe and applying for some jobs on your laptop. You did well on your final assessments and graduated with flying colours. It’s only a few more days before you need to officially move out of the dorms, and finding a new apartment (along with a job to pay for it) has not been easy so far.

You huff and push your hair back from your face. Your phone pings, and you ignore it. It’s been pinging for the past few minutes and you are not in the mood to check it. The job you are currently applying for made you retype all of the information in your resume even though you just uploaded it, and you are not happy.

The phone pings again and you groan, grabbing it and flipping it over. It looks like it’s just the group chat, as loud as always. As you go to close the message notifications though, you see one from about ten minutes ago that isn't from your group chat. Your heart is racing.

Hello!

I still have your number from when you asked for an assignment extension at the beginning of last semester. I hope you don't mind me using it. It’s been a few months, I'd like to see you again, if you wouldn't mind.

-Nagito

Oh shit. Your heart is beating a rapid tattoo in your chest. You had been so caught up in the job hunt and apartment hunt that you had all but forgotten about...this. You swallow and manage to force your shaky hands to type.

Oh hey!

It’s nice to hear from you. I’m free this weekend if you want to meet up, I still live in the dorms though, so it’ll have to be your place.

It's only about a minute before you get a reply.

Lol! I was thinking we could start with coffee, but I'm not going to lie and say i wasn’t hoping it would end up in my bedroom.

This weekend works for me. I can pick you up around 11?

You smile at your phone, cheeks turning crimson.

Sounds good. I’ll see you then.

You quickly update his contact details in your phone from Professor Komaeda, to Nagito <3.

#komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa fanfiction #sdr2 #super danganronpa goodbye despair #FILTH

258 notes · View notes

hongism · 4 years

Text

belated - c.san (ft. jwy) 18+

↦ pairing: san x reader (ft slight san x reader x wooyoung) ↦ genre: pwp, smut, 18+, non idol au, friends with benefits au ↦ wc: 2.8k ↦ summary: san feels guilty for missing out on wooyoung’s birthday dinner, so he enlists your help in creating the perfect present for wooyoung as a belated gift | part 2 out now ↦ warnings: explicit smut, oral sex: f + m, fingering, filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism mention, subspace mention, dirty talk, cum eating/swallowing, unprotected sex

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” It’s a bit late for you to be backing out at this point; you and San have both completely stripped to be as naked as the day you were born, and San is fiddling with the tripod near the edge of the bed. He’ll start recording soon, though that isn’t the thing you’re hesitant about. You are more hesitant about San’s promise that Wooyoung will even like this. While you have entertained the thought of fucking Wooyoung on occasion – it’s not like he didn’t get the fucking best genes in the universe alongside San – you never thought that the feeling would be mutual or that he would ever see you in such a light. The two of you have a strictly neutral friendship through San: both having met the man at school and thus become friends through him being your mutual friend. You don’t think it to be the most extreme or strange thing to happen, but still, that doesn’t lessen your surprise the moment San asked if you would be okay with the offer.

Your relationship with San is far different from Wooyoung’s mainly due to the fact that you and San fuck frequently with no strings attached, and as far as you’re aware Wooyoung and San don’t do that in their spare time. Thus you had no issue agreeing with San’s suggestion, which has led you to this beautiful standstill with San’s toned and lean body on full display before you. You must be too enamored by San’s body before you to pay any attention to what he’s saying because moments later, his fingers come before your eyes and snap several times to pull your focus back.

“Hm?”

“I said I’m certain this is a good idea. Wooyoung has entertained the thought of you – well us, for that matter – many times, and he’s admitted it to my face. I’m positive that he’ll love the present.” San brings a finger under your chin and lifts your head a bit so that you can look him in the eye. “Besides you look so fucking gorgeous with my cock in you that I’d have a hard time believing he wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you grumble as you try to fight off the sudden surge of embarrassment rushing up your neck and face. San clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“That’s what I plan to do to you, sweetheart. Not the other way around.”

“Well hurry it along then.”

San only huffs out a laugh in response this time, but he steps away from where you’re perched on the foot of the bed to go fiddle with the camcorder a bit more. Seconds later, a small red light starts flashing at the edge of your vision, and you do your best not to stare directly at it as San walks back to you. He pushes your thighs open with his knees, slotting himself between your legs with ease, and leans over you to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. You greet him like it’s second nature, and it practically is with the amount of times the two of you have done this. The only difference now is that there’s a camera present with you two, but as San’s tongue pushes into your wet cavern, you find yourself quickly forgetting that it’s there.

“Wanna give him a good show,” San murmurs, slipping away from you and leaving a thin strand of saliva between your lips.

Before you know it, he has dropped to his knees before you. His hands roam the expanse of your thighs, caressing the soft skin under his fingers, and he spreads you wider open with little resistance on your part. Two fingers sneak further upward and drag over the front of your folds. A bit of wetness has already pooled there, enough to make your core glisten as San pushes your lips open and exposes it to the camera. He’s managed to find the perfect angle to capture the action for the time being, but you know that will quickly change as the two of you lose yourselves in the arousal and sex-driven high. You drape a leg over one of San’s shoulders and lean back on one hand. The other finds purchase in San’s dark hair, combing through the soft locks as he presses closer to your heat. He greets your folds with a single, tentative lick at first, and the instant arch of your back under his tough encourages him to repeat the motion.

“Look at the camera,” San commands in a soft tone. The words aren’t loud enough to reverberate against your cunt, but it is enough to cause your arousal to heighten, and you don’t waste any time in obeying the command. “Don’t even think about keeping quiet. I want Wooyoung to hear every last sound that comes from your lips.”

You offer a quick and shaky nod, glancing down at San only once before bringing your gaze back up to the camera. San’s tongue finds your folds again – this time with more force than before – and you keen under his touch, a small moan ripping from your mouth before you can stop it. Your first instinct is to reach up and clap a hand over your mouth, but San hisses against your clit. It’s a warning, and you recognize it as one in an instant, pulling your hand back down to his hair with a bit of hesitation. His deft muscle teases your hole a few times before circling back up to flick over the bead of your clit. Even the slightest touch has you gasping under him, and his hands pressing down hard on your thighs are the only things keeping you firmly planted to the bed, otherwise you would be bucking your hips up into his tongue. It doesn’t keep you from begging for more. It should be shameful how desperate you are for more of his touch already, but the feel of his smooth tongue running over your folds is too good to be thinking about shame right now.

The next sound to fall from your lips is merely a whimper, and it comes out when San sets two fingers against your tight hole. He doesn’t even have to push them in for you to moan. It’s lewd and resonates through the quiet room, accompanied by the dry chuckle that falls from San’s lips, and this time, the sound sends vibrations across your clit. You writhe under his touch, and your elbow buckles under you. You slip backwards, tugging a bit too hard at San’s hair, and he groans from the sharp pull at his locks.

“Fuck, baby girl, if you keep that up, I won’t be able to finish the foreplay like I want to,” San hums. You offer another tug to his hair – an action more meant to tease him than anything else – and San responds by plunging a single finger into your hole. A gasp leaves you at the sudden stretch, which quickly breaks into a drawn-out moan as San sucks gently at your clit. You can’t keep yourself up any longer thanks to the sensation, and moments later, your back hits the mattress with a soft thud. “If you aren’t gonna look at the camera, then you had better tell Wooyoung how much you wish it was his tongue on you and not mine.”

“San,” you whimper, a bit breathless already. San slips a second finger into your tight heat rather than responding with words, and you squirm under the touch, hand tightening around the hair close to his scalp.

“Wrong name, sweetheart,” he teases back after a few seconds of terse silence. You nearly roll your eyes but a third finger pushes in beside the other two in you, and you see stars in the edges of your vision. “Whose fingers do you want in you, hm?”

“Woo – oh shit, Wooyoung’s!” You cry out, thighs squeezing together as San’s fingers brush over your sweet spot.

“And what do you want him to do to you?” San is straight-up taunting you now, and if you weren’t so full of pent-up arousal, you would probably kick him for being such a brat at the moment.

“W-Want his cock, I want it so bad.”

“That’s not good enough, baby.” San curls his fingers further, robbing you of the tantalizing sensation in mere seconds, and you whine in protest. You know that it won’t get you anywhere and he fully expects you to follow his orders like you always do, and once glance down at his face between your thighs pushes you further into that sweet headspace you love to be in while he’s fucking you. It doesn’t send you all the way there yet though, but it does cause you to beg.

“I want Wooyoung to f-fuck me hard. I want him to fuck me until I forget my name, I need his cock in me so badly. Just need to be f-filled up and – and fucked into the mattress, please.”

“There we go,” San coos while slipping his fingers out of the tight warmth of your cunt. “Such a good little girl for Wooyoung, aren’t you? Such a shame he can’t be here to give you that now.” San pushes himself up, one hand lingering at your hip and the other that was just between your legs sneaking up to your lips. You take the wet fingers between your lips without waiting to be told, and the taste of your juices on his digits has your body burning with shame. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fill you up for him. On one condition—” San stretches his fingers in your mouth, spreading your lips wider as your tongue laps over him “—you have to call out his name instead of mine. And if you mess up, then I’ll stop fucking you.” He retracts his hand from your mouth, and you immediately try protesting to his demands once you can speak freely.

“S-San, no, pl-please—”

“No.”

It’s only one word but it hits harder than anything he’s said before tonight, and you sink your teeth into your lip.

“Will you do as told?”

“Yes… y-yes, I will,” you agree quickly, trying to shroud your face from the camera in your shame. San catches hold of your chin and pulls you forward once more.

“There’s a good girl. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” He speaks the words with just enough softness and affection to have you preening under him. His cock brushes through your folds, teasing your hole a few times before he properly aligns himself and sinks into you with a shaky sigh.

“O-Oh, fuck, San,” you moan out before you can stop yourself. San’s member disappears from your heat quicker than you can process it, and you blink dumbly at the man above you in disbelief.

“Get it right, baby girl. You know whose name to say.”

“Wooyoung,” you mumble, walls clenching around nothing as you remember who and what this is for. San pushes back into you halfway this time, dick rubbing pleasurably against your slick walls, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from calling out his name again. You only release your tongue once he has bottomed out in you. He pauses there to let you adjust to the stretch of his member, chest heaving in an unbalanced rhythm as he tries to catch his breath. “Fuck me, pl-please, fuck me already.”

Your hands claw desperately at San’s shoulders in attempts to bring him closer to you, but San stays upright, fingers digging sharp crescents into your hips as he pulls out about halfway. His next thrust is so sharp that you feel your whole body slide backward on the bed, a startled moan breaking through your lips, and your hands fall uselessly by your sides. It’s with frantic grasps that you grab for the comforter, and all coherent thought leaves your mind as San begins to fuck into you at an increased rhythm.

“Sa–Wooyoung. W-Woo, pl-please,” you beg to the thin air above you, barely able to get the right name out in the haze of your pleasure. San chuckles above you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air along with the grossly lewd noises coming from your cunt as San thrusts into you. You can hardly think about that though, too focused on chasing your pleasure. Then all of a sudden, San slips a hand from your hip to your cunt, and he drags the pad of his thumb over your clit in small circles. “Fuck, gonna cum, please, I can’t – I can’t—”

You can’t even finish the sentence thanks to the mind-blowing sensation. San continues his staggered motions, tugging you closer to his body and holding you as close as possible as he approaches his high as well. He must not be expecting you to cum so quickly though because when you do cry out and squeeze hard around his member, walls pulsing as the orgasm ripples through your body, he releases a surprised grunt. His hand returns to your hip so that he can properly fuck you through your orgasm, but he doesn’t opt to cum yet. Instead, he slips out of your fluttering hole and pulls you forward until you’re forced to slip off the edge of the bed. The carpet is rough under your knees but you aren’t in a mindset to complain about it, still a bit dazed from the pleasure.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart?” San grunts the words out, hand jerking over his slick cock, and you brace yourself on his thighs. You don’t reply verbally, but the way you stick your tongue out and blink up at him through batted eyelashes is enough of an answer. Within seconds, hot ropes of cum spurt from the tip of his cock, lacing your face and tongue with his seed. You flinch under the suddenness of the action. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, you wait for San to finish milking his cum out onto your face.

What you aren’t expecting, however, is the sudden touch of his lips against yours, cum intermingling between your mouths and dancing over your tongues as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You greet him with a pleased moan and dig your fingernails deeper into his thighs just to draw one last moan out of him before you’re satisfied. When San pulls back, there’s still a hefty layer of cum on your face, but he doesn’t let you clean up the mess yet, telling you to hold on a second. All you can hear is him shifting things a few feet away, then the heat of his presence returns to you.

“Show off for Woo, baby girl. Show him how pretty you look covered in cum like this.” Even though you can’t see San, you’re certain that he is dangling the camera in front of your face right now, and that thought alone causes you to stick your tongue out again and display the full extent of San’s cum on you. Fingers brush your cheek, collecting a few beads of cum before bringing them to your mouth and fucking the digits into your wet cavern. Once he’s satisfied with the amount of cum he’s pushed between your lips, he pulls back to examine his work. “Open your eyes.”

You do as told in a second, eyes fluttering as you make immediate eye contact with the camcorder.

“Now wish Woo a happy birthday, sweetheart,” San coos from behind the camera. You can barely make out the twisted smile playing at his lips.

“Happy birthday, Wooyoung,” you say, voice a bit raspy from the burn of the cum in your mouth and throat.

“And tell him that you hope he can join us next time.”

“I… I hope you can join us next time,” you repeat. A smile overtakes your lips at the pride in San’s expression. He doesn’t say anything else, fiddling a bit with the camera, and the red light stops flickering after a few seconds. “Is that all?”

“That’s it, baby girl,” San hums in response. “You did so well for him.” His thumb finds your chin once more, caressing the skin under a calloused finger. “I’ll get a rag, and we can get you cleaned up. Then we can send him the video and wait anxiously for his response. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you murmur back, eyes falling shut as San presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

“Neither can I,” San chuckles before stepping away from you to head for the bathroom. “Neither can I.”

...

↦ a/n: part 2 anyone? jkjkjk unless? okay but also it’s been awhile since i’ve written something like this so i hope you guys enjoy pls let me know what you think also this was written and prepared before my break so please continue to be patient with me as i work on coming back and spending time away to recover and heal!!

617 notes · View notes

the-last-cuddlebender · 3 years

Text

Blood In A Blacklight

Katara has a criminal empire to run, a family to protect, and plenty of shadows from the past who want to tear it all down.

Part 1: The Wind Howls (1/2) - She has him back, and everything should be perfect now, but it’s not. She’s more worried than ever. And she hasn’t slept in days.

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

A/N: Mafiosa!Katara and Gaang™ gang because I want it and am willing it into existence. Basically took “Sokka and I, we’re your family now” and made my take on a bending-mafia-families AU lmao

Words: 1,748

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

Katara punished her book for the weather and nearly tore it when she flipped the page. The words blurred again. She glared, hoping to become a firebender and burn a hole through the damn thing.

The door opened without a knock, and the frame of her vision shook, bordering on crimson. Mercy was still a foreign concept, and nearly ninety-six hours awake had mutilated her ‘moral code’ into watery dough. A few twitches of her fingers closed her hand around veins and arteries, but her bending recognized her intruder’s old blood and fresh wounds before she could register why her power wasn’t listening. It was worse than a tranquilizer. Worse than chloroform in a black alley. Aang’s heartbeat pinned her to her seat and ripped out her fangs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Katara remembered that time was a thing that would still pass whether or not she kept breathing. Fresh rain met the wall of windows behind her. Her thumb dragged over the ear of the page. She crawled into the dull thump of his heartbeat and sank into her chair, hiding in his rhythm like it was a cave.

The soft click of the door startled her like it was a strike of lightning, stuttering her breath and rallying her instincts to probe for the nearest skein of water. She shifted, impatient for him to be closer, waiting for enemies to burst from the shadows.

She re-read the same paragraph until he limped — badly, on the left side — to her desk. He paused, thinned Katara’s sanity, and sat in one of the leather chairs across from her. His silence filled the room with static. The full moon taunted her with power for all the wrong problems. The storm put a distance of hisses and low rumbles between them, bleating her pulse against the drums of her ears.

“What are you doing?” Aang gently asked.

Katara propped her head on her fist, her voice like paint peeling from the side of an old ship. “I’m reading.”

“You’ve been staring at that page for seven minutes.”

“I’m reading slowly.”

“You’re sulking.”

She almost looked up. “I am not sulking.”

“And now you’re lying.”

Something made a spark, and Katara slammed her book, still open, on her desk. “I am not lying.”

Her almost-shout did things that the thunder could only dream of, but before Katara could retreat, Aang leaned forward, onto her desk, mirroring her posture and leaving inches between their faces. It brought the smell of the wind in his clothes, and his element tickled her frayed hair from her cheek. His presence was warm. In every way. Warm hues, warm feelings, warm heartbeat, warm memories—

It took longer for the crimson to leave her vision this time. The thin wound wasn’t the worst, but it was the most noticeable, crawling across his face and over the bridge of his nose like a comet touching from beneath one eye to under the other. It was a bleach-white horizon that his eyes sat just above, but what he leveled her with didn’t allow her the freedom to consider her to-kill list in detail.

Katara had been shot, captured, tortured, ransomed, and used as a bartering chip far more times than she dared to remember, but even oceans would part for the look that Aang gave her when she tried to dance around the truth with him and win. She scowled, not that it helped her. Intensity clouded his eyes in a smokescreen, and grey irises darted in short, sharp glances that wouldn’t have been noticeable if he was any further away.

Katara’s finger itched to turn the page. Aang’s breathing had been steady, but when he exhaled again, closing his eyes, it took the strength out of his shoulders and kicked her in the chest.

“You promised you would stop looking into this.”

Katara snapped the book shut and set it aside. “I told you to stay away from the hospital.”

“I had to see her. And you went there, too.”

He didn’t mention a name, but still, Katara’s nails dug into her hands and threatened to draw blood. She seethed, but her fire didn’t phase him. Always him. Only him. Even in her office she was powerless.

Lips pulled into a tight line, she took a calming breath and held it, waiting for it to start working. Aang didn’t look away. His smokescreen was looking more like a storm and shone lightning like steel blades clashing.

She knew what her glare did to good men, and she knew it didn’t work on him, but she looked away all the same. Her eyes found the book, and the pins and needles from her held breath suddenly became the cold gasps of a child who couldn’t run fast enough. She saw the splintering of ancient wooden doors and the darkness that spilled from them. She felt the ice of new irons and the strain they put on growing bones.

And the screams. There should have been screams…

Katara blinked and was back in her office, greeted by the sheets of bullets on her windows and the warm heat of Aang’s attention. She looked at him. He was the same as her gaze had left him.

She didn’t mean to sound so defeated, but she was so tired of losing. “What were you thinking, Aang?”

“Katara, you’re scared and angry and hurt and I get it, but you don’t have to save me anymore. I’m right here.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing. If I don’t fight for you, then no one will.”

She had seen men recoil from a bullet through the heart, but Aang caught himself just before the stage of crumpling to the ground. His gaze dropped, staggering to her necklace and then to her desk. “…I guess you’re right.”

Katara scrambled to pick up his pieces. “That’s not what I—”

“I know.” He splayed his palm, pretending to read the lines. “You didn’t mean it.”

Lightning lit up the room, like a picture being taken. Katara combed back her hair, fiddling with her low ponytail, and gave up trying to keep her empty hands occupied. “Can you just—” She grabbed the air like she could hold onto the problem. “Can you just promise me that you won’t do something like that again? Please?”

It was the closest she had ever — ever — come to begging, but Aang kept his eyes on his palm. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I’m not one of your goons to boss around,” he said, still without looking up, though his brow furrowed with a small crease.

“At least they know their limits. None of this would have happened if you had just let me handle it. This is my family, and that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because you need me, too,” he said, with a soft voice that could shake a stadium. “And I might just be a speedbump to knock you on your ass and make you think twice before you do it anyways, but you’re my family too.”

The silence yawned, hissing with a thick but fine sheet of rain. If it weren’t for her desk, Katara would have hugged him. Probably. Doubt opened a pit in her belly, and her throat threatened to seal shut. Instinct and intuition went to war and left her with the sinking feeling that touching him would just prove how far away he was.

Aang still didn’t look up from his hand. Katara tried to find the right words and, more importantly, how to say them, but all she could manage after so many years of lying was a tender inflection of his name. “Aang…”

“They made me forget your face,” he said, deflating like saying it out loud finally made the scars real. His voice was watery, broken on the last vowel, and took a sledgehammer to Katara’s chest. “And now you…” He gestured. “Now you’re there and I’m here and…” The word died. He paused, then dragged his eyes up to hers. “You think of them when you look at me, so I see them, too. They scare me. And now you scare me. And I don’t want to be scared of you because I don’t want to stop looking at you. But it scares me. A lot.”

“I…Aang, I’m sorry—”

“I know. I know,” he said as he stood. His eyes roamed her empty desk, trying to find something of hers and settling on the book, which broke what was left of him. “…You didn’t mean it.”

Katara stood, but the desk was still in the way. “Aang, wait—”

“I'm going to take a walk to…,” he trailed, more in his own thoughts than in her office. “…I’ll get Zuko so you don’t worry.”

She should have gone after him. She should have done something, but her legs were pillars of cement. The door bled fluorescent yellow light into her twilight and took him, in his red and orange robes from across the world, with it.

Something cold crawled out of the old attic of where her heart was supposed to be. It cracked, weaving thin white scars — like his — in a web across her vision. She braced herself on the desk. There was nowhere to hide. No heartbeat. Not even a wound to distract her with its pain. She closed her eyes and bared her teeth and wished she had the strength to cry without him. Just this once, without him. She was so full and so empty and on the verge of combustion—

Something broke, something small, like a cornerstone, and Katara plopped into her chair. She breathed just like he taught her and eventually rubbed her face. Her bones ached. Everything ached. She was so tired of losing. She just wanted to sleep without knowing that she would wake up, still stuck in her worst nightmare.

Thunder growled above the city. Katara picked up the book. It was blurry, no matter how much she blinked. She dragged her nail over the scuff marks, feeling the minute pilling of old leather like a topographic map of the past.

Aang’s absence reminded her why she was reading, but she wasn’t sure if she could anymore. The book took on the weight of a planet, her arms even moreso.

Realization dawned slowly, like a dog attack in slow motion. The thought was a shadow bleeding out of the tall grass to fill her stomach with ice.

She peeled open the pages, praying to whoever would answer.

It burned. It burned like fire never could. It ate her away from the inside out, like cinders consuming a dry leaf in the time it took to blink.

The raindrops became smaller, like a mist, and gently brushed the windows. Standing was a miracle, but Katara dragged her feet around her desk, falling into Aang’s chair.

It was warm, like his shadow always was. She crawled into the footprint his life left behind, imagining his heartbeat in the hug of plush leather and the smell of salt and sand that reminded her where home was. Katara told herself to breathe and sank into the reasons why. Her legs curled beneath her, like when she was a girl, back when she wore her mother’s dresses to imagine herself a hero and not in three-piece suits to mask bloodstains.

She read the book slowly, from the beginning again, trying to love even the words that hurt. When lightning struck, she held it closer, trying to protect it, even though she knew that she couldn’t.

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

Don’t know if I described it well enough, but Aang’s ‘scar’ (quotes because it eventually seals up into a thin line) is supposed to be like the bottom arch of the Yu Yan archers’ tattoos.

#Kataang #Aang #Katara #avatar the last airbender #ATLA #mafia au #madame writes #Blood In A Blacklight

21 notes · View notes

belit0 · 4 years

Text

Caught in the Act

sharinganslut

can you like have madara ruining your shit and tobirama and hashirama come in and catch you (female reader) thank you i’m just a slut😀 and fuck anon i want people to know i’m horny

We are all horny ppl when it comes to the Uchiha. I fucking support you a lot, I’m like that but with Indra

Rating: E

Pairing: [Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader]

Additional Characters: [Senju Hashirama] [Senju Tobirama]

Tw: Domination, Degrading, Roughness, Some Praising

“Tell me why do I have to be here when this is a favor requested of you?

"Because if I have to suffer Hashirama’s lack of intellect, you as my lover will too. Now find that man’s fucking coat so he can stop bothering me.”

It’s nothing new to witness the leader of the Senju lose and forget his Hokage dressing gown, but it’s something that always causes great annoyance to the leader of the Uchiha. Outraged at his old friend’s lack of responsibility, when Hashirama asks him to help find it for him, Madara only avoids exploding in the air because he knows it’s a good excuse to spend time with you and not working.

“I could be taking a nap at home… Or having some sweet jasmine tea while thinking about the beautiful face you make when you get angry… Maybe even eating something while I remember your muscles on me and- ”

“You’re walking on thin ice, [Y/N]. Shut up and look.”

With a tense posture, Madara passed by you, heading to check out the different rooms of his best friend’s house. Imitating his action, you took a different route from him, and searched the other end of the big building.

Sliding the door of Hashirama’s main room, you hit the target first. On the large two-person bed, stretched out, red and immaculate, lay that piece of cloth that gave reason to your lover’s grumpiness.

Entering the bedroom, you slid your hand over the material, feeling the softness in your fingertips. A mischievous urge attacked your mind, and a great idea to provoke Madara suddenly struck you.

Quickly, to prevent him from catching you in the act, you put on the Hokage garment, which was considerably large. Hashirama was monstrously tall, so the cloth touched the floor and dragged over it when you slid it over your shoulders.

Laughing weakly, you looked at yourself in the mirror on one of the walls, and found that the cloth was not at all flattering in your form. Even more tempted, you tried to keep your composure, and prepared for the stampede that would come upon you in a minute.

“Dear! I found it! But there’s something wrong with it, hurry up up and come have a look!”

After a second, you heard Madara’s footsteps approaching the room where you were, and the anticipation in your chest began to grow. Suddenly, you regretted your stupid joke a little. Walking down the corridor, you heard him talking, without even reaching the door.

“What do you mean by something wrong? If you did something to that damn piece of trash I swear that-”

Posing, you surprised him with a… great… idea. With both arms in the air and over your head, you put on the best smile of satisfaction that your features could have had at his reaction, and despite the growing anxiety in your stomach about his glance, you rejoiced for a second in the situation.

Yes, one second.

From the door frame, the Uchiha was paralyzed by the image you offered to him. His eyes had quickly changed from a deep black colour to a bright red, with an unnerving dancing pattern in them, characteristic of Mangekyōu.

His shoulders were stiff in their stance, his chest was forced up and down by clearly strained breathing, his biceps were increasingly inflated with every second that passed thanks to the two fists he held tightly on either side of his body.

His hair began to bristle, and the tension in the air became extremely heavy. Not brave enough to speak or look him in the eye, you put your hands together in front of your legs, bent your shoulders and your head. Reducing your size as much as possible, as if trying to make yourself invisible to Madara’s terrifying gaze, you waited for the inevitable.

With the voice that made your blood run cold and your hair stand on end, he spoke, intimidating from across the room.

“What… are you… doing… with… that…”

“I-I-”

A grunt erupted from his chest, deep and serious, animalistic, making you exult when it hit your ears. Without courage, you continued to stare at the ground.

“That… belongs… to him.”

You nodded, hoping that your good behavior would calm the beast in front of you.

“You… are… not… his…”

Another nod.

“So, tell me… WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT?”

“I-IM S-SORRY-Y”

“Look at me.”

Trembling and in your reduced form, you raised your head reluctantly, staring at those terrifying red orbs. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was take off that dressing gown once and for all, show Madara that it was a foolish mistake.

“Who is your owner?”

“Madara-Sama.”

You said it without hesitation, quickly after his question, which generated a slight smile of satisfaction on the Uchiha’s face. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you over his nose, he continued.

“Are you mine, or are you his [Y/N]?

"I am all yours Madara-Sama.”

“Kneel before me.”

“Look what a pathetic bitch you are, dressed in that shit, taking my orders without a problem… Tell me [Y/N] Why should I fuck you right now?”

Knowing your man’s habits, you answered.

“Because I’m a stupid little whore who needs your cock right here, right now. Please Madara-Sama, don’t deny it to me, I need you inside my tight pussy.

"Oh well, really? If my slut is so desperate for my dick, you leave me no choice but to give you what you ask for.”

“Please sir.”

“Come here.”

On all fours, knowing what turns him on, you crawled to his feet, where you sat back on your knees and looked at him from below.

“Use your filthy little mouth.”

Obeying his orders, you rose to the height of his hips. Biting the waist of his trousers, you captured the cloth between your teeth, and with experience you lowered it strongly to his ankles.

“What a talented little pup, an expert in doing everything without hands… Go on”

Smiling slightly at his compliment, you repeated the action, but in his underwear, revealing a semi-erect limb, which promised to harden with little effort.

“No hands, or I’ll have to take them off.”

Faced with Madara’s threat, you understood that it was better to stick to his rule than to challenge him, and you introduced his penis into your mouth, maneuvering your head at a strange angle.

Working at a steady pace, his member became rigid in a matter of a couple humid strokes and your task became easier. Moaning at the situation generated by a foolish prank, you devoured your man’s cock with hunger.

After a few minutes in the same rhythm, Madara needed a speed boost, and he grabbed your hair. Combing it into his grip while breathing heavily thanks to your supplies, he held it with one of his big hands, forming a ponytail. With the new security of the hairstyle, he was able to use your hair as a handle to press your head harder against his length. As your nose hit his pelvis and your throat begged for a break, you placed both hands on his thighs, trying to free yourself from his hold.

At that moment, he stopped all activity dead on, but did not allow you to free your mouth. Even with his limb inside your moist cavity, he moved away from you a little to stop the pressure at the bottom of your throat, and spoke.

“I said without hands [Y/N]… Did your hunger for my dick cloud your mind? No problem, I told you that I would take care of it if necessary.”

Without further ado, he took your wrists and held them above your head, fully stretching your arms. Releasing your hair, he gave you the freedom to move as you wished, but now your upper limbs were minutes away from losing circulation and falling asleep, which was a big pain in the ass.

Because that’s what Madara is really like, a big, big pain in the ass.

Taking up your task, you put your best effort to make him cum just with your mouth. Moaning over his member, your pussy was dripping from him to hear him talk, on the verge of his orgasm.

“Oh [Y/N] don’t you dare stop, keep it up, you beautiful obedient whore. Eat my whole cock like it’s all you need, I want to fill that naughty little slut’s mouth with all my cum”.

“Agh… -gasp- [Y/N] -gasp- I’m… I’m…”

A shot of hot liquid hit the bottom of your throat, while you felt his limb throbbing inside your cavity. Swallowing everything he had to offer, you dutifully waited for his release to end.

“What a good puppy… I think you’ve earned the benefit of being rewarded. Take it all off.”

With a broad smile coming from his compliments, you did what he asked, standing completely naked in front of him.

“Put Hashirama’s coat back on.”

Without wanting to contradict him and make him angry again, you took the garment from the floor and dressed it on your naked body, looking at him with curious and expectant eyes.

“In bed, lying on your stomach.”

Putting yourself in the right position, you waited.

“Show me that beautiful ass of mine, rise it up.”

Following his demand, and with your stomach still leaning on the bed, you positioned your legs over your knees, providing an easy entrance for Madara. What you did not expect, is that the Uchiha would continue with his jealousy whim.

Taking Hashirama’s gown in both hands, he tore a hole where your cunt was, accessing it through the fabric instead of removing it from your body.

“MADARA! WE ARE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THIS TO HASHIR- ”

Two fingers were inserted mercilessly inside you without warning, moving towards a specific point that made you moan suddenly.

“You will not say another man’s name when you are giving yourself to me you naughty whore.”

An overpowering spanking hit your skin covered by cloth, making your whole being vibrate.

“Tell me [Y/N], tell me whose pussy is this.”

“…M-Mad-dara’s!”

A third finger entered you, moving at an overwhelming frequency. A second spanking hit your buttock before he spoke again.

“You don’t sound very convinced… I’m going to ask you again. Who is the owner of this pathetic little cunt?”

“MADARA-SAMA!”

His tongue attacked your slit for a few long seconds, before inserting his fingers back into you accompanied by more spanking.

“PLEASE MADARA I BEG YOU.”

“What is it [Y/N]? What does my slut want?”

“I NEED YOUR COCK INSIDE ME, DON’T TEASE ME ANYMORE, PLEAHHHG… -gasp-”

He got into you firmly, using your fluids as sufficient lubrication to slide in. Hashirama’s coat soon found itself soaked in the body liquids flowing from the union between the two bodies, with the hole in the fabric being the main factor in allowing penetration.

Lost in the pleasure of both, drowning in moaning and heat, neither of you noticed when the front door opened and closed, when footsteps sounded down the hall, or when two pairs of curious and surprised eyes stopped to look at the scene unfolding before them.

“M-Madara?”

The Uchiha slammed on the brakes, being able to recognize that voice anywhere. Not coming out of you, he faced the gaze of Hashirama and Tobirama.

Understanding the situation, you refused to face those men, and hid your face in your arms and the leftover cloth, holding your eyes and hoping that the shame would soon be over.

“This… well…"

Without noticing it, his pelvis moved involuntarily towards you, hitting a spot with his member just inside you and making you moan in front of the two brothers.

Tobirama blushed completely, coughing uncomfortably and looking away, while Hashirama seemed not to care at all.

"Is that my dressing gown?

"Yes… we found it…”

“Oh well… oh well… I’ll send you the ticket later… Shall we go Tobi?”

“But brother! They are using your bed, they broke your clothes, they desecrate your room! You should say something to that damn Uchiha instead of…”

A growl of fury escaped from inside Madara, who was still inside you, when Hashirama interrupted before a fight broke out.

“Now, now, Tobi, you’ll understand when you stop being a virgin… come on, there’s a new tea shop I’m really dying to try!”

“HASHIRAMA!”

The front door soon opened and closed again, and at the same time, Madara took his overwhelming step over you, thanking his beautiful friendship with Hashi from the heart.

#uchiha madara #senju tobirama #senju hashirama #madara x reader #madara uchiha x reader #uchiha madara x reader #madara #tobirama #hashirama #x reader #founders #naruto shippuden #naruto x reader #naruto imagines

348 notes · View notes

alreadyblondenow · 4 years

Text

Second Star to the Right | Na Jaemin (TEASER)

✦ Jaemin x reader ✦ Fluff, Smut, Smut, Smut, Angst, Fairy AU ✦ 1/5 for HOLIDAY SERIES: Once Upon A December

Summary: Jaemin is a mere tooth fairy who’s just doing his job collecting teeth became you’re one and only true friend. You have strict parents so you crave for adventure and so Jaemin offered you one and brought you to Neverland. As you two grew old together, you became closer and soon fall in love with each other. Seasons change and so does your feelings towards Jaemin. Will a tooth fairy and a human will have a happy ending?

Warnings: Heavy cheating, swearing, skinny dipping, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex, nipple play, betrayal

A/N: PURE FICTION. Inspired by the fairytale Peter Pan, but not following the main plot. Just the idea of never growing up, fairies and pixie dust. It’s a cute story of saying good bye to your innocence, childhood, and accepting that you’re growing. Nothing heavy don’t worry. if tumblr deletes this in the tags again, i’ll delete this again wahaha

Date: Dec 10

19 years old

Every day with Jaemin is nothing but adventure and new things, but ever since you two started seeing each other and acknowledging your feelings, days have been always sweeter than yesterday. Holding hands while flying, cuddling in your bed before you go to sleep, a lot of stolen and surprise kisses. These things are all new to you and Jaemin, but just like normal teenagers you just let love do its job and enjoy the wonderful feeling of being in love.

It was hot in Neverland today but Jaemin told you he had found another secret place that can make you stop sweating and he’s so proud of it. He brought you to a cave somewhere deep inside the forest but inside that cave, is an underground lake that has cool and very clear water.

“How did you find this? It’s beautiful” you exclaim as you look around the place.

“I just did and it’s my way of making you smile“ he never fails to amaze you. “come on, let’s swim” he was quick to remove his clothes like it was a normal thing for him, he completely forgot that your relationship is not yet on the stage where you’re confident with seeing each other’s naked body.

“Uhm-Jaem,” you tried to avoid looking at his nice body and butt, biting your lip as he stretches his muscles confidently while his back faces you. He had grown confidently lately and not to mention so handsome and manly.

“What? Don’t be shy. But if you’re not comfortable, you can swim wearing your underwear. I don’t mind” he says, not facing you yet. It’s not fair you thought, he trusts you to see his whole being and so should you. You gulped and told him not to turn around until you’re fully naked and upon hearing that, Jaemin became suddenly nervous and blushing but you can’t see it.

“Are you naked now?” he asks, scratching the back of his head as he waits for you to give him permission to see you.

“Y-yeah” you answered. You told yourself that whatever happens, you will not look at his cock but as he turns slowly, you don’t know why your eyes can’t stop looking at it. You felt your cheeks warm and suddenly you became shy and you wanted to cover yourself. But he saw right through you, smiled, and hold your hand before jumping into the water together.

The cool water feels great against your skin as you and Jaemin enjoy the hot afternoon and turn it into a nice new experience for the two of you. Swimming deep into the water, racing against each other, picking up shells, the fun made you both forget that you’re naked and helped you with you’re shyness.

“So did you have fun?”

You were laying on the grass with closed eyes, as you enjoy the warm sunlight peeking from above the cave and at the same time drying your skin before you wear your clothes again. Jaemin is beside you with his shoulder propped and is unbelievably close to you, secretly admiring your naked body and how beautiful you are under the warm sunlight.

“I did. Thank you” you turned your head to face and opened your eyes, “Jaem, what did you feel when you saw me naked for the first time earlier?” you reach for his face and cup it with one hand.

“Shy, at the same time excited because we get to do this but most importantly, I felt lust and my mind was so quick to think about dirty things I want to do- I’m sorry” he was quick to apologize and kissed your hand lovingly.

“No, it’s fine. I felt it too”

Jaemin was taken aback and felt the lust again but this time even stronger that he felt his cock hardens and poke the side of your thigh. “So” he was shy to ask you something but somehow the lust he’s been feeling is giving him the push, “can I try something? If that's okay with you? Baby?”

You only nod, but the way his voice deepens when he asked you made you nervous and excited. Just like Jaemin, you felt the lust he talked about. He came closer, closer, and closer, and until he reaches your exposed shoulder and planted a soft kiss there. But it didn’t end there. He kissed you on the same spot again, but this time he kissed you all the way down until his lips reached your boob and his hot breath is making your nipples sensitive.

His tongue made contact on your nipples first, then you felt his lips, and the next thing you know he’s sucking your right boob. It feels so good that you roll your head back and close your eyes again while letting out soft moans. Soon your hand rests at the back of Jaemin’s head, combing your fingers on his soft locks, and tugging whenever he playfully bites your nipple to make you giggle.

And right then and there your innocence was stained and it was the start of a different exploration and curiosity with Jaemin.

“How?” You were still surprised about what he just did but you love it and at the same time curious.

“Me and the other fairies peek whenever Mark and his girlfriend do it in the woods. Then we’ll tease him after”

“Pervert” you tease him.

“Want to do more?” he offers. You see the lust in his eyes as you look at him. You nod, of course, you want more.

He attacked you with hungry kisses and kneeled in between your legs without hesitation, putting his fingers to work and started touching you on your pussy. Once again you were taken aback by his confident move but instead of getting shy you accepted it and spread your legs wider so he can gain more access to your pussy. Jaemin noticed that his fingers were gliding smoothly on your slit because you were wet and he caused it, he also knew that you’re loving what he’s doing because your moans sound great, you’re rolling your hips, and you’re parting your lips. Which makes him want to dive into lust even more.

“Do you want to do it?” he whispers beside your ear while his fingers still drawing slow circles and gliding up and down your wet slit.

“Sex?” You asked back.

“Yeah” Jaemin started kissing your neck while he waits for your answer.

“If you promise you won’t hurt me”

He’s not stupid. He knew you weren’t talking about the sex. He knew you were talking about what you deserve. Jaemin stopped what he’s doing and kissed your lips sincerely, “I promise. I will never hurt you” he says and kissed you again deeply. It was a sweet promise, you thought and, hearing it made you fall in love with him even more.

Before he proceeds to the sex, he grabs your hand, kissed your knuckles, and made you touch his perfect body slowly, all the way down until you reach his cock. You touched it confidently without leaving his eyes, and you witnessed your boyfriend breathe heavily as you help him pump his cock.

“That’s going inside of you, baby. Ready?”

“Yes”

You feel him line his cock on your very wet entrance, kept his eyes on you as he pushes inside you oh so slowly. You were both virgins and neither of you knew if you’re doing it correctly, but it feels so fucking good that you’re heavily breathing as Jaemin continues to push in. Even tho he wanted to just force his way inside you, he can't because he knew you’re feeling the stretch because you’re so tight. You hiss but you smile, and when he asks you if you’re okay you told him that, “it hurts but I don’t want you to stop”

He chuckled low and said, “okay. But if I do this-“ he rolled his hips without a warning and it made you both moan a little too loud. “You felt that?” he asked, completely mind blown with what a single thrust can do to the both of you.

“Do it again”

And so he did. Again and again and again, until you’re scratching his back and he’s groaning beside your ear deliciously. Telling you how good it feels, praising you with every second that he can, pushing in deeply as he can because you request it.

“I can’t cum that’s dangerous,” he says and he sounded like he’s in pain.

“Shit- right, okay”

Without hesitation and before he loses his mind and makes you pregnant, he pulled out and lay beside you. Stopping himself with all the strength he has left. It was very frustrating for both of you not having the full experience.

“I'm sorry,” he says, heavily breathing beside you still handsome and very inviting.

“You did nothing wrong baby, what are talking about“

“For not making you cum, beautiful. I’ll get your clothes”

You watch him stand up from the warm ground with a hard cock and blushing cheeks. You didn’t cum but still, you felt so weak, and the sting from your pussy is still there. Nonetheless, Jaemin looked so handsome while fucking you, not to mention he sounds sexy. “Here” he helped you get up and handed you your clothes.

Just like that, you made another unforgettable memory with Jaemin that you wouldn’t trade for anything. He sprinkled some pixie dust on your head and flew you back to your room safe and sound.

“I meant what I said earlier. Don’t forget it okay? Just trust me like how you trust my pixie dust to carry you home. I love you” he kissed you on your forehead, smiled so handsomely “see you tomorrow” and left another great promise of seeing each other again.

#nct smut #nct-writers #kpopscape #cznnet #kdiner #neosmutcollective #jaemin smut #nct jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #nct jaemin x reader #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #nct au #nct aus #nct dream smut

134 notes · View notes

some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

Kiibo helps Reader with burnt fingers wash their hair

· You sighed in defeat waking up that morning. It was shower day, the day you’ve been dreading. But it had to be done. You could take care of most of yourself just fine, but your hair… it was rather difficult to care for it with only one hand, so you’d have to use your burnt fingers, not matter how much it hurt.

· You glanced to the corner of the room, finding Kiibo was still shut off, recharging. Though you appreciated Kiibo helping you get your work done before your deadline, given your work became much more difficult with all the fingers of your right hand being burnt, it… it felt weird having him stay up all night with you, it was your work after all, but Kiibo insisted on helping, stating he’d could stay up for a full week without needing to recharge, which evidently was true. Sometimes you were jealous of him. He could recharge and not need to eat or shower, he could just keep going without needing to stop… or feel the pain of burnt fingers. Though he likely had other things to maintain in place of those you knew.

· You winced, feeling the water pelt down on your burnt hand. You wondered how it still was so tender. Seeing your hand uncontrollably, lightly tremble you tried keeping it away from the water or walls or door or anything else.

· On unsteady feet you leaned against the wall, exhaustion threatening to knock you out at any moment. With a yawn you mindlessly reached out for a shampoo bottle, only to yelp out, slipping and falling. You braced for impact, landing on your hands and arms. “Y/N!” You heard more than your name being called, but it was near impossible to make out what the words were amongst the crashing of water. Shakily you sat up, using your uninjured, though slightly stinging hand to shut off the water. “I-I’m okay, Kiibo!” “From that crashing sound to your shaking voice I have reason to believe otherwise!” “J-just tired. Go back to recharging.” “… I realize this may be strange to ask, but can I help in some way?” You clenched your teeth, feeling this pain course through your fingers. “I can handle it. Just have my hair left.” “But won’t that hurt? You told me how bad it was last time.” “Well… I don’t exactly have a choice if I wanna stay clean, now do I.” “…” You were just about to turn the water back on when an unexpected and confusing request was made of you. “Y/N come to the kitchen and bring your hair care supplies!” “… Huh?” “I’ll wash your hair!” Baffled, yet intrigued, you decided to go along with this. Not before quickly drying off and getting dressed that was.

· Entering the kitchen, you found Kiibo had set up a chair before the kitchen sink. “Ah, so we’re trying this salon style.” “Yes! Just leave everything to me!” “But Kiibo… Do you know how to care for hair?” “… There are instructions on the bottles, right?” You chuckled as you took your seat, seeing Kiibo turn slightly sheepish at your question. “It’s simple, I’ll tell you.”

· You leaned your head back into the sink. “Well, the first step is wetting the hair, and that’s already taken care of. Though we will have to rinse later and you’ll need some practice so nothing get’s in my eyes.” “What will happen if it gets into your eyes?” “It’ll sting, a lot.” “I see!” Seeing his slightly flustered yet determined expression made you smile. No matter what, Kiibo always tried his best in everything.

· He first tested the kitchen spray hose away from you, wanting to see how much pressure it had. Then slowly pointed it towards you rewetting your damp hair. “First the shampoo, you massage that into the scalp.” He looked over the bottles, making sure he got the right one. “Oh, about the size of the palm of your hand is enough. It doesn’t take much.” “Alright. Is there anything I should know, any techniques?” “No, no, you just rub it in, nothing complicated.” At first his movements were hesitant and stiff, but he quickly relaxed, and he slowly worked higher and higher to the crown of your head. He kept glancing to your face making sure he didn’t accidentally get any shampoo near your eyes. It was pleasant hearing the soft foaming sound and feeling those metallic fingers massage into you. You’d think it’d hurt, but Kiibo used a light pressure and used the pads of his fingers, not the tips so with more surface the pressure was more spread out. He even occasionally asked if he was hurting you or not.

· “Next we have the conditioner, that more so goes in the middle and lower part of the hair to help detangle it and make brushing easier.” “Oh! So that’s how you get the tiny knots out!” “Exactly. With a brush alone it just gets caught and tightens them.”

· As he worked the conditioner in, he seemed to stop at some point. “I never realized how heavy hair could be when wet. Even without the shampoo and conditioner it’s rather hefty.” “Your hair is not the same?” “My hair is made of synthetic fibers and some metals. Thanks to some carefully placed magnets and a few other things, it can be styled and stay in place without need of hair products!” “Is that why your hair can stay in place even in the harshest of wind or never fall in rain, yet still gently move with the breeze?” “Yes! It can move a little but not much unless I want it too when styling.” “Huh… So what does it feel like? Human hair or something else?” “… Y/N that’s robophobic!” “Hey! Excuse me if I forget you can’t feel different textures! Actually… Can’t Iruma or Dr. Idabashi give you a function so you could feel stuff?” Kiibo was silent for a moment. “Let me guess, I’m still being robophobic.” Kiibo kneeled down beside you. “No. Not the last part, but it’s true that I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” You looked to him with sparkling eyes. “I get to pat Kiibo.” You eagerly pet his hair. “It’s so weird… and silky soft.” There was some resistance, you could pet it, but in general it could all stay in place, so any attempts at playfully ruffling his hair would be in vain. “It’s like… it reminds me of that feeling when you hold those really thin chained necklaces, it’s cool, and seems soft despite knowing it’s metal. Feels like that.”

· “Now all that’s left is rinsing it all out.” “… Huh?” You couldn’t help but laugh seeing how baffled Kiibo was. “H-hey! Don’t laugh at me!” “Sorry, but that expression.” You managed to repress it to a chuckle before continuing to speak. “Just leaving it all in is not healthy. So we gotta wash it out.” “Okay. So… it’s like washing clothes? You put the soap in but also wash it out.” “Yeah, just like that!” “I understand.” Kiibo held the tips of your hair in one hand, the other the sprayer hose but something kept him from pressing the button. “… Uh, tell me if I get soap in your eyes. Those are very delicate, and I don’t want to be responsible for damaging them! You can’t be as easily repaired as me.” “I’ll scream. That should suffice.” He flinched, momentarily turning the hose on, startling himself. He slammed it back into it’s place, fearing accidentally turning it on again. “DON’T SCREAM! You’ll startle me and maybe things will just get worse!” “Alright, fine, I won’t. I’ll just tell you.” Kiibo sighed, crossing his arms. “Thank you. Now, back to washing.”

· He gently ran his fingers through your hair, making sure he washed out every part. He was careful to avoid any knots, knowing pulling on hair could be especially painful. He was here to make life easier for you, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, you were getting enough of that from your fingers. Your hair absolutely fascinated him. It had this glossy shine even after washing the conditioner out. It reminded him of a waterfall how it just flowed down so prettily. Never before had he found something similar to it. It was soothing and almost fun going through it, though his anxiety spiked as he worked his way to the crown of your head faster than he had anticipated. He was very careful to not allow the water to get to your face.

· “Now pat it down so we don’t get water on the floor. Then we just brush, and we’re done!” Kiibo did as told, drying your hair out enough for it to not drip everywhere. You scooched the chair forward so Kiibo could have enough room. “When brushing you need to start from the bottom. If you go from the top, you’ll just tighten the knots.” “That makes sense. I’ll start from the bottom then.” As he brushed, he used one hand to hold a higher part of your hair, hoping that could negate any accidental pulling, but… “Ow!” “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” “Kiibo, it’s alright. I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I am.” “Should I know of anything else?” “Uh… Nothing I can think of.” Hesitantly he went back to work, a part of him fearful of hurting you again. He carefully brushed through it, his nervousness soon subsiding. He found himself getting lost in detangling those knots and the soft sound of your hair getting combed through. When he reached your scalp he opted to brush through with his fingers, thinking the bristles of the brush may hurt you. It… was intriguing seeing his fingers part your hair, getting him to realize just how thin hairs were. It got him to wonder if he truly got all the knots out.

· “Heh, having fun?” “Uh- Huh?” “You’ve been done for a while now, but you keep brushing.” His whole face flushed a bright pink and his face covering shot up, clamping over his mouth. “I, I, I-I, I’m just being thorough! I don’t want to mess up!” “Kiibo, there no need to be embarrassed.” “I’M NOT EMBARASED!” You could help but burst into laughter only making that blush on Kiibo darken to a bright red. “Well, then you don’t have to stop… it felt nice.” “It felt nice?” His embarrassed tone faded, intrigued by your words. “Yeah, like a kind of scalp massage, but not.” “Then allow me.” You hummed in delight, melting into his touch. You loved this. “Thank you, Kiibo. For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.” “I’m just glad to help. Now…” You looked to him in confusion feeling he had placed his hand on your shoulders. “I’ve heard shoulder massages are very relaxing. Relax, and let yourself fall asleep. You’ve been up for a week straight. We’ve gotten all your work done, you’ve taken care of yourself so there’s nothing left to tend to except for your energy, so, like everything else, allow me to assist with this.” “Kiibo, you’re too kind.” “… If that is the case, I don’t see what that has to do with this.” “… Well, you didn’t reject the compliment, so I’ll take it.” “Take what, exactly?” “Never mind. I’m just tired.” He smiled, seeing your eyes already starting to droop. “I’ll get started then.”

165 notes · View notes

inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

All I Want (2/4)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: swearing, mild smut

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Sirius convinces Y/N to take a little risk which leads them to trouble

Masterlist

Sirius

"I need Y/N to go with me," I complain to my friends as we settle around the table in the Great Hall.

"Why do you need Y/N to go with you?" James questions idiotically. "You could ask Marlene, that girl from potions, what about-"

"Y/N is the only option," I emphasize, growing annoyed that no one else understands.

"Since when?" Remus interjects as he flips open his textbook.

"Since she told me no!" I repeat what I told them last night.

"Ooh, so this is all to prove a point?" James accuses with a raised brow.

"No! I genuinely want to go with her!" I justify.

"She's probably just giving you a hard time, playing hard to get. Give it time," James tries to reason. "Keep up with the compliments and maybe even give her a gift or something!"

"You could just ask her publicly so she can't say no," Remus suggests uncharacteristically.

James and I share the same confused expression.

"What do you mean, Moony?" I frown.

"Do it here," he clarifies.

"In front of everyone?" Peter sounds astonished.

"That's sort of what 'public' means..." Remus sasses.

I shake my head. "Y/N would hate it. She hates being the center of attention."

"But it would grab her attention," Remus points out a matter-of-factly.

"I don't know guys..." I'm hesitant to do something so extreme when she was fine with rejecting me in front of our friends.

"I think it would be great!" Peter gleams, enthused by the idea.

"You also thought bringing snacks to the Shrieking Shack last month was a great idea," James reminds him disapprovingly.

"I forgot I had the cinnamon roll in my pocket okay!" Peter huffs.

"Hush!" I hiss at the group quietly. "Y/N is coming!"

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the most beautiful girl approach us, surrounded by Marlene and Evans. Her perfect Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. I've always known that Y/N is beautiful, but lately, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It's weird, foreign to me.

___________________________

Y/N

"And then I wrote back to my mom and told her no," I tell Lily. "So I think I'll be able to visit you this summer for sure!"

Lily squeals, gripping my arm with excitement. "You can go on holiday with my family to the lake!"

When we reach our usual spot with the boys already there, I take my seat beside Sirius. Lily sits on my opposite side, already in deep conversation with Marlene to make plans this summer.

"Spending the summer with Evans?" Sirius inquires with a cheeky grin.

"A few weeks at the start," I explain. "Her family is taking a trip and invited me."

Sirius leans close to me and whispers, "I would pay large sums to see you spending hours laying in the sun."

I playfully nudge him away with a giggle. Goodness, he's such a painful flirt sometimes.

"What if after you visit Evans, you and I go on a holiday of our own?" He suggests mischievously as he turns his body toward me.

"You and me?" I giggle as I pour myself some juice. "I think we wouldn't even make it out of London."

"Just think about it. You, me, on a beach... We could spend weeks alone in a cottage somewhere," he describes as he leans in close. I can feel his lips brush against my ear as he guides my hair back over my shoulder. "No distractions. Days and days of us doing whatever we want for, wherever we want, as long as we want..." he insinuates.

Chills course down my spine as Sirius glides his fingers down my back to my waist. I turn my head to the side to meet his jet-black gaze. Mere inches from one another, we stare into each other's eyes longing. Merlin, he's a vision, isn't he? Even though I see every day, it's never enough.

His lips part as his vision falls to my mouth. "Want to get out of here?"

I nod frantically and he's already a step ahead of me, rising from the bench.

"We're gonna... uh... we're gonna go for a walk," he stammers as he takes my hand.

James chuckles knowingly, "yeah sure."

"Use protection," Remus instructs casually without even glancing up from his textbook.

“Remus!” Lily gasps his name in disapproval.

“A spell, Lil!” He smirks, giving Sirius and know glance. “You never know what’s poking around on these “walks” if you know what I mean...”

“Oh dear heavens,” Lily grumbles while the remaining Marauders chuckle.

Sirius eagerly tugs me toward the entrance of the Great Hall. I snicker as I struggle to keep up with his speed-walking. He combs his fingers through his long jet black hair with a childish grin.

Once we make it out of the Great Hall, Sirius glances back at me and we break out into a race. Hand-in-hand, we run down the corridor, weaving between students to get to the nearest empty room. To my surprise, Sirius skids to a stop and yanks me into the closest alcove. Tucked away is a hidden stairwell by the courtyard. Sirius presses me against the stonewall and brings his lips to mine hungrily. His hands roam my body as they've done so many times before. The way he knows exactly what to do like clockwork amazes me. I want to slip into the sensation and just forget the world, yet I can't.

"Sirius," I mumble against his lips.

He hums, not willing to stop.

"We should stop," I pant.

I'm speaking these words as they're what my mind is telling me what to say, but my body is telling me to do the opposite.

"Don't want to," Sirius wittily remarks.

I giggle, making him smile against my lips. "But we should before anyone sees."

He breaks away from my lips and starts at my neck. "Let them," he determines. "I don't care."

Okay, that's hot. His ability to be so carefree and willing motivates me to be the same. Since the moment I met him, Sirius has driven me to break through my boundaries and reach for me. It isn't fair that he's so perfect. Everything about him is irresistible.

"Don't you want to?" He whispers and the warmth of his breath brushes against my neck.

My eyes fall shut as my fingers comb through the hair on the nape of his neck.

"You know I do," I sigh.

"Then why shouldn't we?" He urges mischievously.

A can name a hundred reasons, but here the moment I can't think of any. Will it ever stop, the pining for him? He's always in my thoughts.

"We'd be breaking the rules. If we get caught-"

"Detection would give more time alone. More time to-"

"Mr. Black! Ms. Y/L/N!" McGonagall's voice echoes through the corridor.

"Fuck!" Sirius curses under his breath and parts from me swiftly.

"I told you!" I hiss quietly.

The sound of her heels vastly approaching makes my heart race. We're in such trouble.

McGonagall appears in the archway leading out to the alcove. She must've seen us through the windows of the courtyard. She wears a disappointed and bewildered expression.

"Mr. Black and Ms. Y/L/N, this not the time nor the place for your endeavors!" She puts ever so lightly. "Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall for supper?"

"We um...We..." I stammer anxiously, at a loss for words.

I never get in trouble. I may act rebellious here and there, broken a few rules, but I've never been caught. I've never done anything that requires discipline.

"It was my idea, Minnie! Entirely my idea," Sirius takes the full blame.

"Well, I sure hope so as this is entirely unlike you, Ms. Y/L/N!" She looks at me with pure disappointment and I feel the same.

"I'm so sorry, Professor!" I apologize instantly.

My heart is in my throat. If my parents hear about this, I'm royally screwed! One, they'll be furious that I've received detention. Two, they don't even know that Sirius and I are... well... whatever we are.

"Detention after school tomorrow," McGonagall determines.

"No please!" I try to plead, but McGonagall raises her hand for me to save my breath.

"Be in my office right after your last class," she declares as she turns back down the hall.

Sirius follows her without a moment's hesitation. "Professor please! Allow me to take all the blame," he sighs. "It isn't Y/N's fault!"

I follow behind the pair, praying Sirius can change her mind. They're close and I know McGonagall has a soft for him.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'it takes two to tango,' Mr. Black?" McGonagall wittily replies, not giving at all to Sirius's pleading.

"I'll do both my and Y/N's detentions! Add a third even!" He requests.

McGonagall releases a deep sigh and as she slows to a halt. I stop a few steps behind as she glances between Sirius and me. Then, she turns to address Sirius directly.

"I respect your willingness to take the fall for Ms. Y/L/N, it's very noble of you. Yet, my mind is made up," she declares calmly.

I hide my face in my hands with a deep sigh. This is going to be terrible. My parents are going to kill me! I've made it to seventeen without a single thing on my record and within ten minutes that achievement went down that drain. All for a hot piece of ass too, unbelievable!

"In light of this being Ms. Y/L/N's first offense-" McGonagall announces, causing me to glance up at her, "-I will not be contacting your parents and it will not go on your record. However, you will use the detection time to think of your actions!"

A massive height lifts from my chest and Sirius grins. I exhale deeply and approach the pair with relief. Sirius reaches for my hand and I swat it away. Now is not the time! I see a hint of amusement on McGonagall's face at my action.

"Thank you, Professor! It'll never happen again!" I guarantee her.

"I sure hope not!" She replies. "Keep in mind there are First Years around!"

"Yes Ma'am," I nod.

When Sirius doesn't respond I below him in the side, causing him to wince.

"Right, right," he agrees absentmindedly, as he doesn't care. "Keep out of sight of children."

McGonagall huffs, but never the less hurries along down the hall, knowing she'll never reach Sirius.

"That's not what she meant," I hiss between my teeth quietly as we watch McGonagall walk away.

Sirius chuckles, "I know. I just like pushing her buttons a little."

"Well, your pushing almost got me in immense trouble!" I remind Sirius as I turn to start back to the Great Hall.

His fingers wrap around my wrist and yank me back to him, causing me to land in his chest. I attempt to wiggle out of his hold as he slips his arm around my waist, but then he uses his free hand to grip my chin. He forces me to look him in the eyes as he chuckles. He truly doesn't care that we just got detentions. I guess it's just another notch on the stick for him, huh?

"Don't fret Y/N, this will be fun," he voices confidently.

"How can you be so sure?" I grumble. "It's detention."

"What's life without a little risk?" He winks and brings leans in for a kiss.

Sirius Black will be the death of me.

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @agirlwholovescoffee @hyperactiveravenclaw @fleurho @rangergranger11

62 notes · View notes

vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

🍋 Good Boys In Red

✴︎ GOOD BOYS IN RED ✴︎

3.4 words. In which it’s Julian job to be a good boy, and Anatole’s to show him how to.

CWs: Dom/sub dynamics, impact play, masturbation instruction, penetrative sex, oral sex, light manhandling, and brief height difference mentions.

Before you read! This fic also includes explicit descriptions of a transmasculine person’s genitalia. If you are trasnmasculine and that kind of mentions may be squicky to you, proceed as you see more fit.

If you’re not, treat the subject with the appropriate respect.

Minors DNI — 🍋🍋🍋 content ahead.

You can find the og harness which inspired Julian’s in this piece here.

The harness was made of red leather with golden bucks and rings. It had a strap that looped behind his neck and into a hogtie, where three other straps began. One went down the middle of his chest, the other two over his chest, into its sides and behind his back.

The former joined two leather straps that went over the underside of his chest. Two adjustable straps went down in a V shape framing his cock — they connected to the straps under his chest, and to another which went through his back. The rings which connected those also had two chains, one per side, connecting to two thigh belts. The strap behind his back had another golden ring, which connected to the V-shaped straps framing his cock, now going up his ass like a thong.

The cuffs around his wrists could be locked at any level where a connecting ring was found. Right now, they were tied with a double fixation to the rings over his ribs.

When he put it on after Anatole told him to step into something pretty for him, he had indeed felt pretty. He wanted to look so, too. Julian wanted to look so pretty for Anatole that he’d do anything he wanted with him. He wanted to be a pretty thing he could fuck and serve himself with and by the look Nana had given him when he stepped out he had done good.

He loved being Anatole’s good boy too.

Now, with his hands cuffed and tied, his face down against the mattress and his ass up in the air he didn’t just feel pretty, he felt exposed. He had one of his cheeks against the bed, following Anatole’s movements with his eyes. He was wearing a pair of black, high waisted thongs with a high cut and a lace trim that made Julian want to bury his face between Anatole’s thighs and be smothered there for evermore.

But Anatole wasn’t paying attention to him yet, or not overtly. He was weighing a crop, slapping the heart-shaped tip softly against his own hand. Julian wanted a lot of things, like being touched, or fucked, or used, but the gentle thwap of the crop and Anatole’s eyes on him were making him go a little crazy.

He’d settle for anything, he’d do anything.

“Let’s see if you can stand up to ten, sweetheart,” God, Julian loved that tone, the cocky, honeyed nonchalance only Anatole would be able to make work so well, “I want you counting. If you fail to count, I’ll repeat the hit until you do. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Anatole smiled at him, like he could devour him. Like he would devour him, but not before playing with him until he begged for the small mercy of death.

“Good boy.”

Julian swallowed, a shudder going down his spine as Anatole teased him by caressing his thighs with the tip of the crop. He whimpered as the tip went softly over his balls. Anatole smiled again before retreating the crop and—

Smack. Julian gasped with the first impact. He should’ve seen it coming.

“One.”

Nana did it again. “Two—”

The crop in question was new, something they both had been wanting to try out for a while now, but hadn’t had the time to do it. Now here they were, Julian once again forgetting Anatole was good at swinging things. If he wasn’t already lost in the sting of it, the condensed heat over his skin when the crop met his butt cheek and the jolt of pleasure that came with it, he’d mention to Nana how he wasn’t expecting parry-riposte rapier swings to be a transferable skill.

He could make a mental note to ask him afterwards, but he had just called swing number five and thinking was nearly impossible. It’d have to wait.

He barely made it to ten. Julian was torn between not saying it, wanting to feel the crop against his skin one more time, and begging to be fucked already, his hard cock bobbing softly against him as he swayed in place after feeling the tenth swat, the pain being almost too big (in the best of ways) to stay still.

Calling out the number won.

He allowed himself to go a little limp, or as limp as possible considering both the attire and his position as Anatole called him a good boy. His ass was full of heart shaped crop marks, all in different stages of fading away.

He kneeled over him to kiss his back, his hands ghosting over his stomach, his fingers brushing against his happy trail. Julian’s cock twitched.

“Sir, please touch me. Please fuck me. I have been good. I want to be your slut— please.”

Anatole kneeled back and got out of the bed. “No,” he said, nonchalant as could be.

“Please, sir.”

With one hand on the crook of his arm and the other in a fist around Julian’s hair, Anatole pulled him back, making him sit on his heels. Julian moaned with the hair tug, and while he softened his fist, he pulled his head further back, so he could kiss his neck while he undid the restraints attaching the cuffs to the harness.

“No, sweetheart. You’re cute when you beg, but if you stopped being an overeager little slut for a moment and let me talk—“ Julian nodded, Anatole kissed and nipped at the hollow of his throat. “That’s a good boy. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know you can’t help being my overeager little slut, which is why I’m here, to channel all of that into something useful, hm? You like being used, don’t you, Ilya, sweetheart?”

“I love when you use me, sir.”

“Are we green?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you won’t mind preparing yourself for me, would you?”

“But— but.”

“Is my sweetheart being ungrateful?”

Anatole’s warning tone was nothing like the nonchalant sweetness he used to instruct him around. It had more teeth, it was a materialised warming. It made Julian scramble to his knees to prove himself, anticipating the tortuously long consideration his partner would give him before assessing him in any way. “No, no, I could never, I just wanted you to touch me, please.”

“But that isn’t giving you something to do, is it? I do love pampering you, but you’ll have to wait a little longer, sweetheart. Can you do that, or shall we call it a night?”

“No! No, I’ll be good.”

“Yes, I believe you will. Finger yourself for me. I want you stretched properly, so you can take all my cock with ease, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No touching yourself, I was your hands in your ass, not on your dick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And go slowly. I didn’t get to enjoy any of the wine I poured when we were just talking, and I would like to have a nice show to watch while I do enjoy it now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Keep being this good for me, sweetheart, and you’ll get exactly what you want.”

Julian could do that. He could be good. As Anatole took a seat on his armchair, legs swung over the armrest, Julian reached for the lube and slicked his fingers under his partner’s gaze. Anatole’s eyes never left him, not even when he took idle, small sips of wine.

They had been sharing a glass before they began having sex, but Anatole spent most of his time then rubbing Julian’s shoulders as they made conversation. Now he got to taste the wine while he instructed Julian on how many fingers and how to move them, watching raptly as minutes passed and one turned to two, and two to three.

Julian’s cheeks were flushed, his lips parted as he moaned; though he wasn’t being loud, he held back no sound, no pant, no half cry that ended with a hiss as he bit his lower lip, pushing his fingers a little higher.

He was a sight for sore eyes, and Anatole told him. So pretty with his long lines, and the harness framing him, so pretty with half lidded eyes and fluttering eyelashes. Julian looked debauched, pleasure etched on his face, faint bite marks on the base of his neck, his cock bobbing as he fingered himself — or perhaps it was how his ass was still sensitive from all the smacks of the crop and he had to sit on it.

Gods, Anatole loved him like this.

But Julian couldn’t finger himself forever, as tempting as it was for Anatole to have him do just that and slide his own hand between his legs, touching himself as Julian put on a show for him. No, he had other plans for his own orgasm but first he had other plans for Julian too. He commanded him to stop fingering himself after asking how ready he thought he was; if he had stretched himself like he had told him, too.

“In that case, I want you to get my harness, and I want you to get my dick, and you’re putting them on.”

Julian indulged him, dropping to his knees to put it on Anatole, pulling it up and adjusting after he stepped into it. From his knees, Julian looks up at him, then at his cock, licking his lips.

“Well, open up if you want to have your mouth put to use so badly.”

Anatole pushed the tip of his cock against Julian’s lips, finding them pliant and already opening for him as he pushed his cock inside his mouth. He could fuck his mouth a little, as a treat.

“Do you like that?” He said, as he thrust in and out of his mouth. “Do you like seizing my cock up with your mouth so you can imagine how it’d feel inside you?” Julian moaned around it; Anatole pushed deeper into his mouth on purpose.

“Or do you just like to be on your knees for me? You do look good sucking dick, so perhaps you have the right idea, sweetheart.” He ran his fingers through his hair, combing it back. “It’s certainly one of your best qualities. What do you think, sweetheart?”

Julian let go of Nana’s dick with a wet pop, the curve of his mouth turning into a smarmy grin. “I think my best quality is being a good pair of holes for you to fuck.”

Anatole laughed. “I think you have a lot of best qualities, but when you put it like that— shall we test your claim sweetheart?”

This time, Julian’s cuffs ended up tied to the ring on his lower back, though he was in the same position as before: his face against the bed, and on his knees. Nana moved the straps apart, teasing Julian’s asshole with his thumb. After slicking himself up with lube and warning him not to come without his permission and waiting for Julian’s reply, he pushed in.

“Yes, ah, fuck, yes—”

Anatole spanked him once before gripping his hips and starting to move, thrusting in and out of Julian with long, angled strokes, alternating his pace, but having no intention to fuck him in any other way than hard. It was how Julian liked it, it was how he himself liked it.

His cock had spellwork done in that allowed him to feel as much as he wanted to. He controlled that. Normally, he wanted to feel it all, but today he opted for the faintest of levels. He wanted to feel Julian clench around him, he wanted to feel his tightness and the heat without making himself go too close to the edge. He planned to fuck him long, he planned to fuck him until he cried and see how many orgasms could Julian beg for.

Julian sounded filthy, his moans and sounds mixing with the sound of skin slapping skin as they fucked. If that wasn’t indicator enough of how he felt, with his hands handcuffed behind his back Anatole could see him dig his own nails against his palm. Mouth-watering, a vision, delightful, were all ways to describe him like this, fucked and hungry, and ever so eager to be used until next week.

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this, sweetheart?”

Julian’s yes was barely a word.

“Out of words already? I like my sluts to answer me with words when I talk to them. No words? You’re so fucking desperate, already. Such a desperate, eager slut for my dick. Do you like it when I tell you how warm you feel? How tight? How easy you take me despite it?”

Anatole untied his cuffs. “On your hands, come on.”

He adjusted himself so he could keep fucking him while tugging on his hair at the same time. The moment Julian felt Anatole go for the grab on his hair, he arched his beck, bending himself as much as he could backwards, wanting to feel the tug that came with Anatole’s fingers finding his hair.

Nana pulled him back a little more. “I said I liked my sluts to answer me with words when I talk to them. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, yes, ah, anything for you, anything for you Tolen’ka.”

“That’s very sweet of you but it’s not going to make me go slower.”

“I don’t want you to go slower, I want you to use me like— fuck, please, sir, let me come.”

“Let you come? So soon? No.”

He whimpered a yes that Anatole made him repeat, but he said ‘green’ when he checked, so he saw no reason to stop. Even if he decided to be a little indulgent and slow down the pace a little, to make it easier on Julian.

For a moment, Julian thought it would be fine, he really did and he really tried. In hindsight, that he had called Anatole ‘Tolen’ka’ should’ve been an indicator that he was not going to last under any circumstances. His arms gave out under him when he came, so he ended up propped on an elbow and his hand, though his arm bent. He came hard. There was no way Anatole wouldn’t be able to tell he did.

Of course not, he had his dick inside him, and he knew how he sounded like when he came. They both went still, a sudden rush of affection making it hard for Nana to keep a straight face. He was flattered about it, but Julian knew how this was. The rules were clear, and this was on him for telling him ‘green’ when he suspected he might not be able to hold his orgasm until he had permission.

Anatole cleared his throat. “I believe I told you you couldn’t come unless I told you so.”

“I’m sorry, Nana, it just felt too good.”

“You told me green, though. And I don’t think I’ve given you permission to call me Nana again, have I?”

He did have the decency to sound sheepish. “Yes… and no.”

“Hm, well then, and I thought you could be good for me. This is clearly on you. Fucking and coming is a reward for good boys only.”

Anatole pulled out.

No, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Julian was supposed to be good, he was supposed to hold out and take Nana’s cock until he couldn’t walk, until he couldn’t form words, until Anatole decided he had been good enough, asking him to come for him one more time, only one more, and Julian would do it. Then he would beg for Nana to sit on his face, he’d beg to remove his cock and its harness just like he had put them on, and bury his tongue into the slick heat of Anatole—

He heard water. When did Nana make it to the bathroom? Was he cleaning his—? No, this couldn’t be it. He didn’t want it to be it yet, he wanted to be good. So he begged: he followed the sound and begged Anatole to touch him again, peppering kisses on his face and putting his hands on his waist. Anything, he said he would do anything.

“Anything?” Anatole asked, a double edged question on his double edged tongue.

“Anything.”

“That’s a lot of things I could do—” Anatole paused, a hum on his lips as he looked at himself and Julian in the mirror.

He pushed him against the wall, pinning him down on his biceps. “Stop looking at us through the mirror, I know my ass is pretty but do pay attention to me, sweetheart.”

Anatole shifted one of his hands to push Julian back with his hand on his sternum, standing on his toes, leaning his weight on him. He held his chin firmly so he looked at him and not at their reflection. Anatole’s lips were close enough to brush Julian’s, but he didn’t let him move forward to kiss him when he tried.

“You are here to serve, sweetheart, you do know that, don’t you?”

“I- I do, sir.”

Anatole ordered him to lie down on the bed, legs spread wide and open for him. He took the riding crop, moving it up and down the soft skin of his inner thighs. He called it a nice reminder before making him count up to six: three heart-shaped marked hits per thigh. Afterwards, he found a plug and grabbed one of his thighs to keep his legs apart, pushing the plug into Julian’s ass.

“Just in case I decide to fuck you again. Now, if you’re here to serve, to be a good boy for me, then I should be the one coming, shouldn’t I?”

Nana ushered him into the floor and on his knees with the crop before casting it aside and sitting on the edge of the bed. His foot found Julian’s shoulder, pushing back teasingly.

“Make it worth my time, why don’t you, Ilya?”

He said his name in the same way he said ‘sweetheart’ when it was both a beckoning and a warning.

Julian grabbed Anatole’s ankle, letting his mouth leave a trail of kisses over his calves, first the right one, then the left one, determined to worship every inch of his skin until he was close enough to his groin.

“Please?” He said, licking his lips in anticipation.

Anatole’s response was yet another hair tug to pull him closer, spreading his legs and swinging him behind his head and around his ears.

“Eat up, sweetheart.”

He looked down at Julian with a cocky brow, angling his hips to grind against his mouth as it’s warmth met his folds, going past them into the slick heat between his thighs. Julian only moved to tell him how good he tasted and to thank him, sucking on his clit as soon as he had his face buried between his legs again. He lapped at him with his tongue, fucking him with it. He moaned against Anatole when he tugged his hair or gripped his skull, encouraged to keep going by the sounds now leaving Anatole’s lips.

It felt good. The gentle pressure against his clitoris and the way Julian’s nose brushed it when he buried his tongue into him. It felt good to have his tongue circle his entrance, go down and then all the way up to suck on his clit again. Julian was good with his mouth, he had always been. Nana lost count of all the times they’ve found themselves like this, all the scenarios, all the places and the circumstances. Those always changed: the kitchen, the shower, his office, the library, the gardens, Julian’s clinic, once most notably under a staircase. What never changed was how his mouth felt on him.

Julian looked up at him between his legs as he ate him out. Once more Anatole found himself lost in it. He didn’t let him stop after he came once, nor twice, though he did let him move back for air. The third time round Anatole found himself sitting on his face, pulling his hair back as his mouth hung open, gasping as his tongue circled his clitoris again.

Maybe he would fuck him again, he thought as he rode his face. A mouth as good as that undid any trespass.

#the arcana #the arcana lemon #🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋#🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞#julian devorak #the arcana julian #julian #aelius anatole #julinana #my writing #the arcana apprentice #the arcana oc #apprentice x julian #julian x mc #julian x apprentice

55 notes · View notes

nightfayre · 4 years

Text

a young!qiucheng at a party prompt request for @itssomekindofheaven! thank you so much for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy!!

///

“Enough.”

There were many different ways Qiu imagined their reunion to be. Most of them involved surprise entries; a pair of motorcycle keys left on the countertop for Cheng to find in the morning, or the half-cracked bedroom door across the hall that hadn’t been opened since he left, beckoning curiosity. Others of them involved hard glares — a moment of shock (”When... did you get back?”) as well as bitterness (”Wouldn’t you like to know.”) — and perhaps a dose of silent treatment to ensure the message was well received.

But Qiu never considered either of them to be that theatric, nor that inclined to waste such time, and so none of that ever came to fruition. Instead, now, Qiu watched the effect of the command unfold before him.

Enough.

Cheng, kneeled before He Tian with a wet cloth that he dabbed disdainfully against the red stain on He Tian’s dress shirt, turned to look up at Qiu. His eyes caught the irritated sweep of Qiu’s gaze — widened only for a moment — and then held it.

“Enough of what?” Cheng asked, drawn. Qiu was surprised to find no bitten severity behind the words, which had increasingly become Cheng’s standard disposition over the years. Instead, he was calm, and in front of him He Tian rocked back on his heels, abashed by the salsa that had still coated his fingertips when Cheng found him — and a shattered serving bowl — in the kitchen. His older brother had made quick work of scolding him, then stiffly comforting him when He Tian began to pout, then aiding in removing the stain before the maids (or worse, father) found out.

Qiu had watched it all happen from across the room as he feigned interest in a family head’s state of affairs. When the opportunity came, he made some lame excuse to find himself here, now, looking down on the celebration’s main attraction playing babysitter. And while regular fuck-ups on young He Tian’s behalf were never exactly surprises, tonight it made something in Qiu’s mouth go particularly sour.

“There’re others who are responsible for him tonight,” Qiu told Cheng now. “Let him be.”

He Cheng’s mouth quirked, and he turned away to dab at the stain again. “He’s my brother.”

“And it’s your birthday,” Qiu said, frowning. He jerked his head over his shoulder where small crowds littered the marble floors of the He’s dining hall, gathered in tight circles as they prodded at finger foods. “People traveled to see you.”

I’m here to see you, idiot.

“They came to see my father,” Cheng amended, flat. “Don’t get us confused.”

“Well,” Qiu said, then said nothing more, because Cheng gave him a look that warned Don’t start and, frankly, Qiu didn’t have the energy tonight. Instead, he turned to He Tian, who looked up at him with a mixed expression of fear and anxiety thinly veiled by bravery. Little lion man, Qiu often called him, and he was often reminded of the truth behind such a nickname.

“You have other shirts, don’t you?” Qiu asked him. “In your room?”

He Tian nodded. “But father told me I wasn’t allowed to go upstairs tonight. They locked my door.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Qiu muttered. He stopped a passing servant balancing a platter of drinks, and the man bowed his head with respect. “Take He Tian with you,” Qiu ordered, “and find a house maid. He needs a new shirt. And—” a glance at Cheng, who frowned, “—don’t let Mr. He see.”

The servant looked where Cheng — broad shoulders draped in a dark, pressed suit and hair neatly slicked back — kneeled before his little brother on the kitchen tiles. It was a sight to behold. “Yes, sir,” the man said.

He Tian glanced to his brother, who eventually relented with a scowl and nodded with permission, dropping the cloth. Sheepish, He Tian followed the servant toward the nearest loitering maid, picking at the shirt stain as if that would make it go away faster.

“Don’t give me that look,” Qiu said as Cheng stood, silent but telling in the way that his lips pressed and his eyes, dark and severe, leveled on him. “You’re not his fucking parent. You have other shit to worry about.”

“This event isn’t any different than the others I’ve attended,” Cheng replied, mouth pulling at the edges. “Don’t be so damn sentimental. They’ll eat you alive for it.”

“Who? Your daddy?” Qiu scoffed. “I don’t care.”

Cheng tilted his head. “Your payroll would beg to differ.”

“I’ve just spent five months overseas for his ass. If he wants to fire me over a salsa stain, then I’ll start packing my bags.”

“Bags? Plural?” Cheng shook his head. “You could fit the shit in your room in a single backpack.”

Qiu scowled. “Sorry I don’t have the luxury to drop all my money on useless shit like you. Like cars.”

It had the intended effect. Cheng regarded him, surprised. “You already know about that?” he asked after a moment.

Qiu leaned back, the wall firm against his shoulder blades. He’d taken off his suit jacket an hour ago because he was hot, and because he was irritated watching Cheng interact with the party’s guests without ever thinking to greet Qiu, too. The thought in itself made him crave a cigarette. He still did. “Yeah, I do. Heard it from one of the guys because, apparently, you don’t know how to fucking text. Or call.”

There was a pause; a moment in which Cheng only watched him, stoic like his father but quiet in every way that wasn’t his father. Qiu suppressed the urge to reach forward and drag his fingers through Cheng’s gelled hair and fuck up every perfect strand if only to prove that Cheng was only twenty-three — no, twenty-four now — and nothing of what Mr. He tells him to be. To do. That Cheng was right: this party was for his father, even though Cheng’s name was on the invitation, but that doesn’t mean Cheng didn’t deserve more than a calculating, decisive look from all the guests he greeted. That he didn’t deserve more than going to bed after all the guests have left and the house staff cleans up their mess and his only thoughts being of tomorrow’s agenda, and his little brother’s wellbeing, and the empty chair that sat next to his father during the dinner.

God, Qiu could give him more than that.

“I’ve been busy,” Cheng told him now, his voice lowered so that Qiu knew that this was an apology, and that Cheng, in some fashion, meant it.

Qiu didn’t accept it. “Not busy enough to avoid buying another fucking Hongqi though, huh?”

Cheng exhaled, in the same way he exhaled when He Tian bothered him while he was trying to work: worn, but understanding. “I’m serious, Qiu. I was busy. And I didn’t want to distract you while you were abroad, either.”

Qiu frowned. “Distract me? With what? A single phone call just so I know you’re still alive? What the hell does distract even mean?”

“You know what it means.”

There was a pause; another servant passing them with a quiet apology even though they were the ones taking up space in the doorway. Then Cheng shifted on his feet, slipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers.

“She’s a beauty,” he offered. “The Hongqi. I wanted it to be a surprise when you came back. But she’s in the garage, just polished. Want to go see her after...?” He made a vague wave of the hand towards the dining hall.

Qiu’s jaw set. “No, actually. I’m still jet lagged from the plane ride this morning that you never greeted me from and I want to get some sleep tonight.”

Cheng frowned. “Ah-Qiu—”

“Forget it. I need a smoke.”

As Qiu turned and headed for the nearest exit, Cheng sighed again, irritated. “For fuck’s— You’re joking. Qiu.”

Qiu was already pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket as he walked. “Yeah, because you’re always so receptive to a joke, aren’t you, He Cheng?” he muttered.

Cheng didn’t respond, but followed him out. People only gave them a passing glance as they went by, sometimes a nod or a half-smile once they recognized Cheng as his father’s son. But soon they were alone, warm evening air dragging away smoke tendrils from the glowing end of Qiu’s cigarette as he walked the stone pathway. The sky was a deep orange hue like that of a wildfire, tainted by a dark, creeping purple at the edges. The gardens hadn’t been touched much since Mrs. He’s passing earlier in the year, but Qiu followed the edge of it nonetheless, coming to a stop at the iron gate that was cold through his sleeves when he leaned his elbows on it.

He said nothing when Cheng appeared at his side, and the two stood in silence as Cheng sparked a lighter and held the flame to his own cigarette until it caught.

For a while, they only looked upon the shadowed landscape of the He estate; the small rolling of hills disturbed by the forest, trees’ silhouettes protruding out like teeth on a comb. Qiu wondered how long it would take for a single match to leave the hilltops barren and charred. Then, Cheng spoke.

“How was it?” he asked. His voice sounded louder here, away from the house. “The trip.”

Qiu glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then looked forward again.

“Same ol’ shit,” he answered blandly. “Every city looks the same to me. Nothing worth mentioning. And I couldn’t even understand the fucking language they were speaking during the meetings, either. Waste of my time. I was muscle and not much else.”

Cheng nodded, absentminded, like that made sense.

And then he said, in little more than a mutter: “I thought of you.”

Qiu’s brows drew together, cigarette paused between the split of his lips. Then he drew in a breath; let the smoke dance and twirl in front of his eyes. The burn at the back of his throat almost felt cathartic.

“Well, aren’t I fucking lucky?” he muttered. “He thought of me. Fucking groundbreaking.”

Cheng looked at him, expression blank. “You were gone a long time, Qiu. I don’t want you to think I wasn’t thinking of you during that time. That I didn’t notice your absence, when I did.”

Qiu only shook his head. “Hard to believe when you’re more worried about talking to old men who don’t give a shit about you and a stain on He Tian’s fucking shirt than you are about seeing me again.”

“I couldn’t find the time,” Cheng told him. “My father told me my first priority was socializing — networking, or however he puts it. And He Tian developed a bad habit for nightmares about our mother again while you were gone. He’s woken me up nearly every night, and he’s skipping meals again. I’ll be the first to admit it’s annoying, but I can’t just fucking— ignore him.”

Little lion men, Qiu thought, the both of you.

But Qiu weighed the words sitting on his tongue carefully. He tapped away the flaking ends of his cigarette as he did, and watched the ash rise to the sky among the dim stars.

Eventually, he gave into the loss of inhibition.

“You’re filling a spot you don’t need to fill,” he said, a little coarse. “He’s a kid; he’s gonna mourn his mom whether you bend over backwards or not. But you’re putting more and more shit on your plate that you don’t need to, and it’s gonna bite you in the ass eventually.”

To Qiu’s surprise, Cheng nodded.

“But when it comes down to it, there’s no other option,” Cheng said. His eyes scanned the horizon, and Qiu wondered what he saw in the trees. “I didn’t have a sibling growing up in this family; I’m not so damn selfish that I would want that for He Tian, too. Especially now, after...”

Behind them, Qiu could hear the distant drone of music and the chatter of people. The liveliness seemed to be separated from them in that moment, like a dome encasing the noise. Here, they were still and quiet, caressed by a soft wind that had freed a strand of hair to lie on the flat of Cheng’s forehead, warmed by the heat between their too-close shoulders and the smoke that one man breathed out and the other breathed in. Equilibrium.

“So…” Qiu started after the silence stretched, “what, then?”

Cheng straightened, smirking. “So, nothing. I do what I can. I’m taking him camping near the river this weekend. Getting us both away from here for a few days.”

He looked at Qiu. Continued: “And when I come back, we can take the Hongqi out for a ride. I know you want to see it. And I’ll let you tinker with it, or whatever the hell you usually do with the bikes and shit.”

Qiu clicked his tongue — even as his chest warmed at the idea of putting his hands on something that nice. “Don’t try to bribe your way out of this.”

Cheng huffed a laugh, breathy and stolen. “Why not? There’s only so many ways to make you happy, and I never knew you were such an attention whore until tonight. I saw you the moment you walked in, but I didn’t realize I had to make it known.”

Qiu spit into the grass. “Fuck you. I’ll remember this when you fuck off somewhere and come back.”

“An eye for an eye. Sounds fair enough to me.”

“‘Course it does to someone like you.”

Cheng smiled — something small and rare and barely noticeable that made Qiu break eye contact. Oblivious, Cheng took a long drag off his smoke, then nodded to himself.

“Then this weekend is a deal,” he confirmed, low. “Spending some time together, now that you’re back.”

Qiu dropped his cigarette, and crushed it beneath his shoe.

“Fine,” he said, feigning vexation. “But only because it’s your damn birthday, and I’m the only one around here who seems to care. I pity you.”

The words were meant to be clipped and prickling, but he felt the weight of Cheng’s eyes trail the length of him with anything but contempt. Eventually, Cheng put out his cigarette too, then slipped his hands in his pockets as he overlooked the hills.

“Well,” he said, smirking. “Aren’t I fucking lucky.”

#19 days #qiucheng #I know this isn't much of a 'party' scene nor a 'jealousy' scene but i hope this suffices!#also I'm so brain dead from midterms so all mistakes in this are mine :(#thank you for the prompt!!#19 days fanfic #19 days fanfiction

159 notes · View notes

johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 40: Some Rest For The Wicked

Everyone needs some rest from time to time, and these two most of all. Smut, fluff, banter galore, and just a little bit of plot :)

Read on AO3! Or read from the beginning

Tristan flopped on the bed with a sigh, kicking off his boots. The mattress was hard and lumpy, and there were hardly any feathers left in the pillows, but at least the sheets were clean, with only a faint smell of must. He stretched his arms and yawned, arching his back.

“Maker, I could sleep like a log.” He cracked one eye open to glance at Dorian, who was sitting on the armchair close to the hearth. “What are you reading there?”

Dorian looked up from his book, the firelight dancing in his eyes. His hair, still damp from his bath, was combed neatly back in glossy black waves, and his shirt looked freshly pressed, despite having been in his travelling bag for days. In the short time Tristan had taken to wash in the small and drafty room that served as the bathhouse of the inn, Dorian had lit up the fire in the hearth, brushed down his cloak and his leather overcoat, rearranged his clothes and his various tins and vials, poured himself a glass of wine, and was now reading one of the many books he had brought with him.

“Treatises on Time Magic, by Agrippina Evander. Excellent theories, very insightful, not very practical when it comes to the application.” He let the book fall closed, taking a sip of his wine. “How was your bath?”

“If you can call an old wine barrel a tub, and forget that bathwater is supposed to be warm instead of uncomfortably lukewarm, then it was fine, I suppose,” Tristan huffed, rolling his eyes. “At least you can heat up the water you’re in; I have to endure the tepidity.”

“Maker, what a terrible tragedy,” Dorian drawled, swirling the wine in his cup. “It really is ghastly. I don’t know how you put up with it. A martyr, I say.” He grinned behind the rim of his goblet when Tristan shot him a rueful glance. “I do hope you didn’t encounter any more unsavoury rebel types along the way.”

“No,” Tristan hummed as he arched in another deep, satisfying stretch. “Most of them have gone to sleep already, I believe. Those that haven’t are probably in Bull’s room as we speak. Apparently, two of them had some very specific questions about his horns.”

“Ugh. Someone will be bragging about this tomorrow, I wager,” Dorian scoffed.

Tristan laughed. “He never misses an opportunity, does he?” He rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “What about you? Got any questions for me?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Dorian gave him an amused, if mildly bored look. “About your horns?”

“No, not my— wait. Is ‘horns’ another word for…” He lifted his brows again, even more suggestively, his lips curling in a smirk. “Because if it is: yes, please.”

Dorian let out a sound that was between a laugh and a groan as he sipped on his wine. “When you put it so eloquently, how could I ever refuse?”

Tristan grinned. “Why don’t you come over here, then?” He patted the mattress beside him.

“Soon. But first: this.” Dorian rolled out a matte leather sheet he had taken to carrying everywhere with him on the table, the black squares on it stark against the natural taupe colour of the leather. Then, he fished out a pouch filled with the smooth, black and red stones that served as pawns and set it next to the makeshift board.

“I’m in no mood for games,” Tristan murmured as he sank deeper into his pillow. He held out his hand, smiling invitingly. “Come to bed.”

“And so I will. After we play at least a few rounds of Calculi.”

Tristan sighed. He didn’t like that game; apparently it had been played in Tevinter for more than a thousand years, and was supposed to be even more challenging than chess. The rules had been relatively easy to understand, but the execution had left him befuddled on more than one occasion. Playing it late at night gave him headaches that had nothing to do with the Anchor, and made him grumpy and irritable, but Dorian insisted they play every night before he went to sleep.

Alongside the Fade-place of dreams that Solas had created, and the draught he was giving him to drink every day, the elf had suggested Tristan try to focus his mind and control his emotions, and through that he would be able to control the Anchor as well. Solas had tried to teach him how to meditate during the first couple days of their trip, but a few sessions was all it had taken for them both to abandon the notion. Tristan had never been able to sit still for more than a few minutes; staying silent and immovable for even an hour seemed to be a physical impossibility.

That was where Dorian had come in, saying he had a method that was even better than meditation, and had been taught in Circles in Tevinter for generations. And that was how Tristan had come to learn how to play Calculi.

“But I’m tired,” Tristan protested. “This game is boring.”

“Because you’re always losing?” Dorian asked sweetly, his smile widening when Tristan frowned at him. “Whether you like it or not is entirely irrelevant. I told you, you simply have to practice.”

He huffed as he got on his feet and dragged himself to the armchair opposite Dorian’s. He plopped down on it, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Which are mine, the red or the black?”

“The black.”

“You always take the red, and you always go first. That is why I always lose.”

“No,” Dorian countered, “you lose because you don’t concentrate, amatus. If you want to win, you need to take this seriously. The mysteries of the game will unfold themselves to you in due course.”

“I am taking it seriously. I always give everything I do my full attention. Speaking of…” He leaned forward still with a sly smirk, his fingers trailing up Dorian’s knee under the table. “There’s something else that demands my attention right now.”

A light slap on the back of his hand stayed its course. “Is there? I’m sure I’d love to hear all about it. After we play a few rounds.” His eyes twinkled with amusement when Tristan sat back in his chair with a pout, then he started setting the pawns on the board. “There. All set. I do expect you to win at least once tonight.”

With a huff, Tristan stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck. “I expect to win more than once, if you must know.”

He waited for Dorian to make his move, then made his own. His black pawns were surely, but steadily, getting devoured by Dorian’s as time passed, so much so that it seemed to Tristan that his own pawns were just flecks of black in a sea of red.

Soon, they were caught in a stalemate. Tristan was cornered and surrounded, clinging to his territory by the skin of his teeth- still, he held on. That, at least, he could say for himself. He took in a deep breath as he straightened, concentrating as hard as he could. A black pawn was lying just at the edge of the circle that Dorian’s red pawns had made around him. That was when an idea finally sprung in his mind.

“What happens if I move it here?” he asked, pointing at the squares behind Dorian’s pawns. It was a risky move, and if that pawn was taken, he would instantly lose. “Will it work?”

Dorian glanced up at him through his thick eyelashes, interest flashing in their silver-gold depths. He idly swirled the wine in his goblet before he took a sip. “You can certainly try.”

Tristan gingerly picked up the black, polished stone and placed it in Dorian’s territory. In one fell swoop, Dorian snatched it away with one of his own, declaring himself the victor.

“Hey! You said I could try it!”

“I did. And you lost.” He chuckled contentedly as he collected the pawns and set them aside, gathering them in neat stacks. “It was a bold move. I’ll give you that.”

Tristan clicked his tongue and sat back in his chair, resting his cheek upon his fist. Dorian flashed him an amused grin.

“Oh, come now, don’t pout. Let’s play another one. I might let you win this time.”

Tristan frowned, staring into the fire. “I’m not playing. I told you, I don’t like this game.”

“My, such a sore loser,” Dorian sighed as he set the pawns on the board regardless. He topped up his glass with some more wine, then crossed one leg over the other as he settled back on his armchair. “You can have the red ones this time, if you’d like.”

Tristan’s only response was a quiet harrumph. He leaned across the table and picked up Dorian’s glass, bringing it up to his lips. “I don’t want you doing me any favours.”

“No? Alright then, the black ones are yours.” The narrowed-eyed glare that Tristan shot him made Dorian laugh even more. When Tristan returned his glass back to its place, Dorian caught his hand. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his smile growing soft and tender. “My dear, I tease you too much, I know.”

“You do,” Tristan said, still pouting, but his annoyance promptly eased away by the warmth of Dorian’s touch. Before he knew it, his fingers had threaded through Dorian’s, his fingertips brushing over his many golden rings. “You like it when I lose.”

“I like it when I win.” Dorian brought Tristan’s hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, his gaze never leaving his. “How about… we make the next game a little more interesting?”

There was a gleam in Dorian’s eyes now, that stirred Tristan’s interest. “In what way?”

“Let’s see…” Dorian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed in thought. The light of the fire painted the side of his face amber, bronzing his honey-gold skin. “Every time one of us loses, he has to take off one item of clothing.”

“Strip- Calculi?” Tristan said, an amused smile curling the edges of his lips. He had once been unbeatable at strip-Wicked Grace, and he was sure he would be able to win the next round once he’d set his mind to it. He had been this close the previous time…

He took another sip of wine from Dorian’s glass, then set it carefully on the table with a smug grin. “The game is on, my friend.” ~

Approximately one hour and seven games of Calculi later, Tristan was wearing nothing but his smallclothes, while Dorian had only lost his boots and his brightly coloured silk scarf. A swath of golden brown skin peeked through the opening of his shirt, glistening in the firelight.

“You said something about winning me out of my clothes, amatus?” Dorian hummed, his amusement only growing when Tristan rolled his eyes. “Never challenge a Tevinter, isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“No. You just made that up.” Tristan crossed his arms before his chest and shot him a disgruntled look. Really, if anyone was even more stubborn and competitive than himself, then that was Dorian. “I’ve changed my mind. I don't just dislike this game- I hate it.”

Dorian laughed under his breath. His silver gaze glided from Tristan's chest down to his neck, swept along his arms. There was already a dark look in his eyes when they moved further down, past his stomach, then rested at his navel. And there, they stayed. And stayed.

Just when Tristan’s cheeks were starting to feel warm, Dorian’s eyes snapped up to his own. “How about one more round?” he purred, voice smooth like silk, soft like fur. “There’s still one last article of clothing for me to win off you.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#dorian pavus #dorian pavus x trevelyan #dorian pavus x inquisitor #pavelyan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dorian pavus/trevelyan #dorian pavus/inquisitor #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

25 notes · View notes

spacetimewraithwrites-archive · 3 years

Text

Excerpt WASTE

↳ "You don't wanna do that."

I glanced over to the loft, atop which stood...actually, the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life. Crouched to peer through the bars of the railing, using a massive electric bow to keep himself balanced, impeccably combed silver-grey hair and dewy olive skin, a pistol strapped to his hip and sparkling honey-hued eyes. Holy shit. Holy shit.

The merc barked up at him. "This isn't any of your business, Lyons."

He smiled and his teeth were perfect, pearly-white, except for a lone gold premolar on the right. "No, but I kinda take offense to mercenaries tryna rough people up in my territory. Let the guy go, an' I might let you walk away with all your fingers. Sound good?"

I popped the hulking jerk on the nose and his head snapped back, and he screamed, like...really loud. I didn't expect it. Grating and high-pitched and I don't think he'd ever been punched in the nose before. I couldn't help feeling for the guy, just a bit.

The man on the loft tilted his head, a little confused.

Hulking Jerk—trademark pending—took a swing at me but I ducked, and Loft Man—trademark pending—nocked an arrow and drew his bow, aiming right for the guy's back.

"I got this," I said lightly, my fist connecting with Hulking Jerk's jaw.

"You sure?" Loft Man asked, eyes not leaving Hulking Jerk. "I'm a team player."

I ducked another fist and full-on tackled Hulking Jerk into a stack of cargo boxes, all of which crashed around us so noisily. We couldn't have been more fucking conspicuous if one of us had hired a marching band to stomp through the warehouse on full blast. Annoying.

"I got it!" I repeated. I peeked my head over some of the boxes to look at Loft Man as I'd pinned Hulking Jerk to the ground with a pistol to the back of the neck. "...Team player, you say?"

"Mercury Lyons," Loft Man said, lowering his bow. He blessed me with a crooked grin. "You're Guetry Sympa, I'm guessin'."

I waggled my eyebrows. "Fan of my work?"

"Your music, actually. Skywaste's a favorite of my sister's."

"Oh," I said like an idiot because I'd actually forgotten that I was one half of a galactically famous band that's sold more than eight billion copies of our biggest track. I pulled a length of cord from my coat pocket and restrained Hulking Jerk. "Hey, Scotty, mind buzzing someone down here to take this piece of shit to the 'Sort?"

"I can do it." Mercury jogged down the stairs in my direction. "This is kinda my jurisdiction anyhow."

Mercury was tall, and exuded so much confidence, and I could feel myself starting to clam up around him as he waved me away from the jackass on the floor.

I'm lying, I was absolutely flirting with him the whole time. He’s got dimples and full lips and salt-and-pepper stubble and I all but won the lottery here. Not flirting when I was getting vibes would’ve been the biggest mistake I could’ve made—and I don’t need to remind anyone about Oren, do I?

"Gotta ask who Scotty is, though," Mercury said, yanking Hulking Jerk to his feet.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Ah...teammate. We've got...radios. It's fine."

Now that was an interesting deflection, Sympa. Which mental illness prompted this sudden shame in the wonder of artificial intelligence keeping you from consistently pissing yourself and forgetting how to spell your own fucking name? Was it the PTSD, or the fear of abandonment? Maybe the Mommy issues? Gross. Scotty didn't deserve that.

A purple haze filled my vision and I tried unsuccessfully to blink it away.

"That mercenary is the man responsible for the trafficking ring in the Western Division," Scotty said in my brain, which masked anything Mercury had been saying to me. "You're responsible for whatever happens to him from now on."

I swallowed. "Actually," I said, interrupting Mercury and gently removing his hands from Hulking Jerk's restraints, "I, uh...I just remembered I gotta take this guy in myself. Sorry. It's for one of my missions. You're...you're actually so attractive it a hundred percent slipped my mind."

Mercury's full-bodied, dark eyebrows jumped toward his hairline. "That so...."

I turned up the collar of my coat and hooked a hand around Hulking Jerk's arm. "Yeah."

And I'd intended on walking away with the merc like an aloof badass but the way Mercury stared at me gave me pause. We met eyes and something happened in my chest that I'd never felt before. A tightness, stretching into my throat and rendering me speechless. I broke into a slow smile.

Mercury's eyes darted from the merc back to me, and for a scorching moment I had the suspicion that something really wicked would've happened had we been alone amongst the ruined cargo. Instead, he nodded and clapped me on the back. "Right, then. I'll leave you to it," he said, his low Southern accent—I'd've said Georgia or thereabouts even before I found it to be Atlanta on the nose—echoing through the warehouse. "Maybe I'll see you around, Sympa."

He held out a hand and I took it, giving it a firm shake. "I'll find you," I said deliberately.

"Nah," he muttered. "I'll find you."

He gave me a wink and disappeared behind the boxes.

#WASTE #edit: WASTE #got a long one for y'all lol #I legitimately couldn't decide where to crop it sdlahfsdf

20 notes · View notes

isis-astarte-diana · 4 years

Text

Mercy

Summary: Five times Missy pushes your limits (and one time she doesn’t).

Word Count: 3879

Warnings: NSFW. MIHOW. Dub!con, just to be safe. Bad BDSM etiquette. Crying during sex. Overstimulation. Forceful fellatio. Painful sex. Anal. Caning. Safeword use. (This sounds like my Christmas list).

NB: Hey, so, uh... I can’t excuse this. I won’t even try. If you want some gratuitous soft!domme Missy with an excessive amount of praise, read on. If you don’t, there is a chance this may not be the blog for you.

“Do you have another one for me?”

Combing her fingers through the sweat-damp hair at your temple, Missy presses a soft kiss to your forehead. She reclines beside you on the bed, fully clothed, curled comfortably against your side. You whine at the question.

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. “It’s hard to tell.”

“I’m sure it is.” Her lips quirk at the corners when she sweeps a few stray hairs from your overheated face. “Shall we find out together?”

Swallowing hard, you twist in your restraints. “If you like, Mistress.” It comes out soft and tentative. She smiles wickedly.

“That’s a good girl. Let’s give it a try, hmm?”

You offer her a small nod, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. When the vibrator buzzes to life once more it drags a whimper from your chest. She sits up to better see what she’s doing. You crane your neck, barely managing to lift your head from the pillow, to watch her bring the toy back between your hopelessly spread legs.

The first touch makes you shriek.

With your vulva so oversensitive already, every fold drenched and every nerve spasming, the relentless vibrations are torturous. You jerk in place, uselessly trying to shift your hips away from the excruciating stimulation. Your thighs tremble and try to close but with your ankles firmly bound to the bedposts it’s impossible. She follows your movements, offering you no reprieve.

“I can’t,” you gasp, tears starting to sit sharp in the back of your throat. “I’m done, I’m done-”

“No you’re not, poppet,” she chides gently, her other hand coming to rest on the damp skin of your inner thigh. The pressure is grounding. “You still have more to give me. I know that you do.”

A harsh tremor rocks your spine. Through gritted teeth you beg, “I don’t, Missy, I swear I don’t!”

“Of course you do,” she soothes, swiping her thumb across your skin in firm, steady strokes. It’s a confusing juxtaposition to the frenetic vibrations that ignite your clitoris in twitching discomfort. She speaks low reassurances over your harsh panting and desperate whines. “It might sting a little bit, but you can give me another one. Do it for your Mistress.”

+++++

“Does it hurt yet?”

The implicit threat of pain to come makes your breath catch. “No,” you admit tentatively. “Not really. It just feels...” Averting your gaze from hers for a moment, you whisper, “tight.”

“Tight is good.” Missy grins, all teeth, and leans down to press a kiss to your jaw. With her straddling your waist like this, stripped down to the chemise she’s hitched up around her hips, you can feel her, hot and slick, on the bare skin of your stomach. It’s startlingly erotic. “We can do better, though.”

She watches you intently as her skilful fingers begin to manipulate the clamp on your left nipple. You can’t look; watching the pink skin pinched tighter with every turn of the screw is unbearable. When the pressure finally turns to biting pain you make a choked noise low in your throat and she chuckles.

“Better?” Her fingertips trail along your breastbone, ostensibly for comfort; really, you suspect that she’s measuring your breathing and your heartbeat.

“It hurts now,” you squeak, and her smile widens.

“Good.”

She sets to work on the other side even as you squirm beneath her. While she tightens the clamp, you can’t help noticing the slight rocking of her hips, the way she grinds against you to stimulate herself. The captivating spectacle robs so much of your attention that you cry out at the sudden shock of the metal clip drawing painfully tight on your right nipple. Her head falls back with an ecstatic chuckle.

“Oh, poppet. You’re so much fun to play with.”

You prickle with delight at her words, even as the throbbing pain from the clamps sinks in and makes your eyes burn with tears. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Without warning Missy slaps her open palm against the side of your left breast. The impact stings but, more presently, it tugs at the clamp and sends shooting pain through your nipple and straight to the core of you, intense enough that adrenaline races hot and cold down your spine. Yelping, you tug at your restraints. They’re unforgiving.

“You didn’t like that much, did you?” She quirks an eyebrow and does it again, this time on your right breast. It seems more painful here, but your stunned cry is still pitifully lewd. The first few tears roll heavily down your face and you shake your head, breathing hard. She tuts in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’ll like this next part even less.”

When she dismounts and turns around, showing you her back, the streak of her arousal on your stomach turns cold in the air. She retrieves the third and final clamp from the bed beside you and holds it up for you to see, throwing you a saucy wink over her shoulder.

“You might just feel a little pinch, dearest.” Two fingers stroke through your folds, sliding easily with your overwhelming slickness and coming to rest either side of your clitoris. The touch makes you gasp. “Can you guess where this one goes?”

+++++

“Just take your time.”

Missy drags her fingernails against your scalp, drawing swirling patterns there. The palm of her hand applies the faintest pressure to the back of your head. She’s not pushing, nor really holding you in place; just reminding you what you’re here for.

It would be hard to forget with the tip of the strap-on nudging the back of your tongue.

“You’re doing very well so far.” With her other hand, she brushes a few tears away from your cheek. “Just relax. I know you want to hold your breath but it’s easier if you don’t.”

You concentrate on keeping your throat open, suppressing the urge to gag with every ounce of strength you have. As you tilt your head and take her deeper into your mouth, steadily approaching the point of no return, she increases the force behind her palm just enough to prevent your retreat. Every bit of depth gained is under your control; Missy, for her part, makes sure that you do not lose it.

“Breathe,” she reminds you, tapping the underside of your jaw with one finger. Your brows tighten with the effort of splitting your focus between staying pliant and maintaining slow breaths through your nose. “That’s it. Good girl.”

For as long as you can keep the two tasks in balance - the breathing, the conscious battle with your gag reflex - it’s easy. There’s some discomfort, the muscles in your throat reluctantly accepting this unnatural invasion, but the fullness is hypnotic and the sound of her pleased voice above you is more than enough to sweeten it.

It’s immediately obvious when your attention slips.

Your throat convulses, a vulgar retching sound robbing your breath. The unyielding thickness of the toy pushing into your throat obstructs your attempt to steady your breathing and, in a familiar rush of panic, you brace your palms against her thighs and try fruitlessly to push yourself back.

“None of that,” she chastises, tugging lightly at your hair. It doesn’t hurt, but it serves to ground you, prompting you to claw back some control over your muscles. “Don’t panic. You’re alright. You just need to concentrate.” Her free hand entwines with one of yours, squeezing gently. She presses you a little bit further down on her length, heedless of your choked sobs. “You can do it, poppet.”

+++++

“Open wide.”

Cold, blunt metal pushes at your lips and you part them on her command. The toy that Missy presses into your mouth is heavy. It rests against your tongue, not wide enough to fill your mouth, not long enough to make you gag, but sufficient to keep you muffled and complacent. The tapered shape of it ends with a narrow stem around which you close your lips.

“Good girl. You just hold onto that for me.” She trails her fingertips up to your hairline, skimming the soft blindfold as she does so, and combs her hand through your hair. “I’ll need it back in a minute.”

You nod as best you can and hum around the object. Resting your cheek against the duvet, you shift a little bit over her lap, settling into your position. It’s awkward with your wrists bound in the small of your back but she’s attentive to your comfort. She smooths her palm along the base of your spine.

“I’m sure you must be very sore by now,” she coos, sounding entirely unapologetic for her part in it. “You’ve gone the most delightful shade of pink.” She punctuates the words with a sharp pinch to the undercurve of your arse, abusing the stinging, heated flesh there. You whine around the makeshift gag and she chuckles. “You’ll be glad to know that we’ve finished with the hairbrush. For now, at least.”

Somehow, the words offer you little reassurance.

From behind you comes the click of a bottle cap opening. You make an indignant noise when she spreads you apart with thumb and finger. It turns into a squeak at the first touch of her slippery, cold fingertip against the tight muscle there.

“Cold, isn’t it?” Her voice is teasing, but she rubs your back again. “Trust me, you’ll be grateful for this very soon. Keep still.”

It doesn’t hurt, but the strange, unwelcome sensation of her finger pressing steadily inside of you, overcoming your meagre resistance, has you dropping the toy from your mouth with a wavering moan. Missy tuts.

“What did I just tell you?” Her hand moves from your back and swats the left side of your arse with enough force that your hips jerk. The movement makes your muscles clench around her probing finger, drawing your attention squarely back to this new invasion. You gasp and squirm, tugging uselessly at your restraints as if you could push her away. Ignoring your plight, she slides deeper, filling you to the brim. “You’re not fooling me, poppet. I can see how much you’re enjoying this.”

“I am not-” you protest, but she brushes her idle hand between your parted thighs, emphasising the arousal that floods your cunt. As she does this, she wiggles her finger inside of you. Burying your face in the duvet, you try and fail to muffle a soft cry. She laughs and wipes the evidence of your enjoyment on the back of your thigh where it dries sticky and cool.

“Now,” she taps your cheek with one finger as she picks up the tapered metal toy that you’ve dropped on the bed. Your breath hitches at the realisation of what she plans to do with it. “I would strongly advise you to relax, or this could get very uncomfortable for you, very quickly.”

+++++

“Take a nice, deep breath for me.”

Nodding shakily, you do as she says, bracing your hands on her shoulders. Missy makes a soft noise of approval. The curve of her smile is tender, but mischief sparkles in her eyes.

“That’s it. Good girl.” Her voice makes you shiver. The muscles in your thighs are tight and trembling from the strain that this position puts on them; standing astride her as she sits in her chair, half-crouching on your tiptoes, poised to sink down into her lap. You wince with anticipation when she lines up the strap-on. It’s thick enough to drag your labia inwards, a pinching pressure that threatens to steal your hard-won breath. “Now let it out, slowly, and relax.”

“I’ll try,” you whisper, and she chuckles. Two fingers slide under your chin and tilt your face towards her. She presses a single swift kiss to your mouth.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs against your lips, and it’s as much a threat as a reassurance. Her palms on your hips keep you steady. “Go as slow as you like.”

Your eyes flutter closed as you exhale, and you cling tighter to her shoulders, easing yourself down onto the toy.

It breaches you with a blazing stretch.

“There you go,” Missy soothes over your startled cry, sensing the tension returning to your body. “You see? I told you you could do it.”

“Missy,” your voice cracks and she shushes you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “It hurts-”

“I know,” she croons, stroking a hand down the length of your spine. “I know it does, poppet. Keep going.”

Holding this position for long will be impossible; you know that. You can already feel your legs wobbling and threatening to cramp with the awkward angle at which your knees are bent. Straightening up and clambering off of her would mean shrugging off the strong arms that pull you into her chest. As if she notices the temptation, the heel of her hand lands at your tailbone and pushes.

It knocks you off balance just enough that you sink further down, impaling yourself another inch on the incredible width of the toy. Your nails clench into her shoulders, so tightly that it must hurt, but she just leans in and nuzzles at your neck.

“Keep going,” she whispers again, even as she guides you further down with inescapable hands. “You’re alright. You can do it.”

“I can’t,” you protest brokenly. The slow drag of it pushing deeper inside of you makes the walls of your cunt burn, even with the ample slickness of your own arousal and the cool lubricant smeared over the toy. “I can’t, it’s too big-”

Her arms tighten around you and she makes that soft clucking noise of sympathy that always softens you. “It’s not, dearest.” She kisses the curve of your neck. “It’s just a bit more than you’re used to, but you’ll get there.”

+++++

“Number?”

In the brief reprieve between strokes of the cane, your harsh breaths are deafening.

Missy's hand rests in the small of your back and she presses her thumb into the sweat-tacky skin there, rubbing tight circles. It does little to soothe the blazing streaks of pain that criss-cross the flesh of your arse and thighs. Your legs tremble beneath you and you fight to control your voice, muffling a plaintive cry with your clasped hands.

“Nineteen,” you manage, high-pitched and keening. “I think.”

“That’s right! Good girl.” There’s still an edge to her voice, but the praise is genuine. She presses more firmly, rough swipes of her palm across your back easing the sobs from your chest, helping you to steady your breathing. “You’re being very brave for me.”

You don’t feel brave. Spread out across her desk, crying into your hands and bouncing on the balls of your feet in a futile attempt to take your mind off the stinging welts that consume your senses, you feel decidedly pathetic. With arousal slicking the insides of your thighs and sweat cooling in the dimple at the base of your spine the sensations are overwhelming.

“Don’t lose count,” she reminds you, bringing the cane back up to tap against the fullest swell of your arse. Even the lightest touch makes you flinch. “Deep breath.”

Nodding as best you can, you draw a harsh breath. It wavers and tugs at your throat. As you exhale unsteadily, the cane cracks down again.

You jerk in place, back arching, rising up onto your toes and howling like a wounded beast. Your hips rock and shift as the pain blooms, the bite turning into a burn that sinks down into the flesh beneath. Missy coos with pride, rubbing your back again.

“Very good,” she praises. The cane taps the back of your right thigh, which shakes violently. “Keep that leg still.”

“Sorry,” you squeak, forcing your heel back to the floor to stop the tremor. Her remark leaves you feeling thoroughly chastised and you sniffle pitifully. “Can’t help it.”

“I suggest that you try.” She picks out another mark with a rough twisting motion of the cane on the undercurve where your thighs meet your arse. Against the injured skin there it feels like sandpaper. With a broken whine, you press your forehead back to your clasped hands. “Another big breath for me, dearest. You’re alright.”

You’re alright, you repeat to yourself, as if you could make yourself believe it. Your bare feet shift on the cold floor.

Another stroke drags a strangled wail from your throat. This low down the impact makes your knees buckle. You catch yourself quickly, gripping the edge of the desk with white knuckles, hiding your face against the polished wood. Tears puddle on the surface under your nose.

“Number?” Missy asks again, light fingers sweeping along your spine. Panting hard, you shake your head. Speech escapes you. Her palm follows the curve of your back as she moves closer. Her fingers wind into your hair, firm but without cruelty, and ease your head to the side until you’re forced to look at her.

Above you, her brow is raised in challenge. “What number was that, poppet?”

It takes a few more choked breaths before you regain enough control to speak and, when you do, your body chooses the word for you. You know, vaguely, that the answer is twenty-one, but what comes out is a weak plea. “Mercy.”

The effect is immediate.

Her lips part, all trace of severity draining from her expression and leaving tenderness and an odd sort of horror in its wake. The cane drops to the ground and she follows, kneeling in front of you, her soft eyes level with yours.

“Good girl,” she whispers, her fingers turning gentle and combing through your sweaty hair. “Well done, my dear. That was very brave.”

The weight of her words floods you with crushing guilt, setting your lip trembling, bringing a lump to your throat. “I’m sorry!” You try to pull back, resisting her tenderness, but she doesn’t let you. “I’m sorry, Missy, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, my lovely girl,” she presses her forehead to yours, cupping your cheek with her other hand, stroking the heavy tears from beneath your eye. “You did so well. You were so good for me.”

“I thought- I wanted-” and the pain catches up with you, the adrenaline failing at last. Wracked with near-hysterical sobs you start to shiver. “I thought I could do it but-”

“But nothing, my darling.” Her fingers rest against your temples. She doesn’t push the psychic link but you can feel her there, warm and calming, balm to your racing mind. “You did more than enough. You were magnificent. You are magnificent.”

“I’m alright,” you stammer unconvincingly. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine, you don’t- you don’t have to-”

“You will be fine,” she agrees, sweeping the damp hair back from your face. “But we need to get you more comfortable, first, alright?” You whimper an affirmative. “Can you stand up for me, do you think?” Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth, you nod again. “Good girl. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Missy straightens up, and with firm hands on your shoulder and your waist she helps you to rise to your feet. Despite yourself, you lean heavily into her side. The shifting of your weight reignites some of the welts when you stand up straight and you twist your fingers into the fabric of her blouse, wincing through the sting.

“That’s it.” She rubs your back firmly, leading you the short distance to the sofa. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, ashamed of your unsteadiness. “I’m sorry for freaking out, being so dramatic-”

“I hit you with a stick, poppet, you’re hardly being dramatic.”

Her words have the desired effect; you laugh, and it’s genuine, if watery and breathless. With obvious relief she tugs you closer and nuzzles into your hair, scattering soft kisses there.

“Come on.” Her breath fans warm across your ear. “Let’s get you some water, and then you can lie down for a minute.”

“I’m fine,” you protest weakly, but she tuts.

“It’s not a suggestion, love. You need it.”

Ever prepared, Missy keeps everything she might need for you within reach. There’s a bottle of water on the reading table beside the sofa and it’s this that she opens and brings to your lips, still combing her fingers through your hair while you drink gratefully. She holds it steady all the while.

“Alright, dearest, that’s enough for now.” Setting the bottle down, she kisses your tear-stained cheek. “Lie down for me. Let me have a look.”

“I’m alright,” you croak once more. “It’s not that bad, I just-”

“Enough of that,” she chastises gently. “You don’t have to be alright, you know. You really don’t. It was a lot today.”

“But it was my idea.” You wince at how petulant it sounds. “I feel so stupid, I asked for this and then-”

“Enough.” She nudges your chin with her fingers until you’re looking at her. “Dearest, I won’t have you talking like this. You’ve nothing in the world to be ashamed of.” Her thumb traces your wobbling bottom lip. “Lie down, and let me see. I’ll be the judge of what’s alright and what’s not.”

When you tentatively nod your acquiescence she guides you down onto the sofa, spreading you face down across her lap with your head pillowed on your folded arms. She leans down to kiss your shoulder blade.

“This is going to sting, my love,” she warns softly. “It’ll help in the end.” You hum your consent and bury your face in your crossed forearms.

The balm she keeps in a ridiculous, decorative glass jar on the reading table is cool against your skin. The blazing welts burn with the first touch and you squeak, shifting your hips, when she starts to rub it in.

“Good girl,” she soothes, working her fingers tirelessly across the injured skin. “No real damage, but I should think you’ll be very sore for a while.”

“Serves me right,” you mutter bitterly. “I should have known this was too much.”

“Why should you?” You hiss and twist under her hand when she touches a particularly painful spot. “You don’t know until you try, dearest.”

“Can we try again?” The question comes out tremulous. “If you want to. One day. I just- I think I can do it. I want to impress you.”

“You impress me every day.” Another feather-light kiss, to the nape of your neck this time. “We can have another go. When you’re feeling better. For now, though, I’m afraid you’ll have to be spoilt rotten for at least a week.”

“You don’t have to do that, Missy.” You twist awkwardly to look at her over your shoulder. “Really, you don’t.”

“I want to.” Resting the weight of her palm against the back of your thigh, she trails her fingertips across your cheek. “For all that you give me, poppet, I think you deserve to be looked after.”

Feeling tears tug at your throat again, you take her hand and bring it to your mouth. “Thank you.” You whisper it across her knuckles. “For looking after me.”

Missy smiles. Her thumb runs along the stinging welt at the top of your right thigh. “My pleasure.”

#mine #nsfwork #missy x reader #the master x reader #gomez!master x reader #hi this is a compendium of some of my kinks and im just putting it out into the world #pls be soft with me #soft!domme missy is my biggest weakness #at least i think so but im so weak for every version of missy #no thoughts head empty

92 notes · View notes

belovedbangtan · 4 years

Text

Dive | Part 4 | jjk

Pairings: Jungkook x y/n, Yoongi x oc

Word Count: 2.5k

Description: Camping with your ex, sounds horrible right? The camping trip was planned and payed for long before y/n’s shitty boyfriend broke up with her. Her best friend Abby, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are there to make sure she has an amazing time. However, sharing a tent with a smoke show like Jungkook is bound to lead to some complications.

Warnings:Language, oral sex, dom!Jk if you squint, mouth fucking... whoops.

✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️

If the sound of the heavy rain hitting the top of your tent wasn’t enough to wake you, the defining sound of lighting cracking a tree in the distance was. You gasped sitting up quickly, almost forgetting where you were. His warm palm runs up your arm, making your remember. You turn your head back to look at him, his eyes were heavy like he had just woken up. He softly wrapped his fingers around your upper arm, pulling you back into him. A sigh falling from your lips as you snuggled back into your safe space. His right arms wraps around you so that his fingers can run through your hair, while his left comes across his stomach searching for your fingers to lace his through. You quickly find them, looking up at him through your long lashes.

His soft eyes finally meet yours, “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” the words fell from your lips in a daze. Soft and unsure, but maybe talking about it would make it seem less foreign.

The corners of his mouth turn up while his eyes sparkled, “I can relate,’ he drew in a long breathe, “I cant really explain it either.”

You nod while readjusting yourself, sitting up and crossing your legs. He copies you, sitting up tall playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

“I just got out of a relationship a week ago,” You rake your fingers through your hair taking in a long breath.

He cocks his head to the side taking his bottom lip in between his teeth, “Did you love Ben?” his voice is small, you can it’s not something he wants to talk about but you both know that its needed.

“I don’t know, I think so.” you rub your hands over your thighs, being forced to think about how you actually felt about one of the longest relationships you’d ever been in.

“You think?” He reaches out to take your hand in his. The instant tranquility that washes over just by being touched by him is something you can’t ignore.

“While I was in it, it felt like love to me... but,” You sigh searching his eyes hoping to find the words,“how do you know what love feels like?”

He tries to suppress a grin as he looks down quickly, he looks back up at you with adoration lacing all of his features, “I think it feels like this…”

Your chest tightens as you process what that means, you wish you weren’t so scared of everything that his words represented. You agree though, wholeheartedly. If you were ever to describe the feelings of falling in love, you would describe this moment.

“Why were you with him for so long if you weren’t sure you loved him?” His voice is soothing, almost as if you were fragile and if he spoke too loud you would break, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

You blink as his thumb brushes the back of your hand softly, “I think, maybe, I just liked having someone to call my own,” You start to explain. Telling him that you did have feelings for him, but you knew deep down that they weren’t feelings of love. You never thought about getting married, or having children, or a future at all with Ben. While you felt that way, a part of you felt secure knowing that you wouldn't be alone.

“Maybe I’m an idiot for staying as long as I did,” You look up at him and he shakes his head.

“I could say the same about all the relationships I’ve ever been in…” He starts to explain, “I think it’s normal, I think it’s what you’re supposed to do until you eventually find someone that makes you think like that. Someone that consumes your every thought, almost makes you feel like you were missing a part of you until you met them.” His hands are warm when they slide up your forearms, he tugs when he gets to your elbow. You follow his pull so that you’re straddling him.

“As scared as you might be, I promise you I’m feeling the same way,” He takes your face in between his hands letting his thumbs brush the area just below your eyes, “But it would be even scarier to stop whatever this could be.” His finger points from him to you repeatedly.

“Jungkook, we’ve literally only known each other for 3 days,” You close your eyes feeling psycho finally saying it out loud.

“Look, I’m not asking to get married or anything. I just think you should know how incredibly whipped I am for you already,” He chuckles as his lips lightly press onto the tip of your nose.

Your eyes lift to meet his galaxy filled ones, they made you feel so warm. The kind of feeling you get when you finally get to slide into your bed after a long day. They felt like home. Of course, those feelings are always accompanied by some form of fear, but he was right. You would regret it forever if you ignored the way you felt for him.

“Whipped, yeah?” you lean away from him, letting your pointer and middle finger dance along his collarbone, “Tell me a little more about that,” your eyes widen sarcastically, he instantly scoffs loudly burying his head in your neck. His laughs are muffled, and his voice is soft, “Oh shush.”

He pulls back his face is serious now, “Are you feeling better?”

You nod in response hoping that he believes you. Your head still hurts and your throat is as dry as the Sahara. He reaches besides you to grab his phone, picking it up and seeing the LED screen lights up with the time, 2:42am. He lays back, keeping you on his chest. His fingers combing through your hair carefully.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” you whisper

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m nervous to get back to reality.”

He sighs, “No I’m ready for it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, there’s so much I want to do with you.”

He feels you smile into his chest, butterflies in your stomach start to feel like full blown birds. The fact that his brain instantly started to place you into his life was heartwarming to say the least. Yours was doing the same though. You couldn’t stop thinking about what your friends and family would think of this amazing man. The image of all of the dates you would go on, and all the sex you would have was obviously at the forefront. You instantly feel your core start to heat up at the thought of how he would fuck you. You knew he was the giving type, which could only mean that he was also that way in bed. Picturing the way his body would look above yours, as he fucks you into the mattress. You shake the thoughts, recalling that if you wouldn't have gotten sick you might have seen him naked running into the river.

“Did they all skinny dip tonight?” you tilt your head upward so that you can see his face.

“Mhm.”

“You didn't go?”

His brows scrunch together and he looks at you like a crazy person, “You were literally white in the face, love.” He brings his hand up to your cheek, “besides... the only person I have the desire to skinny dip with is you.”

You look away, with your cheeks burning red, “Well then I’ll have to make it up to you.”

“I’ll never say no to that,” He rasps, while his fingertips dip underneath your shirt. His knuckles brushing back and forth on your hip, the simple touch alone sets your body on fire. Your breathing starts to quicken, and you need to touch him. You turn your head away from his chest to reach his neck. Your lips linger under his ear for a moment, before you drag them down to his collar bone.

His breath hitches, “Mm, your lips feel so good.”

He has no idea how good your lips feel, but you want to show him. You scoot yourself down his body, lifting his shirt so you can pay attention to the abs that he works so hard on. His cock is straining in his boxers and your cheeks redden knowing you did that to him. As your tongue traces the indentations on his stomach, your hand floats down to let him know you’re aware of his situation.

“I feel like you haven’t quite seen their potential,” you look up at him through your lashes, “Can I show you?”

His brows nit together, “Please,” he begs, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

You smile devilishly at him before sliding his boxers down his legs. You reposition yourself to sit in front of him, between his legs. You take him in your hand pumping him slowly, as filthy thoughts flood your mind. How badly you want to sink down onto him and feel him deep inside you. Without thinking you bend forward teasing the head of his cock with your tongue. He hisses at you throwing his head back, apparently you weren’t the only one with dirty thoughts running through your mind. You wet your lips before kitten licking him again, this time his eyes are on you. His tongue jabs against the inside of his cheek. The change in his demeanor makes you feel like you might melt.

You instantly take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around before pulling him out with a popping sound. You kitten lick him one more time before looking up at him again.

“Baby, please stop teasing me.” His voice is weak, you can see how turned on he is.

Without answering you wrap your mouth around his cock. Bobbing up and down, you take his cock deeper each time. Feeling him tap against the back of your throat, you start to moan. The vibrations from your throat earn a guttural moan from him.

You pull yourself off of him, letting your hand mimic what your mouth was doing. Your finger comes up to your lips, with a quiet ‘shh’.

He grins at you before he reaches down, tangling his long fingers in your hair. You take him off guard when you lean up to spit on his cock. His brows raise when your mouth follows the string of spit back, taking him in slowly. You start to bob your head again but slower this time. His fingers tighten at the back of your head, and he starts to push down. Slow at first, making sure it was something you were into. You start to moan, and he takes that as an invitation to keep going. He pushes you down onto his cock, making you gag for seconds before pulling you off of him.

“FUCK, Princess. That feels too good.” He sits up quickly pulling your mouth to his, your tongues dance for dominance. You whine into his mouth, needing more from him.

“Want you to fuck my mouth,“ you beg into his mouth, your hand still working mercilessly.

He grins as he continues to peck your lips and cheeks, he loves seeing you so fucked out. He instantly starts to think about how sexy you’ll be when you’re begging for his cock inside you.

“Such a good girl, you want me to cum down your throat?” His tone is taunting, you nod your head aggressively, “Please.” You beg, and you know this is unlike you but your body is screaming for you to please him.

You lower your head again, with his head pushing gently. You control yourself at first, until he puts his hands on each side of your face, slowly lifting his hips to meet your mouth. He picks up his speed, and you feel tears start to prick in the corners of your eyes. You wont stop him though, you need to feel him finish in your mouth.

His thumb lifts to wipe your tears away, “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby girl,” You look up at him and he rams his cock into your throat, making the tears fall harder. He keeps fucking your throat and you can tell he’s getting close with how his thrust are staggered.

“G-gonna cum- Fuck!” He grunts before pushing your head down all the way. You nose meeting his pelvis bone, and you feel his warmth coating your throat. He throws his head back, loosening his fingers from your hair. You pull off of him, licking him clean. He shivers at the touch of your tongue on his sensitive cock. You sit up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hands. You realize he’s watching with squinted eyes. You move to the side letting him put his boxers back on, once he does he pulls you into his arms.

“That was amazing,” His lips press against your temple. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, feeling slightly embarrassed for showing him this side of you so early.

“Are you shy now? Hmm?” He starts to giggle, tickling your side. You laugh hard trying to push him away from you, he stops finally, pulling your breathless figure closer to him. His hands find your face again, “Don’t be embarrassed, you turn me on more than anyone ever has. That was so unbelievably sexy… you are so unbelievably sexy.”

You press your lips into a fine line, is now the time to tell him that he makes you giddy like a teenage school girl? Should he know that even when he isn’t trying, he makes you melt like a popsicle on a hot summer day? Then when he does try your brain basically start to malfunction from lack of oxygen because he literally leaves you breathless.

“I haven’t done anything like that before,” you say quietly, praying that your lack of experience isn’t a turn off, “I’ve done it, just not like that.” You look away, tracing his tattoos with your pointer finger.

“Well, did you like it?” He asked with concern lacing his voice.

Your cheeks heat up and all you can do is nod. He laughs quietly with relief.

“Such a good girl for me,” He rasps while kissing your head again, “Get some sleep, okay?”

Your lids are heavy and your breathing starts to match up with him. As comfortable as you were with Jungkook, you were still shocked that you allowed yourself to take things to that level so soon. When you started dating Ben you made him wait months, just because you weren’t quite sure of things. You have only known Jungkook for three days technically. You could lie to yourself and say that he was just a rebound. Tell yourself that the way you felt about him was normal. It wasn’t normal and there was no hiding it. It was a terrifying thought, and something that you really didn’t want to process. As much as you loved being wrapped in his arms, and the feeling of comfort that accompanied it; your gut warned you that things might be too good to be true.

✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️✨✨⭐️

Taglist:

@cainami @carolsummerlove @zeharilisharaban @jikooksgirl19 @fallen-for-luke @madygswich @sugalarity @itboykook @ggukkieeee @peachy-bhun @megs58298

A/N: PLEASEEE dont forget to tell me your thoughts! It makes me want to write more! Also Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! <3

#bts #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff

225 notes · View notes