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ilylovelyz · 10 months

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⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

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vivwritesfics · 6 days

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High On Believing

Chapter One - The Anniversary

Meet Daniel Ricciardo and his wife. Two single parents meeting because of their kids. This is their story after marriage, of raising their kids, of their loving family.

(Note: yes, this is the second series of HOAF. But I'm trying to write this in a way that you don't have to read the first series to read this one)

2.5K

"Happy anniversary, Mrs Ricciardo."

"Happy anniversary, Mr Ricciardo." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her across the bed, pulling her closer. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips that soon turned not so tender.

After almost five years together, three of those years being married, she was used to it. But she wasn't tired of it. She'd never be tired of it. She leaned into it, body slotting beneath his.

Daniel pressed his chest against her own, hands cradling her head. The way he kissed her was so damn loving. She moved her fingers through his curls, pulling a damn sweet moan from his lips.

Morning sex, it had become a tradition on their anniversary. Of course, it wasn't only on their anniversary that they enjoyed a slow, sensual morning fuck as the sun crested over the trees surrounding their home.

But, they had children. Three of them, in fact.

Olivia, Daniel's daughter and her stepdaughter, came barging into the room. "Happy anniversary!" She shouted at the top of her lungs as her parents rolled away from each other, holding the blanket protectively to their bodies.

"Badger," Daniel began, tone suggesting that he was scolding her. "What're you... can we have five minutes of peace before we get up?"

But Olivia wasn't alone. Soon Milo, her son and Daniel's stepson, was running into the room behind her, with two and a half year old Beau Ricciardo on his hip.

Beau was the son they biologically shared. He was her spitting image, with Daniel's eyes and nose. When Daniel saw Beau's nose, he almost cried. But he realised just how gorgeous their little boy was, with his nose and his eyes. Their little family of five (well six, including the cat) was complete.

She tapped her phone in quick succession, checking the time. "Kids, why are you up so early?" She asked as Milo placed Beau on the floor.

Beau toddled towards his dad and made grabby hands towards him. Keeping himself covered up, Daniel picked Beau up and kissed his chubby little cheeks.

"I need to get to the track," Olivia answered.

"Crap," Daniel hissed. In his excitement for their three year anniversary, he'd completely forgotten that Olivia had a race that day. "Right, kids, take Beau and get yourselves some breakfast while your mum and I get dressed, okay?"

Even after all these years, Daniel referring to her as Olivia's mum as well as Milo's warmed her heart. Immediately, Olivia had taken to it. She didn't call her mum, just as Milo didn't call Daniel dad, but she didn't protest when Daniel referred to her as 'Olivia's mum'.

Olivia nodded. She grabbed her baby brother from the bed and carried him out of the room, leading Milo. As soon as they were outside and the door was shut, Daniel was back on top of her, giving her one final kiss.

"As soon as we're done at the track, I'm gonna put another baby in you," he whispered against her lips.

She gently pushed at his chest, pushing him up and out of the bed. "You concentrate on our girl, okay? You can concentrate on putting a baby in me later."

"That a promise, Mrs Ricciardo?" Daniel asked as he pulled a shirt over his head.

She grinned as she began getting herself dressed. "Of course, Mr Ricciardo."

Mrs Ricciardo. It had been three years and she still wasn't over it. It still had that bubbly feeling beginning in her chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, unable to stop herself from kissing him one last time.

Daniel dipped her. He had his arms around her midsection and dipped her. It was what he wanted to do at their wedding, but she was pregnant with their Beau and he couldn't. So Daniel was making up for it, dipping her, hooking her leg around his hips.

"DAD!"

They broke away from each other. Daniel hurried downstairs as she continued getting ready for the day.

Their days were set to be wildly different. It may have been their anniversary, the day they wanted to spend together, but their kids came first. Olivia had to be at the track, and Milo needed some new art supplies.

Daniel drank his coffee and held up Beau's orange juice, trying to get him to take it on his down. Beau took it, but immediately pushed it onto the floor. The lid of his cup opened easily (a testament of how many times it had been dropped before) and Daniel set about clearing it up as Olivia finished her breakfast.

"Dad, we gotta go," she said as she collected her stuff.

"Give me a minute, Badger," he replied as he used the paper towel to wipe up the juice from the floor. He placed the cup on the counter, threw away the soiled paper towels, and grabbed his keys. He threw them to Olivia. "Get in, I'll be there soon," he said and headed towards the stairs.

Daniel had just meant to shout up, to say goodbye to his wife and let her know that Beau hadn't had his juice (he threw it around, sure, but god help you if you cross Beau who hasn't had his morning juice). But there she stood, at the stop of the stairs, looking gorgeous. "Holy fuck," he hissed as she descended the stairs.

"Danny." She rolled her eyes, but he offered her his hand. Ever the romantic, he held her as he walked down the bottom two steps and pulled her into his chest.

Damn, he loved this woman. His hands squeezed her hips as he kissed her again. She ran her hands through his hair, trying to tame his curls. But there was no use, and that was just how she loved him.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. "Beau hasn't had his juice yet," he said as he gently rocked her from side to side.

"I can't believe you're leaving me with the monster."

The gasp Daniel let out was so dramatic, and he couldn't hide his smile. "I can't believe you just called our son a monster," he said and kissed her forehead. "He's just spirited, and that's gonna make him a future world champion, after Olivia, of course."

He leaned in, capturing his wife's lips one last time. Well, he would have kept going. Except...

"DAD! WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

He pulled away for real this time. "Bye, boys," he said to his sons as he walked past, placing a kiss on both of their foreheads. As they all wished Olivia good luck, she and Daniel were running out of the door.

Y/N Ricciardo let out a content sigh as she walked into the kitchen. Her life really was perfect.

"What're we doing today, Milo?" She asked as she got another cup of juice for Beau. This time holding it so he couldn't throw it everywhere.

Milo finished his breakfast. "I just need art stuff, momma," he said as he began to clear away his cereal bowl. He placed it in the dishwasher and walked out of the kitchen.

His mother turned to Beau, a frown on her face. "Should we take Milo to get some ice cream?" She asked as she brushed his curls back from his forehead.

"Ice cream! Beau cheered as she took his empty bottle away.

Picking Beau up from his chair, she carried him upstairs. "Heading out soon, Miley!" She called as she gently knocked on the door. He called something back and she took Beau into his bedroom.

Beau seemed to take joy in her parent's suffering. As his mother tried to get his little legs into a cute little pair of shorts, he was kicking his feet. Some days it was a two parent job, one of them holding him still while the other slipped his shorts over his legs.

(There had been times, where Daniel was out of Australia, racing on the other side of the world, that she cried. It was stupid, but Beau wasn't letting her get him dressed and it had all gotten to be too much.)

"Not today, little man," she said and rushed to get him dressed, moving so fast that he couldn't kick off his clothes.

One she was dressed, she grabbed his bag, swung it over her shoulder, and placed Beau on her hip. She held him as she marched out of the room and walked down the hall to knock on Milo's door.

After a moment she pushed it open. There Milo was, looking through his desk, making a list of what he needed. The list was so long, things he and his mother never would have been able to afford before Daniel came into their lives.

Grabbing a backpack, Milo followed his mother out of the house. She shut the door behind them and took the boys over to the car. Her car, the car she'd had since before she'd met Daniel. He would have bought her a new car, she knew that, but she'd grown attached to the shitty little car that had gotten her and Milo around for so long.

Milo climbed into the front as she buckled Beau into the back of the car. "Momma," Milo began as she started the ignition and pulled out of the driveway. "Can we go and watch Olivia at the track next time?"

Before she pulled out of the driveway, she grinned at her son. "Of course we can, Miley. You wanna have a go?"

At that, he shook his head. He didn't want to start karting, didn't want to move on to single seaters and become a Formula One driver. That was Olivia's dream, not his. But he liked watching. Liked sitting there with his sketchbook open.

They went to the art store, getting Milo everything he needed and more. Beau made grabby hands at everything they passed, but his mother held him still.

As soon as they were done in the art store and Milo's new supplies were in the back of the car, the three of them got ice cream. Milo sat there with a Cherry Berry cone while his mother shared a cup of dairy free, vanilla ice cream with Beau. Between licks of his ice cream, Milo spoke. He spoke about anything and everything that came to mind.

And, as the three of them climbed into the car, art supplies in the boot and bellies full of ice cream, Daniel drove Olivia home from the track.

He held one hand towards Olivia, hand in a fist as he drove. "Pound it," he said and she let go of her little trophy just long enough to fist bump her dad. "I'm gonna have to put up a trophy shelf for you, aren't I?"

Olivia thought about it for a second. "I think a shelf might be a bit small, Dad," he said with a toothy grin.

"That's my girl!" He cheered and turned up the radio. The two of them sung along to whatever was playing from his phone as he drove her back to the house.

As they turned into the driveway, Olivia turned down the radio. "Dad, can we go with you to the next Grand Prix?" She asked as they pulled up in front of the garage.

"What about school, Badger?"

She pouted as she climbed out of the car. "C'mon, dad! I wanna see uncle Max and everyone," she said as she grabbed her bag from the back of the car.

Daniel gave her a look, one Olivia gave right back. The puppy dog eyes. Why had he taught her that? "I'll talk to Y/N," he said and locked the car.

Grinning, Oliva skipped back towards the house. "We're back!" She shouted the moment she walked inside. All sweaty and disgusting, she strode towards the kitchen and placed her trophy on the table, placing it on top of Milo's new sketchbook.

"So," asked Y/N as she turned away from the sink. "How did it go, Liv?"

Before Olivia could open her mouth, her father placed his hand on her shoulder. "Shower first, Badger. And then you can tell them all about how brilliant you were."

Olivia let out a groan, but she headed upstairs, headed towards the bathroom.

Daniel strode towards his wife, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "She was great," he said with a smile before he kissed her. "We've got a future world champion on our hands.

Her arms were around his neck as she kissed him again. "We'll go with you next time," she said, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

Daniel grinned. He kissed her cheeks and her neck, keeping his arms around her as he turned towards his boys. "What're you drawing?" He asked as he looked over Milo's shoulder.

Milo pushed his sketchbook to the middle of the notebook, letting Daniel see what he was working on. It was incredibly cool, a comic strip that took inspiration from Jurassic park. His son was talented, but Daniel knew that already. "Say, Mi, d'you think you'd wanna design my next helmet?"

***

Mr and Mrs Ricciardo didn't need some big, fancy anniversary dinner. Not when they had their kids with them.

Milo sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, putting his new pencils to good use. Every few minutes he was turning back towards Daniel, before turning to the piece of paper in front of him.

The television was playing as the rest of the family sat on the couch behind him. Beau sat on his father's lap and Olivia was against the arm of the chair, tucking into her dinner.

It was a special one, the five of them tucking into the Chinese. The food was crap and they all knew it, but they were happy.

Daniel picked Beau up as he stood. He sat Beau down in his mother's lap and leaned down to kiss her. "Happy anniversary, Mrs Ricciardo," he whispered.

"Happy anniversary, Mr Ricciardo."

But then Daniel was covering Beau's ears as he leaned closer to his wife. "Think we can make another?" He whispered in her ear.

She reached out and smacked his shoulder. Daniel just laughed and kissed her head. "I'm not saying yes, but that's not a definite no," she said as he picked up their plates and took them back to the kitchen.

Suddenly, Milo and Olivia were staring at her. "What's not a definite no, mum?" Milo asked. He looked at Olivia and back at his mother.

The embarrassment was written on her face as she shook her head. "Nothing, kids. Let's just watch the movie, yeah?" She said and ran her fingers through Beau's curls.

Mrs Ricciardo loved her little family.

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 months

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Sugar Fix

Summary: Your poor attempt at a joke lands you in hot water with your man. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth and Sweet Tooth Deluxe.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Arguing, Manhandling, Mentions of Punishment, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Oral Sex (fem rec), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“God, that was good.” You lean back in your seat, lazily stretching your arms over your head. Your man smiles as he dutifully picks up your plate before briefly giving into temptation long enough to press a tender kiss against your lips.

“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat as he repeats the action once more. “Glad you enjoyed it, baby. Still find it hard to believe that you’d never had chocolate chip pancakes before today.”

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You pout, reaching out to swat his perfectly sculpted ass, which was now unfortunately hiding beneath a pair of black sweatpants. At least he’d forgotten to put on a shirt.

Mostly because you were wearing it.

“And I’m not.” Your man chuckles while adding your dishes to the growing pile in your sink. “I’d never do something so foolish. Especially since we only just made up.” He tosses a wink at you over his shoulder.

Yeah, and that was mostly your fault.

“I am really sorry about that.” You murmur, feeling a twinge of regret over having subjected your man to several days of the silent treatment. “I should’ve talked to you about that whole business with Charline.”

“Water under the bridge, baby.”

Resting your chin on your hand, you watch as your bounty hunter busies himself with filling the sink with hot water and dish soap. Some days it still floored you that you were seeing a man who didn’t put up a fuss about cooking. Or cleaning for that matter.

“I just meant that I’m in no hurry to have you toss me out on my ass again just yet.” He continues while sudsing up one of the new sponges you’d left laying on the counter. “That’s all I was saying, little Bird.”

“Well that wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, now would it?” You’re quick to counter, allowing your gaze to drop to your bare knees. “Seeing as you were kind enough to break into my home and cook me breakfast.”

“I had a key.” He snorts dismissively.

“Yeah, one that you stole!” You fire back, doing your best to hide your grin. “From me!”

“What the hell does any of that matter if you were already gonna–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head before deciding to change tactics. “Look sweetheart, if you wanna argue about semantics can you at least wait until we’re both naked?”

“I guess so.” Comes your breezy reply as you fiddle with the hem of Ari’s t-shirt. Granted the fit was much too big for you, but it didn’t change the fact that you loved how wearing it made you feel. There really was something to be said for being surrounded by the heady scent of your man.

“Thank you.” Ari grunts before returning his attention to the stack of dishes in need of a good scrub. “Did you have enough to eat? Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.”

“Sure did.” You beam at him, content to sit back and enjoy the view. No man should be allowed to look that flippin’ sexy while doing simple household chores.

“Good.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was that hungry until I took that first bite. I suppose that’s what I get for not really eating…” You trail off when Ari turns toward you, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. “...much over the last couple days.”

Your pulse speeds up as you watch your Bounty Hunter brace his still-wet hands on the edge of the counter. Which is when you belatedly realize that you probably should’ve kept that tidbit of information to yourself.

“Little Bird?”

“Yes, sugar?” You can’t help but wince at the way he says your name. Even still, you decide to stand up, hoping to distract him from the direction his thoughts were taking. “Want some help drying those plates? Because I don’t mind–”

“When was the last time you ate something?” He cocks his head to the side, almost like he’s studying you while he waits for your answer. “And before you get cute on me, baby, I’m talkin’ about before today.”

You can feel yourself physically wilt as you weigh your options. While you tended to believe that honesty was the best policy, sometimes being too honest had the tendency to get you in trouble with your man.

“I had some toast the other–”

“A full meal.” Ari swiftly interrupts, clearly not in the mood to mince words.

“Well, if you really must know…” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare to stand your ground. “I haven’t found myself with much of an appetite lately.” You sniff, ignoring the way his nostrils flare. “Probably on account of our tiff.”

Okay, now that was absolutely true. Because whether this man realized it or not, he had a knack for always making sure you ate at least one proper meal before the day’s end. With him out of the picture, you hadn’t really had any desire to eat.

Instead of responding, Ari turns to stare out the window, quietly sucking on his teeth as he does. You knew without asking that he was working to rein in his temper before he spoke again, lest he say the wrong thing and start another fight.

“C’mon Beast, it’s really not a big deal.” You shrug, biting your thumb as will him to cast a glance your way. “Besides, I’m pretty sure these hips could stand to miss a meal or two.”

While it was certainly a poor attempt at levity, you felt that one of you had to do something to lighten the mood. You startle when Ari suddenly throws down the sponge into the sink, sending water splashing everywhere.

You watch him slowly dry his hands with a nearby towel before tossing it aside in favor of bridging the distance between you. Good sense and the need for self-preservation has you backing up; however, you scarcely make it two steps before you feel your butt collide with your kitchen table. But your bounty hunter doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“What was that?” He asks without an ounce of friendliness in his tone. In fact, his question comes out sounding more like a dare than anything else. “I reckon I’m a little hard of hearing these days.”

Later, you would kick yourself for taking the bait.

“Ahem.” Clearing your throat, you can’t help but notice the clench of his jaw. “I said that these hips – my hips – could probably stand to miss a meal.” You repeat, giving him your best prim and proper tone.

Sometimes the facts weren’t up for discussion.

Moving with a speed that belies his size, Ari manages to wrap one brawny arm around your waist before using his considerable strength to pin you face down against the kitchen table. Shocked by this sudden mistreatment, you open your mouth fully prepared to protest, only to snap it shut the moment you feel a cool breeze ghost across your bare backside.

“Try again, sweetheart.” The lawman grunts before delivering a hearty smack to your ass, eliciting a rather undignified screech from you. “Oh? I’m afraid I still didn’t quite catch that.”

“There’s no need to act like a brute!” You cry as you struggle against his impossible hold. “It’s not right for you to–ahh fuck!” You damn near lose it when his heavy palm connects with your traitorous cunt, the sound of the wet slap echoing throughout the room.

In that very moment, that sweet bite of pain had never felt so good.

“Ah, sweetness.” Ari coos, a hint of mocking laughter curling around his tone. “Could’ve sworn I’d fucked some sense into you earlier this morning. Are you tellin’ me my work still isn’t done?”

You think back to something he’d said when he was busy fucking you senseless. He’d said, or snarled as it were, that you needed a Sir or a Daddy to help keep you in line. At the time you’d assumed that he’d simply got caught up in the heat of the moment. But now…

Apparently it takes you too long to answer because his next smack has you rising on your toes. You clench your thighs together, desperate to ignore your body’s response. Although it does little to stop your man from wedging a proprietary hand between them anyway.

“Now is not the time to go quiet on me, little Bird.”

He gently cups your most intimate flesh before expertly parting your messy folds with his thick fingers. A soft cry escapes when he lightly pinches your swollen clit, making your hips buck.

Sweet Christ! You honestly had no idea just how much you actually enjoyed being manhandled until you crossed paths with this guy.

“All I was trying to do was answer your question!” You grit out, doing your best to ignore the filthy wet squelch of his palm colliding against your core once more, causing a fresh wave of arousal to dampen your thighs.

“And I didn’t much care for your answer.” Ari hums, taking a moment to lazily pet your now glistening cunt.

And who’s fault was that? Just because the man thought he owned the rights to your body didn’t give him the authority to…to…punish you like this. But when you inform him of that, the only response you get comes in the form of an annoying chuckle.

“I was joking, damn you – ooh!” You whine, stomping your foot for good measure – both of which manages to earn you another spank.

“But that’s just it, baby.” He rumbles, taking a break from further abusing your poor, overworked flesh. “Last I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny.” You press your face against the cool surface of the table as two sinful fingers playfully tease your entrance. “And talking shit about these curves ain’t funny, right?”

“Y-yes! I mean right.” In need of a little relief, you attempt to entice your man by wiggling your ass. But instead of doing as you bid, those same fingers soon find their way back to your swollen bundle of nerves, pinching just hard enough to get and hold your attention.

“Glad you think so.” He murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips along the sensitive shell of your ear as his free hand moves to rub soothing circles along your lower back. “And since I’ve finally got you in the mood to listen, how about we talk about something else?”

Instead of responding, you merely nod – giving him leave to get whatever the hell he wanted off of his perfectly sculpted chest.

“The next time you get the bright idea to shut me out without givin’ me a chance to plead my case, you had better do a damned good job respecting this gorgeous body while I’m on ice.” The air of danger in Ari’s husky purr has goosebumps rippling along your heated flesh. “Because if you don’t, I swear to God the moment you let me back in, I’m gonna do a lot more than spank this pretty pussy. You get me?”

Still unable to form words, you decide to let your body do the talking. Groaning low in your throat, you arch your hips and wiggle your ass, purposely grinding your cunt against his now drenched palm.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He rasps in approval, gently nipping your earlobe with his sharp teeth. “You get me. Yeah, you do.”

As a reward for your submission, Ari takes pity on you by slowly spearing his fingers inside your sopping wet core. Now it’s his turn to groan when he feels your velvety walls flutter around him, eagerly sucking him back in when he tries to pull out.

“Fuck if my girl ain’t got a greedy fucking pussy.” Your bounty hunter muses, more to himself than to you. “Are you sore? Need me to let you rest some more?”

In all reality, what he really wanted to do was splay you out on the table and kiss your puffy pussy lips until you were a sobbing, trembling mess. But he’d also settle for burying himself balls deep inside of you too.

Regardless of which one he chose, they both all but guaranteed that you’d remember this particular lesson for days to come. Because no one was allowed to talk shit about his beautiful Bird – not even you.

“Want you to fill me up again.” You tell him, meaning every word even as his expert touch threatens to rob you of breath. “Help me work up an appetite. Please, Sir.” You tack on the last bit, hoping that might be enough to tip your man over the edge.

Your now frantic pulse sings to new heights when you’re treated to the sound of Ari’s sweatpants hitting the floor behind you. Apparently he felt that you’d been punished long enough – something for which you were grateful.

You can’t help but whine when he finally removes his fingers, leaving your empty walls clenching around nothing but air. Anticipation fills you while you wait, expecting to feel the bulbous head of his cock glide its way through your slippery folds.

However, you’re surprised when he drops to his knees instead. His large, slightly calloused hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs apart just enough to make his intentions clear.

“How ‘bout you feed me first, greedy girl?” He growls, possessively nuzzling his nose along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need all my strength to help your stubborn ass work up a proper appetite.”

“Oo-okaay!” Your legs threaten to give out when Ari’s wide, flat tongue begins lapping at your damp flesh, making a show of savoring your sweet honey. He holds you in place while he feasts, his subtle use of strength letting you know that your only job was to keep still and submit to his sensual assault.

“Mm...” Ari rumbles, enjoying every desperate little whine and whimper that makes its way past your lips. "Best meal I've had in days." Forgoing his need to breathe, he fully buries his head between your thighs, content to eat you from the back as if he had all the time in the world.

Which he did, especially now that make-up sex was once again back on the menu.

END

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chaotic-toasters · 2 months

Text

wHy wOulD yOu dO tHiS iN tHe LiViNg rOoM?

Caitlin Foord x Teen!Reader (Platonic)

TW: Alludes (mentions of?) to smut, no actual graphic descriptions or anything

Minors DNI just to be safe

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

"-No, of course not," you scoffed to your former teammate as you walked onto the driveway. "That's summin' Kyra would do, not me."

Jen smiled. "Well, you might do it if you're sleep deprived. You're nearly as crazy as Kyra when you don't get your rest."

You climbed the steps, pulling your key out of your pocket. "I take offense to that, Beats. No one likes being compared to Kyra, ever. Don't tell her I said tha-aUGH!"

You didn't know what you were expecting when you opened the door, but it was not your sister engaging in... sexual activities with your third captain.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" your hands flew up to cover your eyes as you stumbled about, hitting your back on the doorframe and falling over as Jen sat on the other end of the line, confused. "CAITLIN!"

The frantic rustling of clothing sounded out. "I-"

"wHy wOuLd yOu dO tHiS iN tHe LiViNg rOoM?" You shrieked, voice pitch rapidly changing as you shot to your feet. "YoUr liTtLe siStEr lIvEs wItH yOU!"

Caitlin's Aussie accent was thick with embarrassment. "Y/N, you said you wouldn't be home 'till tomorrow!"

You screamed, blindly sprinting out of the house, phone forgotten on the floor with your hands clawing at your eyes. You didn't even know where you were going, but you from the aggressive honking of cars, you'd crossed the street at least twice. Thankfully for you, your feet had brought you to a familiar house in St. Albans.

"KIM! KIM! KIIIIIM!" you sobbed, desperately banging on the wooden door as the earlier image lingered in your mind. "KIIII-HIII-HIM!"

Your captain yanked the door open, clad in old Arsenal sweats and a jumper. "What happened, Y/N? Are you alright?"

"Caitlin and and and Katie THEYAUAHAUHAUHLBLUHUUHUH!" You babbled, hands rubbing frantically at your eyes like someone had pepper-sprayed you in the face. "AUAHAABUHHUH!"

"Caitlin and Katie what, sweetheart?" Kim pulled you inside worriedly, moving you into a sitting position on the floor and joining you after closing the door. "I can't understand you."

"THEY WERE HAVING SE- SEH—"

Kim gently pried your hands from your eyes as you launched your face into her shoulder, lips pressed into a thin line. "Did you knock, kiddo?"

"THEY WERE IN THE LIVING ROOM!" you cried hysterically, shaking your head as you tried to shake the ghost image. "I DON'T 'WIKE IT!"

The Scot choked on her spit. "What?!"

As you screamed bloody murder into her shoulder, Kim reached for her phone, dialing your national team captain's number. "Steph? Can you and Leah go to Caitlin's flat? She and Katie need a stern talkin' to."

"Why?" you could hear the defender ask.

"They were doing it in the living room. Y/n's in bits."

"Put Y/N on the phone."

Kim obliged, holding the phone to your ear.

"Hey, kiddo—"

"THEY WERE DOING—THEY WERE— THEY AUHHAUGHH—" you cried again, struggling to free your hands from Kim's firm grasp. "I STILL SEE IT, I STILL SEE ITTT!"

Steph sighed. "We're on our way."

"Thanks, Steph, I'll talk to you later. Bye," Kim hung up the phone, wrapping you up in a tight hug as you squirmed. "It's okay, Y/N, it's okay."

You dug your face deeper into her shoulder with a whine. "I don't wanna go back there, Kimmy. I don't wanna."

She murmured her agreement. "You can stay in the spare room tonight, kiddo. I'll have Steph and Leah pick up some of your stuff, and we'll figure out the rest tomorrow."

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

"Hey, Y/N, how's it‐ why are your eyes so red?" Cloe questioned as she sat next to you in her own cubby, concerned. "Have you been crying?"

"Maybe," you answered hoarsely. "I don't know."

Steph whispered something into the Canadian's ear, your teammates eyes filling with surprise and pity. "Oof, sorry, kid."

"Me too, Cloe," you mumbled miserably. "Me too."

The last of the gunners filed into the changing room, your sister one of them. "Y/N, could you step outside so we ca—"

You screamed at the top of your lungs, jolting away and diving into Cloe's arms. "NO!"

"Give her time, Cait," Steph advised, directing her away from you. "You might've scarred her for life."

You sniffled in Cloe's comforting hold. "Why did you have to be the naked one?"

Katie shrugged apologetically. "She is a pillow princess."

You shrieked. "EWWW!"

What am I doing

#Woso x reader #Caitlin Foord x Reader #Caitlin Foord #Arsenal wfc x Reader #Arsenal women x Reader #Arsenal women #Arsenal wfc #kim little #cloe lacasse

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writingsonsaturn · 3 months

Note

Tim's wife coming home for good from the army(that's how her and Tim met) and surprises him at the station and meets the rookies who couldn't believe the hardass Tim bradford was such a softie for someone, let alone married -you did very good on my last request thought I'd give you my other one I had in my notes

for good? - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: here you go pookie <3 and thank you so much! i had a really fun time writing this

word count: 1.5k

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The plane ride was tortuous, your leg bounced up and down uncontrollably waiting for your flight to end so you could finally see Tim.

You had been deployed for nearly two years, and it was hard. Your contract had finally ended, you neglected to tell Tim you had not re-signed it. You had contacted Wade and formed a plan with him to assure everything would go to plan and stay a surprise.

Tim was used to you not calling everyday knowing how busy you were so that was already taken care of, god how you missed Tim. The last several months you knew you were retiring, it was killing you to not share it with Tim but you wanted to be face to face with him, to see the surprise on his face, to be able to hug him tight and tell him you were never leaving again.

As soon as the plane landed you were on your feet reaching for your carry on, you were the first to unboard. Time felt as if it slowed, you looked around and saw families rushing for their flights, and people sitting around or nodding off waiting for their gates to be called. You had almost forgotten what a civilized society looked like, constantly being cooped up on base with people who wear the same clothes, walk, talk, and breathe the same way.

Your eyes became blurry, the image of everything you’ve missed suddenly hitting you. All of the quiet late night talks you didn't get to have, all of Tim’s milestones you weren't there to cheer him on for, nothing had paused when you left, and it was foolish for you to think they would but a small part of you hoped. Your heart ached but you continued your walk to baggage claim, impatiently waited for your bags to finally come into sight on the conveyor belt.

The car ride to the station had been long, although you were jetlagged, the excitement of finally seeing Tim was more than enough to keep your body awake. The moment you saw the station it felt like your heart had skipped a beat, the uber driver dropped you off at the main entrance and you walked in suitcases and duffle bags in hand.

“Hello! Can I help you?” the sweet front dusk lady asked you with a big smile, “Yes, i'm here to see Sargent, Wade Grey.” you returned the welcoming smile. She made a call, presumably to Wade and then allowed you to head up to his office.

“(Y/n)!” Wade greeted as you stepped your heavy boots into his office, “It feels like I haven't seen you in forever!” he walked over and took your mountains of bags off your shoulders and hands before giving you a warm hug. “It has been forever, Sir” you stated, formalities still ingrained in your head “Oh come on, you don’t have to call me ‘Sir,’ just Wade (y/n)” he laughed, you shook your head with a laugh accompanying his.

Everyone welcomed you home with open arms, helping you with putting up banners and blowing up balloons, putting confetti everywhere, making the room very loud and obvious that something big was happening. Wade had made Tim go on a patrol run, making up some excuse that he needed Tim to check out an abandoned warehouse that was possibly housing drug addicts. Clearly that was a lie, Wade knew damn well no suspicious activity was going on at that warehouse but he knew it would give the precinct time to set up your welcome home party.

Tim was very annoyed when he realized there was nothing going on at the abandoned warehouse, it was actually quite clean. Tim sighed and radioed that everything was clear and he was making his way back to the station, on his drive back he had noticed it had been a good while since he heard from you and made a mental note to try and call you later after his shift.

The moment everyone heard Tim’s radio response stating he was coming back to the station, your nerves shot up, you had missed him so much it was killing you. It felt like your soul was constricting and struggling to wait for its other half to be connected to it again, as you waited, you noticed a few new people appear. They looked slightly confused at what exactly Wade had wanted when he radioed them to come back to the station for an important meeting, “Did we walk into the right building?” Nolan asked looking around comically, you had pointed him out immediately from the way he walked in.

Tim had told you about the rookies a couple of years ago when they first came in, Nolan, Lucy, and Jackson. He could not stand Nolan and was glad to not have him as his “boot,” while overseas Tim had called you abnormally early telling you about Jackson and although you had not met him, you heart broke for what he could’ve been. You wished you were home to comfort Tim, and you would’ve gone AWOL just to hug Tim if he hadn’t made you promise you'd stay on base.

Now, Lucy, you had felt bad for Lucy because you knew that she was going to fall victim to all the ‘Tim-Tests’ and have to put up with all of Tim’s stern glances and lack of sense of humor. Tim had talked about Lucy quite a few time’s on calls, he told you about what she had gone through and you knew she was going to be an exceptional cop with how brave she stayed during her time in captivity.

Following Nolan’s confusion was who you assumed was his rookie, you had not been told about her yet but she looked sweet and smiled when she saw you in uniform and the sign above your head that announced “im home.” The young rookie had hit the arm of the other rookie, who Tim had mentioned, Aaron Thorsen. You knew the name, and Tim had expressed his concern for Aaron joining the team.

“You must be the rookie’s Tim told me about!” you grinned widely, they all looked at you surprised and even slightly confused “im (y/n), Tim’s wife! Nice to finally meet you guys” you continued with quiet amusement as they were all left with mouths agape.

“Tim’s wife? The grump was able to get a wife?” the young rookie had asked, looking at you. A small laugh left your body, you knew he wasn’t a big angel at work but you never thought he was that bad to get nicknamed ‘the grump.”

All of them came up to you, introducing themselves and making small remarks at how different you were from Tim, you were sunshine compared to him. That’s what they said at least.

While you all were talking you heard the familiar voice you have waited so long to hear in person, “What happened? What are you guys all doing here?” Tim questioned fast, wondering why so many colors were blowing up in his face. “That’s no way to talk to your colleagues is it, honey.” your snarky remark nearly made him stop breathing, he looked at you, taking your form in. His eyes were wide and teary “(y/n)?” he croaked out, voice breaking. “Im home” you exclaimed with the same croak to your voice, as if time around you two stood still he ran towards you, sweeping you off your feet as he hugged you. “You’re home? I thought you weren’t getting home till next week? What changed?” He had a million questions and you could only answer him one at a time.

“Tim, Baby, I'm home for good. I didn’t re-sign.” you whispered softly, he looked at you like you had personally created the entire milky way right in front of him. “You’re home. Forever?” his knees almost buckled at the thought of being able to wake up next you everyday for the rest of your lives.

You nodded your head and hugged him tighter, he held you like you were the only woman to ever exist. He silently thanked whoever listened that you were home and safe in his arms.

Once you two were done having your moment, he introduced you to the new recruits, and Angela gave you a hug welcoming you home and telling you and Tim, you all had to go on a double date. You were still shocked she had married a lawyer and now had two children.

You sat there with Tim, taking in your environment and enjoying the loud laughter and stories on what Tim did for Lucy’s ‘Tim-Tests’, as you sat listening to the god awful stories, you were at peace, sitting around with the people who kept your husband up and safe while you were away.

You had never been happier and you were glad to be able to feel this with Tim right by your side.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford #the rookie #tim bradford x wife!reader #reader insert

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mypoisonedvine · 3 months

Text

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | riley poole x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - having a girlfriend who can decode secret messages comes in handy when you're a treasure hunter; and having a clingy, needy treasure hunter boyfriend can be annoying when you're trying to decode something, but you find a way to compromise.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 4.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - SMUT (18+ only, and honestly who under 18 is watching this 20 year old movie about the declaration of independence? regardless, minors go away), established relationship, free use kink, touch of dumbification kink, FLIP PHONES (oh the noughties nostalgia), a totally unnecessary plot because everyone deserves a dose of colonial american history with their filth, riley and reader being nerdlove goals

(honestly can't believe I actually wrote this but now that I did I'm like hold up... is this my new obsession??)

When Ben answered the door obviously not ready, and obviously surprised by Riley’s presence, it didn’t take a genius to put together that he’d forgotten about tonight— which Riley had sort of seen coming, with how many times this one thing had been put off or rescheduled at the last minute. One of the downsides of being a treasure hunter? Your coworkers tend to be somewhat… unreliable.

“Riley— what are you doing here?” Ben wondered.

“Warm greeting as always…” Riley sighed before answering the question: “I'm here to pick you up.”

Ben gave Riley an even more confused look.

“For dinner,” Riley added flatly. “At Talerico’s. To meet my—”

“To meet your new girlfriend, oh god,” Ben realized, “was that tonight?”

“No, it's tomorrow, I'm just picking you up twenty-four hours in advance,” Riley replied snarkily.

“I'm sorry, Riley,” Ben sighed, “I really— I do wanna meet her, Abigail did too— but I completely forgot— can we move this to another night?”

“Ben, we've moved this so many times that she's not even a new girlfriend anymore,” Riley sighed.

“I know, I know, but we can't tonight— Abigail just went out,” Ben justified.

“Where'd the missus go?”

“The library, she's trying to help me with something.”

“A clue? It's another clue, isn't it,” Riley realized, not trying very hard to hide his excitement.

“I was going to call you tomorrow,” Ben explained. “Come in, I’ll show you.”

After walking into Ben’s house and upstairs to the study, Riley wrinkled his brow when Ben handed him the coded message. “Well, that’s just a whole bunch of letters,” Riley noticed.

“Astute as always, Riley,” Ben frowned. “We found them in a journal that belonged to James Madison.”

“Why would James Madison write down a bunch of random letters in his journal?”

“No— each letter was underlined in a different entry. And, at the back, we found this,” Ben continued, showing Riley a scanned parchment.

“GABE FADECCE,” Riley read aloud, changing his mind a few times about the pronunciation. “It’s a name, right?”

“It must be,” Ben shrugged, “but we’ve been searching online for any evidence of a Fadecce family or a Gabriel that worked for or with Madison, and we haven’t found anyone. That’s what Abigail went to the library for.”

“It sounds Italian, could he be Italian?” Riley wondered as Ben set down the images with a sigh.

“I don’t know— possibly, but we’re at a dead end at this point,” Ben replied. “I’m sure we’d have a lot more to work with if we could decipher those letters from the journal entries, but we were up all night trying to figure it out—”

“Not what I’d be up all night doing with my girlfriend, but okay,” Riley interjected.

“And I haven’t gotten anywhere with it,” Ben concluded.

“Wait— you can't solve it?” Riley challenged with a smug grin. “The Ben Gates can't solve a clue?”

“It's not that I can't, it's just that a code like this requires a lot of time,” Ben explained. “I'm a historian, not a cryptographer.”

“We need a codebreaker,” Riley nodded thoughtfully, “somebody who can decode something this complex, and knows enough about the Founding Fathers to have some context for the message...” He tapped on his chin like he was really thinking about it, before proudly smiling and tilting his head in faux-realization. “Hey, how about a former intelligence agent who specialized in decryption, with a master's in world history and beautiful eyes that you can get lost in for hours?”

Ben raised an eyebrow at Riley. “Yes, that would be great— give or take the eyes thing— but where are you gonna find one of those?”

“At Talerico’s,” Riley announced, “waiting at a table for four.”

“Your girlfriend is a cryptographer?” Ben realized with wide eyes.

“I told you you'd like her,” Riley beamed.

Riley was engrossed in his game, furiously clicking the mouse and clacking at the keyboard before mumbling a curse of defeat and pulling the headset off; sighing, he turned around and looked over the back of the couch at you.

He'd only started playing the game because you weren't giving him attention, so it made sense that as soon as he died, he'd go back to bugging you. “Hey,” he greeted plainly, smiling yet clearly fighting the urge to pout.

You were laying on your stomach on the bed, half-dressed, looking at the pages Ben had given you and scribbling notes on a pad. “Hey,” you returned flatly after a pause, adjusting your reading glasses before taking a few more notes.

“You look cute doing that,” he hummed.

“Doing what?”

“Thinking.”

You frowned a little in concentration but didn't look away from your papers. “I like to think I'm always thinking…”

“No wonder you're so cute all the time then,” he cooed, leaning in closer and resting his chin in his hands.

He waited for a moment for you to keep the conversation going, but sighed when you simply continued working on the cipher without paying him any mind.

Getting off the couch with a sigh, he hopped onto the bed and laid beside you, making the mattress bounce a few times. He kept looking at you for a little while, eventually reaching out and rubbing your back for a moment, before sliding himself even closer to you and planting a kiss on your shoulder.

Even with ninety-five percent of your attention on the puzzle in front of you, you could still tell what sort of mood Riley was getting himself into. “Well, there is one thing that makes you stop thinking…” he recalled in a purr, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and giving you a teasing trail of kisses there.

You sighed a little and shrugged him away. “Riley, I need to focus.”

“Baaabe,” he pouted. “I can't help it, you're just so— how am I supposed to resist you like this?”

“I'm literally just laying here,” you noticed.

“You know what you do to me in those bifocals, sweetheart.”

You snorted and finally looked back at him, admiring the puppy dog eyes he was giving you— they almost always worked on you, and he knew it. Sighing in relent, you looked back at the pages in front of you. “I need to get this done, I promised your friend I would finish it in twenty-four hours,” you explained, “but you can go ahead.”

“Go ahead?” he repeated, confused.

“You can just use me, while I work,” you offered flippantly, hardly noticing the way his face turned red.

“R-right… I can just, um… use you. That's— okay, sure,” he coughed nervously.

“Just be quick,” you insisted.

“Yeah, that's a challenge,” he scoffed, shuffling on the bed to straddle your legs and run his hands over your back. “I, uh, like when you wear my shirts,” he informed you, as if feeling his erection press against your ass wasn’t enough of a clue.

“Just get on with it, please?” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah— sorry…” he mumbled, moving his hands down to your panties which he traced slowly. “These are cute,” he noticed aloud anyways, and you sighed a bit to yourself as you realized how futile it was to try to keep him from talking. You were just going to have to tune him out to get this done.

His fingers shakily hooked into the elastic and pulled your panties down, a low hum echoing in his chest as he looked at you. Grabbing handfuls of your ass and kneading them gently, he mumbled something to himself that you weren’t really paying attention to— until he got your attention suddenly with a quick slap. “Hey!” you yelped, jumping slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed through a grin, “couldn’t help myself. I-I won’t distract you anymore, okay? Just, you know, keep working…”

You did just that, of course, re-ordering the papers in your hand to look at the scanned back page again.

He went on mumbling to himself as he shoved his sweatpants down to his thighs to free his cock: “juuuust keep working,” he breathed.

He spit into his hand quickly and smeared it on himself, before nudging in between your legs and pressing himself to your opening.

Admittedly, you did react slightly when he pushed inside you— a wince from the stretch of it, especially without much preparation— but you managed to keep quiet and focus on your work again. “God, so tight,” he groaned, digging his fingers into your hips slightly as he slid deeper. “You're too good to me, baby…”

He pushed as deep as he could go, which was honestly a bit further than you expected at this angle, and leaned over you slightly as he started to move.

“You feel so good,” he praised through a heavy breath, not taking very long to savor the moment before picking up speed. You knew if you reacted too strongly to what he was doing, he'd notice instantly and start trying to pull you away from your work; so, you did your best to focus on the problem, even if you found yourself gripping the pages a bit tighter.

Even if your attention was straight ahead, you almost wished you could see him now— but then again, you had a pretty good idea of what you would see if you looked back: his mouth parted slightly with sighs of pleasure, a subtle pink flush across his face, his eyes going a little glassy as they drifted over you. In fact, you could sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially at those times that his fingers traced your back and hips.

Realizing something suddenly about the cipher in front of you, you put your pen between your teeth and pulled the cap off, biting down on it slightly to hold it in place so you could keep writing on the paper your other hand held. “Fuck, you're so hot,” Riley groaned, starting to thrust a bit more urgently. Resisting the urge to smile to yourself too much, you kept taking your notes and didn't especially pay attention to him behind you, even when his occasional whimpers started to grow louder.

For the most part, you were able to keep your focus. It wasn’t that Riley was especially easy to ignore— certainly not with him going just a bit faster with every thrust— but you were finally on a roll with this puzzle; maybe you would’ve already solved it if it weren’t for your boyfriend, even if he was a welcome distraction.

He panted with each movement, holding on tighter to your hips. “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning down after a moment to rest his forehead on your shoulder. Normally, you would have to stop yourself from reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, but you were too engrossed in your work; and it was a good thing, too, because if you’d done that he almost certainly would’ve grabbed the papers and tossed them away, impatiently demanding for you finish that later and let him finish now.

Instead, it seemed like the pace and intensity of both your decryption and his movements grew together: your writing was hurried while his thrusts were faster and harder suddenly, until you could hear skin hitting skin, his groans muffled slightly as they came out through his teeth.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, taking your pen away from the paper abruptly and looking at your work.

“Yeah, you like that?” he encouraged in a rough voice.

“Oh my god, I solved it,” you announced, hardly noticing how he'd misunderstood your exclamation.

That seemed to break him out of his focus for a moment, and he stopped moving as he leaned down over you, resting his chin on your shoulder to read the page you were holding. “At the place of eighty-five pleas, remove the Crucifiction keys,” he read aloud from the paper— once he managed to navigate your disorganized notes.

“It's a polyalphabetic substitution cipher,” you explained excitedly. “Once I realized the key word was his wife’s name it was relatively simple— aside from having to reverse engineer some Vignere tables—”

“But what does it mean?” he wondered. “What even is a Crucifiction key? Please don’t tell me Ben’s gonna rob some nuns.”

“This was Madison’s journal,” you recalled, “and he co-wrote the Federalist papers with Alexander Hamilton and John Jay— eighty-five pleas— but Hamilton wrote the majority in his home. I think we need to go to his estate, and see if they still have any of the instruments he owned.”

“Instruments?”

“The Crucifiction keys, that threw me off too,” you admitted, “but Hamilton was a pretty accomplished pianist— but he would’ve played the colonial precursor to the piano, the fortepiano, which was created by an Italian inventor named Cristofori. Cristo as in Christ, obviously, and fori meaning ‘holes’. The Crucifiction! The keys are piano keys!”

“But who’s Gabe Fadecce?” he pressed.

“It’s not a name,” you answered, “it’s a song. G, A, B, E, F…” you hummed each note as best you could recall. “If we start at the first key in the bass and take out the first G, A, and so on up the scales, I’m guessing there will be another clue beneath them, or on the back or something.”

“You're amazing,” he smiled, kissing you on the cheek proudly.

“I'll call Ben,” you decided, reaching to pick up your phone from nearby on the bed and flip it open; you hadn't even opened your contacts yet before Riley wrapped his hand around yours and— gently— pulled it away and closed it.

“I'll call Ben,” he offered, “later.”

You turned to look at him, and he smiled at you, though there was something softer and darker about his gaze as it fell slowly to your lips.

“You and I have unfinished business first,” he continued softly before kissing you with more patience than you expected from him after all that…

When he pulled away, you reached up to take off your glasses, but he clicked his tongue as he stopped your hand from moving any further.

“No no no, leave those on,” he encouraged. You grinned before he kissed you again, his weight sinking into your back as he slipped an arm around your shoulders. You moaned softly into the kiss when he started moving again; it was a relaxed pace, but with him draped over you like this, he seemed to go so much deeper.

When he pulled away, you found yourself leaning towards him for more— but he just smirked at you and propped himself upright again, starting to move faster behind you.

“Look back at me,” he requested in a softer voice, and when you turned to look over your shoulder at him behind you, you found him biting his lip at the sight. “Oh god,” he choked on a groan, meeting your gaze before shutting his eyes and tilting his head back. “Fuck, is it weird that you ignoring me kinda turned me on?”

You laughed a little, and shook your head. “No, that's fine… I can go back to it, if you want—”

“No, please— I still like you better like this,” he insisted. “I like how responsive you are.”

He ran his hand up your back and you shivered, rocking your hips up slightly as he ran his fingers over your hair before taking a hold of your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathed, something beautifully dark to his voice, “like that.”

He began to fuck you hard— not fast, but intense and deep and just the right amount of impatient— and you didn't even try to hold back the loud whine of pleasure that jumped from your chest. “Fuck,” you gasped, “oh my god, yes…”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged, watching with half-lidded eyes at the way you moved under him, your body naturally starting to rock back towards his. “Tell me how that feels.”

“Good,” you panted.

“But not good enough to distract you from your work, huh?” he challenged.

“Well, to be fair, nothing feels better than cracking a code,” you giggled.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, putting his hands on either side of you on the bed so he could lean down and kiss your neck, only to bite it a second later— not too hard, but a little harder than just playful. You felt him smile when you yelped softly. “You’re trying to piss me off, right?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged a little bit.

He sat back up and pulled out of you unexpectedly, but thankfully explained himself before you would’ve likely let out a pathetic whine that he would’ve held against you. “Turn over,” he instructed, “and take that shirt off.”

You flipped onto your back with a smile; “I thought you liked how I look in your shirts,” you reminded him as he helped you pull it over your head and toss it aside.

“Yeah, but I like how you look without them even more,” he explained, running his hands along your sides before surprising you as he suddenly bent down to swirl his tongue around a hardening nipple.

“Fuck,” you gasped, grabbing onto his hair as he moved to the other, first with his eyes shut and then opening them to look up at you as your back arched.

“You’re so pretty,” he praised as his lips traveled to your neck; he yanked you closer by your hips, making you laugh slightly with surprise as you slid across the bed, though it turned into a moan when he thrust into you again in one go.

This time, he didn’t hold back at all: rough, needy, hungry. You moaned louder than you planned to, grabbing onto his shoulders through his t-shirt.

“Sorry,” he panted out through a thin laugh, “but I can’t slow down now— not after you drove me crazy like that. God, baby, you’re so fucking wet—”

You choked on the back of your own throat; you couldn’t help it, you just loved the way he said that.

“— this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” you mumbled,

“You like when I use you, huh?” he taunted, and you bit your lip before nodding. “That’s pretty kinky, you know. Is that all you wanna be? A fucktoy?”

“Oh god,” you groaned, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulder, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“Want me to just fuck you whenever I feel like it, whatever you’re doing?” he continued.

“Yes,” you admitted in a hiss, head dropping back onto the bed.

“You're really trying to spoil me,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your neck in between words. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart— I might end up fucking you five times a day. At least.”

You moaned lowly, feeling your muscles seize up on him briefly, making him laugh in the most condescending-yet-sexy way.

“Oh, fuck— you want that!” he realized, and his voice dropped to a low growl again as he thrusted even faster, teeth teasing your pulse. “You can never get enough, can you?”

Not that you ever really thought your response to that was going to be especially coherent… but the way you cried out totally gave yourself away; how had he made you so desperate so fast?!

“Oh, poor baby,” he offered pityingly, only to fuck you even faster until you whined pathetically. “You don’t wanna think, huh? Just wanna be my hole.”

“Y-yeah,” you gasped, “fuck…”

“You’re too fucking perfect, you know that?” he praised. “The only thing sexier than fucking you while you use that gorgeous brain of yours, is fucking you until you can’t.”

Your moan was sort of trapped in the back of your throat as you tried to swallow it down; you wished you had the wherewithal to hold it back better, but you weren’t really used to him talking like this. Normally he would just go on tangents of praise and begging (as needed), and even though it wasn’t your first glimpse of his more dominant side, this all felt a bit different. Even the way he was looking at you seemed different— a sort of pride in his eyes, pride in his own ability to turn you into a wet and whimpering mess.

“So fucking good,” he cooed, “you’re so good, baby— my good, dumb little fucktoy.”

“G-god,” you choked, holding on tighter to the sheets under you, trying to hold yourself together.

“You’d better come fast, ‘cause I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he warned with a sigh— which would be a much more credible threat if he’d ever left you hanging. But no, those times Riley’s stamina hadn’t taken you all the way, he was more than happy to put his mouth on you and let it do the rest of the work.

This time, though, all he needed was a thumb drawing rough circles on your clit to help you along. You hadn’t even noticed how sensitive it had become, not until your back arched and a needy whine jumped from your chest. “Oh fuck, Riley, I’m close,” you yelped.

“Yeah?” he whined— actually, he repeated it a few times as he watched you get closer to your peak, but it was all falling on deaf ears as your moans got louder and louder.

“Yes!” you cried out, shaking under him; even with his weight pressing you down into the bed, it began to feel like you were floating somehow. It was one of those orgasms that left you a little numb, with little jolts of raw pleasure that were almost too much— but your only defense was holding tighter onto him, inside and out.

“O-oh god,” he choked weakly, the movement of his thumb slowing but his hips going faster than ever. “Fuck, fuck!”

He stopped all at once, burying himself in one last stroke as deep as he could reach, moaning lowly against the crook of your neck as he went mostly limp atop you.

After catching your breath for a few moments, you hummed softly in contentment and he carefully lifted himself up just to fall back down beside you on the bed. He looked at you with heavy eyes but a huge smile; “You wear me out, you know that?” he breathed, reaching up to move some hair stuck to your face.

“You distract me from my work, you know that?” you countered.

“Hey, you got it done,” he defended. “We’ll let Ben know as soon as I… you know, remember how to exist. And use cell phones.”

“And maybe after a shower…” you suggested. As soon as you saw the sparkle in Riley’s eye you added: “Separately. I’ll pass out before we can make it to dinner tonight if we just end up fucking again.”

“I mean, they’ve been putting off dinner for months— why can’t we blow them off for once?” he suggested with a smirk, moving closer to you on the bed.

“I thought I’d worn you out,” you remembered with a breathless laugh, and he wrapped an arm around you to pull you into him.

“You did,” he sighed against your neck, “I’m just… easily re-inspired.”

It was a good thing this place was mostly empty, since this was technically somewhat sensitive information, but you figured anyone who overheard wouldn’t know enough about the conversation to glean anything too significant. You found yourself rubbing your hands together under the table anxious as you watched Ben across from you, holding your work, and waited for his response.

“This is incredible,” Ben smiled as he read your decryption, making both you and Riley smile back with pride. “A polyalphabetic substitution cipher, I should’ve known.”

“Yeah, any idiot would’ve known that,” Riley joked flatly.

“Where’d you find this girl?” Ben asked him, and you glanced at your boyfriend to find a little flush on his cheeks.

“You know, the technical answer is that we met at a panel lecture proposing that certain ‘random’—” he accentuated the word with a sarcastic tone and air-quotes— “radio frequencies detected by military technology might be messages from extraterrestrials—”

Ben rolled his eyes even at the passing mention of one of Riley’s more absurd conspiracy theories.

“But,” Riley continued, “I have a theory that she was actually created in a lab, specifically for me, by a team of scientists with the inexplicable goal of making me happy.”

“Oh, come on,” you giggled nervously, shoving Riley on the shoulder but failing to stop him from giving you a kiss on your heated cheek.

“That line working on you really is a testament to the fact that you’re made for each other,” Ben offered, and you decided to ignore the backhanded element of the compliment because of your sense that there was something very genuine about it.

“Look who’s here,” Riley pointed towards the front door of the restaurant, over Ben’s shoulder, causing the latter to turn in his seat and look back. “Abigail, over here!”

She waved when she saw you, quickly approaching the table and taking her seat as she apologized for being tardy; “This is Dr. Abigail Chase,” Ben introduced her with a proud smile.

“Oh, don’t be so formal,” she gently scolded him (maybe everything she said sounded that nice with her accent, though), but she beamed as she grabbed your extended hand to shake it. “It’s so nice to meet you, finally— I’ve heard so much from Riley. He’s been bragging about you so much these past few months, I feel like I already know you!”

“Apparently he met her attending some panel about secret alien messages from space,” Ben told her with a smile and a yeah, I know, it’s crazy look in his eyes.

“Attending?” Riley repeated with a scoff. “We were both speakers!”

Abigail was a little better at hiding any judgmental instinct; “How perfect,” she announced sweetly.

“She’s a real whiz with decryption though— look at this,” Ben instructed, handing the (condensed) page of your notes over to Abigail, who took it and tilted her head as she read to herself.

“Wow,” she sighed, “you made quick work of it: Hamilton’s fortepiano? That must be in a museum somewhere.”

“It’s still in his home in New York,” you replied quickly, “we already looked into it.”

“Did you help her at all with the solve?” Ben asked Riley suddenly, who turned to you with a slightly mischievous look in his eyes.

“Uh,” he stalled before clearing his throat nervously, but never looking away from you— “y-yeah, I helped… in my own way.”

#riley poole x reader #riley poole smut #national treasure #justin bartha

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 5 months

Text

waking up in his bed

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, marks, a bit of spit stuff, dry (wet?) humping, swallowing)

part before: hanging off König's shoulder

When I open my eyes up again, for just a moment, I don’t know where I am. My own confused image stairs back at me – right, the mirror on his ceiling! And I laugh to myself because it’s ridiculous. The whole concept is!

I stretch myself, yawning. Realising that I’m alone in the kingsize bed. I mean, it would be impossible to miss the big guy. I still feel his lingering touches, the way he held onto me as we fell asleep together. Reminders of the first time hooking up after the concert.

I’m somebody who normally can’t sleep in a tight embrace, but he was pratically latching onto me both times. Subconsciously in his sleep. Holding onto me, softly still. If it were possible for him to wrap himself around me completely, I bet he would’ve done it. His big arm resting over my torso, the forearm securely between my breasts, his hand on the side of my face. One of his legs strewn over one of mine. Almost like a human weighted blankie. And I still slept soundly.

I yawn and stretch again, until I notice a little piece of paper stuck to my arm. I peel it off and look at it.

That explains where he went off to, but it also makes him out be a liar, because I don’t believe I look anywhere near cute in the morning. Drooling into the soft pillow underneath my head. My hair standing off to the side. Probably snoring as well.

And I have to laugh as I see the little doodle in the right corner. Honestly, it’s a relief to see – considering the man’s many talents – that he isn’t good at everything. Drawing doesn’t seem to be his forte. But at the same time, this was painfully cute. The note, the doodle, everything. I giggle to myself and finally pull back the covers.

I assess the ‘damage’ while I get up: Booty hurts a little bit, probably from getting fucked into the hard wood surface of the bar. The muscles in my legs are a little tense, my shoulders and neck feel a bit stiff, and my pussy is a little bit sore (and deeply satisfied). The hickeys and the faint bitemark on my inner thighs bring a little smile to my face. It couldn’t have been clearer if he had written ‘König was here’ in waterproof sharpie on them.

I put on my shirt, still not daring to take one of his because of how it might look, and curse myself because I didn’t pack more clothes. It’s not terribly stinky or stained, but it definitely looked better yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, my eyes darting to the shower, remnants of last night in the forefront of my mind before I go on a search for my panties.

I find them on the floor in the bar, the memories of yesterday flooding me, the forgotten cocktail still on the bar. He had to make another one, because the icecubes had already melted and the gin was warm.

I leave the cellar going up the stairs until I stand in the living room again, looking at the books I set aside yesterday.

There is another crystal tumbler on the end table, this one empty. Just one because we shared it.

The glass moving from my hand to his and back, while we were listening to music, talking. Cuddling on the couch. My legs splayed over his thighs, barely reaching all the way to the other side. His arm around my waist, his thumb painting little circles over my hip. My fingers tangled in his hair and digging into the scalp, massaging gently until he was humming quietly.

His mouth placed on the glass where mine was, just a moment before, taking another sip.

Lingering kisses, slow and sweet, turning into little sips of the drink being passed between us. Tasting him and the gin at the same time. A heady combination.

I felt myself getting sleepier and sleepier the later it got, until I yawned and almost fell asleep in his arms, then he finally got me to agree that we should head to bed.

I hear the front door open, the sound ripping me from my memories. I turn around, skipping in that direction.

König is standing in the hallway, taking off his shoes, a grocery bag in his hands. In his usual leatherjacket, shirt and… sweatpants? Casual black sweatpants. Yeah no, I totally feel normal about them. I can’t help but ogle him, because he looks like a wet dream, even in the most mundane outfits.

He sees me, his face lighting up in a grin. “No pants again, huh?”, he comments, his eyes dropping down my body.

I blush. “Uh, I can put some on, if it bothers you.”

He laughs. “Doncha dare hide that cute ass of yours.” He comes closer and leans down, dropping a kiss onto my mouth and his hand to my ass. Patting it twice, quickly and playful. “I almost didn't want to leave bed this morning...”, he whispers against my lips and deepens the kiss, for just a moment.

“I got your note.”, I say as we tumble into the kitchen.

He puts the shopping bag down on the counter. “Yeah, went to the supermarket. And I also got us some croissants from the bakery.”

“The little shop at the corner to Main Street?”, I ask.

“Yes.”, he smiles.

“Hell yeah, I love their croissants, they're the best.”, I exclaim.

“Baked goods, the only thing the french are good at.”, he comments pointedly.

“Oh man, you and the french.”, I laugh as I hop onto the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. Watching him unpack the groceries and getting said baked goods.

He pulls one croissant out of the brown paper bag and hands it to me unceremoniously. I grab it and take a bite, the flakey dough bursting as my teeth cut through it. The little sigh that drops from my lips sounds a little too enamored, a little too enthused for just eating a croissant. He looks at me, his jaw dropping just a bit.

“What?”, I ask, still munching on the pastry dough.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head mumbling something that sounds a bit like "never thought I'd be jealous of a fucking croissant".

That makes me laugh. "Thanks for getting them, but you didn't need to get up early for that."

He shrugs. "I'm an early bird anyway out of habit, and I had to go out and buy some milk, because I forgot about that.", he explains, pulling said milk out of the grocery bag.

I look at him, a little confused.

"I drink my coffee black, so I never have any milk at home.", he adds, as if that was a given.

A grin stalks on my face. “Of course you do.”, I say pointedly.

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”, he asks.

I tilt my head and pull my brows up, all like 'are you being serious?'. “Let's just say that I would have been way more surprised if the over 40-year-old metalhead, who has a car that looks like it's from the nineties, who still collects vinyls and CDs, who would rather drink his gin neat and who's biggest kitchen appliance is a barista coffee machine with all the knick-knacks – if he drank a latte in the morning.”

He laughs, the hearty sound making me all giddy. “Tell me how you really feel.”, he says, his eyes sparkling at me, while jokingly clasping one hand over his heart.

“Sorry.”, I say, grinning at him.

He waves it off. “Don’t be, I deserved that.” He gets some coffee beans ready, putting them through the grinder and then fitting the portafilter into the barista machine.

While the coffee drips down into the cup, he comes closer standing right in between my knees. “But, how about you, missy? Do you like a latte in the morning?” The little quirk of the corner of his mouth is telling me that this isn’t just some question about my coffee preferences. It’s one of his telltale signs.

“I do, but I feel like I'm missing the joke here.”, I say, looking up at him. Sitting on the counter, he still towers over me, more than a head taller than me.

He chuckles. “Well, ‘Latte’ is also another word for boner in German, so...” He sees the grimace I'm making and laughs some more, and I join in, while shaking my head. He steps away and repeats the process, getting another coffee ready.

"I'm starting to think that your language only has dirty innuendos and curses.", I remark, jokingly.

He grins. "That just might be my vocabulary." He pours some milk into a metal jug and froths it, adding the froth to the mug after the coffee is ready. Wincing at the shitload of milk he put in. "Here, a latte for the lady.", he says, while handing me the mug.

My eyes drop down of their own volition, as I take it from his hands. Openly staring at his crotch, where his sweatpants are clearly tented by his dick. And he comes even closer with the way I'm looking at him.

My gaze pans up again until it lands on his face, his expression stoic, as he’s pulling an eyebrow up, like he’s awaiting what I’ll do. I take a drink, tasting the coffee on my tongue. "Thank you. For the latte." Trying to hide my grin behind the mug. "Sir.", I add, cheekily.

He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in. The look in his eyes burning into me. I still grin up at him, but I feel like I'm in danger. In danger of getting devoured like one of those flaky croissants.

"You wanna say that again with your lips around my dick? Hm?", he asks and my breath halts. Thinking about yesterday again. When I sat on his bed, gagging around his cock.

"Maybe.", I whisper. He just leans down to kiss me and I can taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, as it strokes against mine. Slow and deep.

I put the cup down to the side before my arms reach up, holding onto his shoulders, his hair falling to the front, the tips of it brushing over my skin. I push some of it back, my fingers tangle in the long strands, while I answer his kiss.

He's not breaking away, still caging me in, even though one of his hands moves to my panties. The fingers toying with the hem, easily slipping under the fabric. My legs spread even wider, I squirm into his touch and our kiss gets messier, sloppier. His thumb finds my clit, softly pressing against it, and the light touch makes me needy for more.

"Fuck, please.", I whimper into the kiss, and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He breaks away, keeping up the constant brushes against my clit, kissing down to my neck.

My hand tries to reach for his dick, but he catches my wrist. "Just- let me.", he murmurs, pressing his hot mouth against my pulse point. Sucking on it softly. A needy mewl escapes me when his middle finger slips into me. Just one digit, not quite enough to fill me up, even with his big fingers.

Soft teasing touches, enough to get me worked up, but not enough to get me anywhere near finishing. And he knows what he's doing.

König pulls back, his lids hooded, his gaze intently on me, which makes me acutely aware of the expression on my own face, the O shape of my mouth. His finger is still moving inside me, the brushes against the most sensitive spot make me squirm.

I teether on the edge of an orgasm, until he pushes another one inside me, filling me up. His fingers move fast now, against my fluttering walls. Coaxing the release out of me and I come, pulsing around them. Leaving me wet and needy for more touches.

He pulls the panties over my pussy again, the fabric soaking up my juices in an instant. His hand clasps over it, softly massaging over it, until they soaked wet with my own juices.

König simply pushes his sweatpants down, pulling out his cock, letting it rest against my clothed pussy. Then he spits and a dollop of saliva drops onto my panties. The sound alone makes me whimper, while I lean back until my shoulderblades hit the cabinets behind me.

The spit runs down, right over the tip of his dick. He drags it through it, spreading the wetness on his length, soaking my underwear even more. Slow and deliberate, taking his time. The slick just being enough, so he can flit over it.

I groan at the sight, the filthy little move making me even hotter. He pulls up one eyebrow while looking at me, the smirk on his lips infuriatingly cocky. He ruts his hips forward, his hard dick pushing against my pussy lips and clit. The friction due to the fabric in between us, against my sensitive skin, is almost too much to handle, my hands gripping his arms, nails digging into his biceps.

His hands splayed on my thighs and he looks down, my eyes following his until we're both fixed on the spot where he is rubbing himself against me. The little hickeys on the skin next to it. His thumb coasts over the bitemark on my inner thigh, a faint imprint still showing up. He lifts his hand for just a moment, pressing a kiss to his pointer and middle finger and then pressing them onto the mark.

If I wasn't so wound tight from his teasing touches, I think I would've actually awww'ed at the little gesture, him kissing the bite better. Like this, I only sigh, grinding against his dick, searching for more friction.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against mine. "Fuck, I need to be inside you.", he grunts, his words sending a shiver down my spine. He lifts me from the countertop, my legs wrapping around him.

"What, no magic condoms appearing out of thin air this time?", I tease him, my fingers stroking over his shoulders.

“The magician is out of props for such stunts.”, he grumbles. “And there will still be enough time to fuck you on every surface in the whole house.”

He hurries upstairs to the bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and we both scramble to get off our clothes. I pull my shirt over my head and fall into the soft mattress, watching him shed his. His dick is hanging out his sweatpants, half caught in the waistband, bobbing up and down with his movements before he lets the pants fall down to the floor.

He grabs a condom out of the pack that's lying out on the nightstand, the packaging torn at the front, and puts the rubber on.

My eyes pan up from the dark fluff of his happy trail, the tummy, the upper abs and his huge pecs, dark hair peppered over them. His nipple piercing. The broad shoulders, adorned with black ink that spans down his arms as well. Trying not to look at the parts where cuts and other scars disturbed the otherwise impeccable images inked into the skin.

He looks back at me, from underneath his eyebrows, one of them quirking up, as he climbs onto the mattress, his weight pushing it down.

I yelp and giggle, as he grabs me by the hips, pulls me into him, until the swells of my ass hit his thick thighs. My legs drop to the side on their own, and he takes that as the invitation it is, his hand pulling the wet panties to the side and just slipping into me.

We both groan as he settles deep inside me, the stretch of his thickness making my head drop back and my eyes roll back.

His hand catches my chin, softly digging into it. Making me look up as he sits back on his knees and slowly starts to fuck me.

“See how fucking pretty you are?”

His eyes are on me, on my face, while I look up at the mirror, focused in on the point where we are connected. Seeing how his dick pushes into me, until he's balls deep, his tip pressing up against my cervix.

Sliding out, inch by inch, almost completely pulling out. In again. I feel the stretch as my pussy takes him in. It's a tight fit, but I'm wet and dripping from how he worked me up.

And out. The feeling of emptiness only dissipates, when his hips snap forward, filling me up quickly, and a moan drops from my lips, the shape contorted to an O.

He starts to fuck me harder, his hand coming around my throat, his fingers closing around my neck, gentler than I would have liked. Pulling me into him while he pounds into me. His hand is other still grabbing onto my panties, the fabric aching as he uses it as leverage to move me into his thrusts.

Rip.

The sound of fabric ripping cuts through the otherwise soft erotic soundscape. The drowsiness drops out of his gaze, his eyes widen in shock, as he looks down, stopping his thrusts. "Scheiße, sorry.", he curses.

I laugh a bit while I shake my head. "Don't worry, it's just clothes.", sitting up on my elbows, reaching out for him. Needing him to continue.

He lets go of them, the fabric hanging from my hips, and leans forward, pressing a deep kiss onto my mouth in apology. His hand softly strokes the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Close, so close, his forehead resting against mine, as he rolls his hips against me.

He straightens back up, picking up his thrusts again. His arm spans over my whole body, the muscled limb covering half of me. I feel so small compared to him, the contrast so stark when I'm splayed out like this in front of him.

His hand moves down a bit and his thumb pushes against my lips. I lick it, play with it and then release it with a pop, but just a moment later two of his fingers push into my mouth again.

He sinks in deep, my lips closing around them. Two is almost too much already. I start to lick them, to suck on his fingers, hesitatingly at first, but the little sounds that drop from his lips spur me on.

He moves them in unison with the pushes of his dick into me. The combined touches making me lose my mind fast. It almost was like he was fucking me from the front and back at the same time.

I gag around him, spit coats his digits as I suck them off like I would another part of him. And I guess, he is thinking about that as well, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

The sight mirrored back to me – of his dick pounding into me, while his fingers are fucking my mouth all sloppily, pushing into the wet heat, my lips barely reaching the lettering on his knuckles, is getting me worked up.

From the way he's looking at me, his eyes fixed on my face, while I swallow him up, it's driving him crazy too. Groaning, as I take him deep.

Him, just him, fucking me. And me at his mercy. Full, so full of him. And I can't help but think about what it would be like to have him fill all of my holes. The thought alone sends a tingle of filthy desire down my spine and I hum around him.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.", he drawls. His words, the soft growl in them, wash over me and I can feel the zap of pleasure deep, when he bottoms me out, his dick hitting the right spot again.

I come, my body arching off the sheets, my sighs and screams muffled by the fingers in my mouth, as my eyes roll back.

He doesn't stop, fucking me through it. My pussy squeezes around him, and while I still come down from the orgasm, I can feel his other hand grabbing my hip, holding tight. His fingers still in my mouth, stroking against my tongue. Sinking into my throat, the letters on his knuckles disappearing as he pushes further in, and I gag around them once again.

They leave my mouth, all of a sudden, and I take a deep breath. "Please fuck, I-", he groans. "I want to come in your mouth. May I?" The inflection in his voice is almost pleading.

I nod, the thought alone sending another shiver of arousal through me. “Yes.”, I answer breathlessly, still a little hazy from my orgasm.

He pulls back entirely, his dick slipping out of my pussy. I scramble onto my knees, while he gets up from the bed, standing in front of it.

Getting off the condom quickly, his hand running up and down his length, continuing to chase his release. My spit is still on the two digits that were just inside me, now slowly coating his cock.

I press a soft kiss to the tip that is leaking precum, tasting the saltiness on my tongue. Flicking it over the piercing. My eyes pan up, searching for his, before I take him a little deeper into my mouth. Sucking on his tip while he jerks himself off. Hasty and desperate. A rumbly moan shakes his chest, his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, gonna cum.", he mutters, the words all breathy.

I hum around his dick, licking and sucking eagerly, when he spills onto my tongue and down my throat. I lick up every single drop, swallowing it all. He shakes and shivers when I don't stop sucking until he's spent.

I release him with pop, when his fingers grip my chin, and open my mouth to show him. "Good fucking girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, as I sit back on my knees. He crouches down a bit, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't say anything.

My cheeks blush red, as I remember what we talked about before. "Thank you, Sir.", I say, looking him straight into his eyes.

His answer is a deep satisfied sound, almost turning into a growl, as he leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Crawling into bed again, pulling me onto his front, until I’m strewn over him like a blanket that isn’t even big enough for the big man. He’s softly stroking my back, the touches comforting and gentle.

I push my cheek into his pecs, the hairs on his chest tickling the soft skin, and I breathe in his scent. The warm calming tone. I feel his upper body rising and sinking with every single breath of his, until we are in unison. The deep calmness almost carries me away, and I feel myself getting sleepy. I mean, we didn’t get a lot of sleep. And getting fucked liked this was tiring, although not tiresome at all.

In the silence around us, a thought of mine cuts through post-fuck haze.

“I don’t wanna go home.”, I whisper against his chest, after looking for the right words to say.

His hand stops for just a second. “Then don't.”, he answers simply, continuing his soft caresses.

I lift my head from his pec, looking at him. “Are you sure? I don't want to disturb your vacation.”, I ask.

“I'm not on vacation, I'm on leave.”, he explains. “And you're not disturbing anything.” A little reassuring smile is appearing on his lips.

“I didn’t bring much though. Not even like any more clothes.”, I say hesitatingly.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to put you in my stuff to keep you here?”, he asks, the smile widening a bit.

I laugh. “I fear, I won't fit into any of that. I mean, I think I could build a tent to sleep in from the shirts you wear.”

“That's fair.”, he grins at me, pushing my hair out of my face. And then he kisses me again, sweet and slow, until I sigh against his lips.

“You have to stop kissing me like that.”, I say, teasingly.

His smirk drops from his face. “Why?”, he asks.

“Because it makes me want to sit on your dick again.”, I jokingly confess.

He starts laughing, his whole body shaking. “That can be arranged.”, he grins at me.

“But – we can’t stay in bed the whole weekend.”, I retort.

“We can’t?”, he pipes up, his question somewhere between a pouty joke and sincere query.

I think about it for a second. “Mmh, I don’t know. Might tire you out, old man.”, I tease him, sticking my tongue out at him.

His eyes light up, all of a sudden, I get flipped, the whole world is spinning around me. He is on top of me, his weight presses me down into the mattress. His thighs spread my legs for him, his dick lying over my tummy, already hard again.

He grabs another condom. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna go through the whole packet.”, he jokes, one side of his mouth topping up in a smirk.

“Is that a challenge?”, I ask, caressing down his chest, inching in on his dick, while he is still fiddling with the rubber.

He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, stretching me out on the mattress, while I grin up at him, splayed out like that.

“If you want it to be…”, he whispers against my face, his lips kissing down to my neck while he pushes inside me.

The mug on the kitchen counter is still half full, the coffee now cold. I take a sip, relishing the milky liquid running down my throat. Sitting here at the kitchen island in just his shirt. The Dark Tranquility one he wore when we first met.

“What are you doing?”, he asks me, utterly confused, as he sees me. He put on his sweatpants again and they are as delicious as they were before. Especially in combination with his naked chest.

“Finishing my coffee.”, I explain, taking another long sip.

“But that’s… cold.”, he says, the disgust palpable.

“Yeah, I like it like that. I drink them lukewarm. At best.”, I explain, with full confidence.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.”, he sighs, then laughs, making himself another coffee. Fresh, hot and black. “One of these days, we’re gonna manage to drink the drinks at the temperature they’re so supposed to be enjoyed at.” The loud noise of the coffee maker cuts through my laughter.

“We can certainly try.”, I say, taking another sip from my blasphemous coffee.

“So, about your stuff.”, he starts, as he leans against the kitchen island. The mug in his hand is looking ridiculously small compared to him. Just like me.

“Yeah, my panties are kinda ruined now, too.” I say and shoot him a pointed look.

“I don’t have any panties that will fit you.”, he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“No shit sherlock.”, I remark sarcastically, lifting the shirt that is hanging from my shoulders. That’s almost reaching to my knees. You could fit three of me in there.

“We can go to your apartment, you can look after Mimi and get some clothes, and then come back here. It’s no big deal.”, he suggests.

I sigh. “You sure?”

He nods, just waiting for my answer patiently. While I contemplate if it was okay to stay here for longer.

“Okay, quickly, just to get some stuff.”, I agree.

When we go to leave, I notice that my shoes are neatly lined up, not at all how I left them, when I stormed into the house yesterday evening. Standing just right beside an old pair of his combat boots.

next part: painting his nails or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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princessbiteme0o0 · 4 months

Text

Just Friends, Hmm?

SMUT, SMUT, SMUT

So in other worDS MINORS D.N.I. 🔪

(Thank you @littleskeletonprincessss for the pic :) )

This is pure filth…

💫Beware💫

Description: Welcome to, I’m bored and my mind likes to run wild (a dream that I had last night). Schlatt makes my heart do the buhbump type o’ flutter (his dumbass makes me melt) so I hope you enjoy this as much as my brain enjoyed the dream.

Warnings: AHEM. SMUT… very VERY detailed smut ;)) Slight (fem pronouns, some adjectives) descriptors used, kinda Daddy kink? It’s only used a few times sooooo- but it’s HEAVILY implied.

Other than that, I’m sick and easily irritable, so if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Otherwise, hope you enjoy. (I don’t think it needs trigger warnings ((just Jay being rough)), but if you disagree lmk). Love y’all ❤️

(Updated A/N): RAAAAHHHH I AM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG- I’ve had a very rough last few days.

—💕—💕—

Schlatt should’ve known better than to cave when Ted asked for him to bring her onto the podcast. She was a fellow streamer and they hadn’t decided whether their relationship was anything real or if it was just ‘for funsies’, as she put it.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he watched her image through discord as she answered questions here and there for Ted, while he just leaned back in his chair and his eye twitched.

“So, (Y/N)… Anyone special in your life?” Ted asks, a small smirk on his lips as his eyes flashed to Schlatt’s- Ted had his suspicions, but no substantial evidence to his assumptions.

“No, not really.” She hums softly, taking a sip from her energy drink- He could use that.

“Where’s the gamer supps, (Y/N)?” His tone was stern and it made her eyes do a little flutter- that Ted definitely didn’t miss.

“Did you check up your ass and to the left?” She is quick to quip back, despite her little tumble.

“No, but would you like me to check yours?” He has an eyebrow raised in subtle warning and Ted is all grins as a warm blush raises on her cheeks.

“In your dreams, pube-cheeks.” She hisses out, glaring through the camera.

“Wanna repeat that, sweetheart?”

“Am I missing something?” Ted interjects, but she quickly composed herself and she shook her head, while Schlatt recovered from his fuming at her comment.

“Not a thing, Teddy.” She hummed, batting her eyelashes at him. The subtle flirtatious gesture did nothing but stoke the fire set on Schlatt’s ass.

“Mmh, that right, Honey?” If she was at his house right now, he’d bend her over his desk, finger fuck her until she couldn’t see straight and make her beg for him to stop. A brief silence on her end and her eyes becoming hazy for a moment was a sign that she was slipping back into submission, just at the way he spoke.

“Th-that’s right.” She tried to confidently huff out, but her voice came out shaky as she stuttered on her words. The interaction went forgotten between Ted and Tucker, but Schlatt couldn’t help but smirk each time he noticed her looking at him and adjusting herself in her seat. Once the recording for the podcast was over, Schlatt gripped his phone firmly in his hand and dialed her number.

“Jay…” Her voice whined as she answered. He let out a soft ‘tsk’, clicking his tongue before replying.

“Now, now… Is that any way to answer the phone, Toots?” He teased, making a soft whimper sound through the speaker of his phone. Chuckling softly, he leaned back in his chair.

“I’m sorry…” She mumbles softly.

“Then why don’t you come over here and show me just how sorry you are, Pumpkin?” He hums warmly, the grumble in his voice making her rub her thighs together and let out a shaky breath.

“Yes Sir…”

She doesn’t remember much of the drive to his house (obviously not, with so many distractions on her mind). Somehow, she became coherent enough to realize she was sitting in her car, staring at his house. Her heart raced in her chest, as it always did when he was involved. For the first time in a long, long time, someone made her feel special; made her want to dance in the rain, made her want to lay on a blanket and stare up at the stars. He made her want to do all of the stupid, cute shit you see in the cheesy romantic movies. He also made her melt, whether that be between her legs or her heart sat comfortably in her chest- she wanted to give him the world even though he already had it.

When she finally summoned the courage, she stepped out of her car and made her way towards his front door. Before she could even knock, the door is swung open and she’s pulled inside. The door is quickly slammed shut and she’s shoved against the wall, both hands pinned up by his right hand and his left hand resting comfortably around her throat. Her eyes closed and a smile spread across her lips at the feeling of his fingers pressed up against her soft skin.

“I don’t know what you’re smiling for, Toots.” He whispers in her ear, his mutton chops brushing against her cheek. “I never said I’d let you cum.”

“But, Jay…” She whines making him chuckle. Every sound she made and every expression that crossed her pretty little face made him fall more and more in love with her. He struggled to keep his composure for a moment, but then he lets out a soft tut.

“You made your bed, Honey… Now I’m gonna fuck you in mine.” He growls lowly, moving to quickly throw her over his shoulder. She lets out a soft squeal as he does this and she smacks his ass repeatedly as he walked towards his bedroom. She was giggling wildly as he trekked his way up the stairs and he felt his heart melt at the sound. He delivered a solid spank to her rear and she let out a soft sound somewhere between a yelp and a moan. Throwing her down on his bed, he crawled slowly and menacingly over her, his fingertips ghosting up the inside of her thighs.

“Not seeing anyone, hmm?” He asked, eyes glancing up at her as he leaned down to kiss her belly over her shirt.

“I- I’m-“ She stuttered out nervously, body trembling with every touch from him.

“What was that?” He played dumb, fingers moving further upwards and sneaking below her skirt.

“Jay I-“ She’s quickly cut off by a lewd whine when he presses his thumb firmly against her clit through her panties.

“Finish your sentence, Doll.” He hummed the demand as if it were the most simple thing to do in the world.

“P-please Jay…” She whines, hands reaching down to rush him, but the reply he growled made her retract her hands.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Yes Sir…” She mumbles and he slaps the inside of her thigh, making her repeat it more firmly to show that she understood. He pushed aside her panties and with a feather-lite touch, his fingers passed over her and he closed his eyes at the warmth while her juices already soaked his fingers. Her thighs subconsciously tried to close and as a result, he buried his teeth into her skin. She whined and thrashed beneath him as he sucked a warm, wet hickey on her inner thigh.

“You don’t seem to have such a problem with my pube-cheeks when they’re rubbing between your thighs.” He grumbled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her sensitive bud, making her mewl his name.

“Jay!” Her voice whined out, making a chuckle reverberate through his chest and the air rolled vibrations across her warm, pulsating center.

“Maybe I should call Teddy and let him hear who really makes you feel good.” He growled softly, biting the inside of her thigh.

“N-no!” She squeaked out, hands fisting into the sheets as he sucked a dark purple mark on her soft, pale skin.

“Why not? You thought it was so appropriate to flirt with him right in front of me. What? You tryin’ to make me jealous, Toots?” He hummed, eyes peering up at her. As soon as his eyes met hers from his place settled between her legs, she looked away in an attempt to hide her growing blush.

“No!” She snapped, but he could practically hear the deception in her tone.

“Surely you know better than to lie to me by now, Angel.” He spoke lowly, a growl settling in the back of his throat while he spoke. Her legs quaked and the blush on her face creeped down her neck as she slowly became more and more embarrassed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She huffed, a frown set across her lips. While she wasn’t looking, Schlatt used this opportunity to press his middle finger and his ring finger inside of her. Her facial expression twitched, but she tried to hold her guard.

“C’mon, Pumpkin… You can tell me.” He cooed, trying to coax the truth out of her by curling his fingers upwards, making her body jolt with a rush of pleasure that made her blood run hot and her heart rate jump.

“Jay… Please…” She begged softly, her legs twitching on either side of him as he continued to work his fingers.

“You make it hard to focus when you beg with such a pretty voice.” He hums, tongue flashing out to run across her pretty little flower while he worked his fingers.

“Nnhhg J-ay!” She mewled, her legs closing around his head.

“Mmh look at you, my pretty little angel… I bet Ted would just love to see your face.” The sound that came from the back of his throat when she tightened around him at the thought would’ve struck fear into the depths of her soul if it wasn’t for the amount of pure bliss coursing through her every cell. “Oh, so you like that idea, hmm? Like letting your dear, sweet Teddy know who you really belong to?” He hissed, biting down on her clit and ripping a scream from the back of her throat.

“Schlatt! Pl-please!” She had tears running down her cheeks by now as she thrashed under his hold. He was quick to wrap one of his arms under her thighs and yank her closer to him so his face is pressed so deeply into her that she couldn’t possibly escape.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled as he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his tongue.

“You, Jay! I’m all- yours!” She hiccuped out, choking on her tears.

“Louder.” He grunted into her, the vibration of his words making her legs shake and clench around his head, squeezing his cheeks.

“I belong to you…” She whispered, barely able to breathe with the sheer pleasure making her body stutter and attempt to silence her, but Schlatt would have none of that so he sucked her throbbing bud into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it as he sucked. “Daddy!”

That one word made him stop for a moment. He lifted his head just enough to stare seemingly through her soul. “What was that, Toots?” His voice was just a touch above a whisper and he held back a smirk, just staring at her. Whimpering, she shook her head as her cheeks grew an inflamed shade of red.

“N-nothing Jay.” She mumbles out, unable to make eye contact with him. He gave her absolutely soaked pussy a light slap in correction.

“None of that…” He grumbled as she whined and mewled in embarrassed pleasure beneath him. “Say it again.”

“No…” She whispered softly, rapidly shaking her head in vibrant insecurity. Growling, Jay lowered his head between her legs again in an attempt to hear the word tumble from her lips again. When he slipped his fingers into her, angling them upwards and started sucking on her clit again, her hips bucked up and pretty whines fell from her lips once more. “Please, please, oh god, please Jay, please! Please, Daddy!” She cried out and Schlatt was absolutely delighted with the arch of her back and the sound of her voice.

“That’s it… Good girl, good fucking girl.” He hummed into her and in a second her hands were buried in his hair as she twitched over and over again.

“More- I need- Nnghh-“ She choked out, tugging on his hair. Schlatt pulled away for a moment and leaned his head on her thigh, looking up at her with a dopey grin.

“What is it, Pumpkin? Tell me what you need.” He cooed, placing gentle kisses along her thigh. His sudden turn to gentle behavior made her heart melt and her composure break.

“Need you, Daddy. Need it so bad.” She whines out softly, her voice broken and desperate.

“Aww, is that right? Baby doll needs her Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is that it?” He asked while gently massaging her hips with his hands and placing warm, wet kisses across her abdomen.

“Need your cum… Please, Jay… Please?” Her request made him grind his hips against the bed. A deep rooted groan leaves him and he completely abandoned her aching cunt. Her words, her voice, her desperation, sent him into a state of pure adrenaline driven lust. Sitting back on his heels, he shoved his joggers down, making his cock bob free. He gripped her hips and yanked her towards him, curling her legs up over his shoulders and laying his body against hers. Sliding his cock deep into her, a squeak of surprised pleasure leaves her and his body twitched, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You want me to make you a mommy? Hmm? Want me to fuck a baby into you so I can see you all round and gorgeous?” She couldn’t do anything but mewl for him with the position he placed her in. He was quick to piston his hips against hers, hand squeezing between them so that his thumb could brush over her clit in tight circles.

“Yes Daddy! Yes, yes!” She nearly screamed, back arching and body shaking. Schlatt used his free hand to gently wrap around her neck, applying pressure carefully to the sides. A dark chuckle leaves his lips when he watches her eyes roll back in her head.

“Hope you’re ready, Toots… I’m not stopping until you’re so full of my cum that there’s no way you’re not pregnant.” He hums, pulling his hand from her neck to slip two fingers into her mouth. He watched and his cock twitched as she looked up at him with those big, innocent blue eyes as she sucked on his fingers and attempted to muffle her moans around them.

“Then, when I’m done with your pussy, I’m going to plug you up and make you swallow my cock. How that sound, my little Angel?” She whines and her pussy tightens as she approaches the edge. He slowed his thrusts just enough to teeter her on the edge. “Tell me who you belong to.” He grunts out between slow thrusts.

“You, Jay, you… I’m all yours- I love you.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, his thrusts pick back up, along with the movement of his hand on her clit. His lips crashed to hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth to assert his dominance, as if it wasn’t already clear enough.

“Fuck, Darlin’, I’m gonna cum.” He grumbles against her lips, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Please, please, please, please.” She chanted, nails digging into his shoulders, sure to leave marks for the next day. With a growl mixed somewhere with a groan, he shoves his cock as deep inside of her as it would go and releases. The feeling of his cum painting her walls caused a chain reaction- tears streaming down her cheeks, illegible sobbing words, her pussy clamping down so hard it nearly suffocated him and then finally, her pussy squirting and covering over his lower half, her lower half and even the sheets in her juices.

“Oh fuck, Pumpkin.” He mumbles as he tries to catch his breath. A smirk slowly inches its way across his lips and his eyes turned into a devious storm. “You made quite the mess, tsk… Let’s see if you can do it again.”

#jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff

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fordaryl · 11 days

Text

Breathe.

minors dni. spencer reid x fem!reader. angst (drowning). soft confessions. office sex.

after a brush with death, long pent-up feelings are released.

do not translate or repost.

The small disused space was busy with piled boxes, an archiving chore put aside for an unspecified future day. It made the forgotten room a perfect meeting place when the office had cleared out for the night.

You saved it only for the especially hard days.

The days you needed to see him alone.

He knocks softly, like you aren't the only two left on the floor of the building at this late hour – like he doesn't know you're waiting just for him.

You wring the hem of your cardigan in your hands as he enters, as he closes the door gently behind him and twists the small lock – just to be safe.

Then you're both still. Quiet. Waiting for the other to speak first.

Your lips part. You'd planned to be the first to speak, but instead you suck in an unsteady breath. You're not in control. Not at all.

"That bad?" he asks, taking one big but hesitant step towards you.

Bad? Bad wasn't the right word. He'd meant it like you'd had a rough day in the office. Like you could sleep it off. Like it was just another heavy case and you'd come out a little worn but soon ready for the next.

He'd died.

Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Hey," he soothes, closing the distance between you. "I'm fine, really. Coughed up a bit of pool water, that's all. I've got the all clear," he offers you a lopsided smirk, "despite how bacteria ridden the average chlorinated pool is. I don't recommend drinking the water. If you can help it."

You blink up at him as one tear breaks free, spilling over your lower lid and down your cheek.

A complete lack of any minds eye spared you from the image of him laid out on the cold tiles — soaking wet and completely still.

Aphantasia, he'd explained to you one day a few months earlier. A woefully understudied characteristic of some people that meant an inability to visualise.

You've never been more grateful for your deficiency. It was different for him; his memories. Spencer could see them all. You often wondered how he coped.

"You drowned," you whisper into the dark room. "You were dead."

"My heart never stopped, I–"

"Spencer," you interrupt, heart racing. "You weren't breathing. You were so still and I thought I wouldn't—"

"You saved me," he says softly. "I'm okay." He reaches up to your temple and ever so gently brushes some of your hair off your forehead. It's a completely pointless gesture, apart from being the final straw, that is.

The dam bursts as his finger brushes your skin, feather-light. "I can't do it," you gasp. "I can't. I can't do it."

"Please. Please, don't cry." He pulls you against him. "I hate when you cry."

You bury your face in his neck, wetting his warm skin with fresh tears.

"You won't have to do it ever again," he says, misunderstanding your meaning entirely. "No bodies of water for me, promise."

You shake your head, too busy choking on tears to verbally correct him.

"Everything's fine," he soothes. "Ple-ase." The last word comes out a little broken, a crack in his voice splintering the vowels in the middle.

You pull back from him, enough to look up into his sad eyes. "I didn't mean... I mean't..."

His thumbs wipe at your cheeks.

You suck in a shaky breath. "I mean't... I can't feel all this anymore. I'm so afraid." Another shaky inhale. "Every day. Anytime you aren't near me..."

His hands drop from your face. Confused. This was his confused face. He was attempting to interpret.

"I can't make it go away," you whisper. "I love- I love you and every day you might..." He's blinking at you, a lock of wavy hair falling over one of his eyes. You need him to speak now, take some of the weight off you. You're so tired. "I'm afraid," you confess again. "You can't do that again. Please. You can't–"

"You love me?"

You pause, processing his simple words. Then, "You didn't know?"

He blinks. Again, "You... You love me?"

"Yes," you breathe. A release. "Of course. I'm in love with you. I thought you... how could you not know? I—"

"You've never told me."

He says it simply. Like that's the only way he could possibly have known. You didn't tell him, therefore how could he ever interpret your blatant lovesick adoration as anything other than friendly consideration.

Everyone else knew. The entire team had known about your crush from the earliest days. Some of them had known before you had figured it out yourself.

But not him. Apparently.

"I'm sorry," is what you find yourself saying, eyes burning again. You drop your eyes to the floor. "I'd really.... I'd like to stay friends. Please." You pick at a loose thread in your cardigan, a consequence of your nervous habit. "I need you, I think. I think I need you."

Every move he makes after the last word of your confession leaves your lips is incredibly delicate; he's slow and almost cautious as he hooks his fingers under your chin.

He looks sad when your eyes meet his. He's doing that thing that always leave your chest aching. They're big and dark and so, so full of feeling. "Don't cry," he whispers again.

You nod, like you have any control at all. Anything to stop the sad eyes.

Then he's leaning down. His lips ghost against your cheek, just enough to collect a tear. Then the other cheek. Just a brush of soft lips to wet skin. Then he's ghosting over your lips. His final word is so quiet you almost miss it. It's so quiet you aren't entirely sure he meant it for your ears at all.

"Please."

His lips are wet against yours when he finally closes that tiny little gap. It's too much for your entirely overwhelmed and exhausted mind to process properly. Your fingers drop the hem of your cardigan, suddenly lax and completely free of any responsibility.

His hand rests at your lower back. You're grateful for the support, for the grounding. You're not entirely sure that you'd stay standing otherwise.

He's kissing you. Which means... something. It means something that you'll spend many hours thinking about... some other time. Some time when he's not kissing you. Right now, right now you think you'll just think about the way he feels. Or maybe the tiny sound he makes when he steps into you, like he can somehow get closer. Like you weren't sharing a single breath.

You're half convinced you might wake at any moment. Like this might be some fucked up dream your brain has concocted to contrast the cold kiss you'd been forced to share hours earlier as you'd forced oxygen into his lungs.

No.

No, he's too real; too warm and solid. He presses you against the edge of the desk. It cuts into the backs of your thighs.

You're awake.

He releases your lips only to pull you firmly against him, his arms wrapping around you tight. It's a desperate sort of hug. One you might give a loved one after a long separation... or a close call.

You lift your arms to join him, to add an extra layer of security to the embrace—lest someone try and pull you apart.

His lips press into your neck as he buries his face into you. Closer, the action screams. You understand the feeling entirely.

"You love me, too?" you mumble against his skin.

His head moves as he hums. Yes. He loves you.

He loves you.

You grasp at his shirt, the stiff fabric of the dress shirt crumpling in your fingers as you attempt to get a firm hold. You just think you've managed a secure grip when he's tugging you back and pressing his lips to yours again.

It's different this time. Desperate. You understand that, too. Desperate is disorganised. Desperate is irrational. Desperate is messy.

Messy is fine.

Messy is wet kisses and marks on your neck. Messy is the noise the lamp makes when it hits the floor. Messy is the way his hands tug at your cardigan and grip your thighs when he finally has them bare.

Messy is nice.

He's halfway over you eventually, using the desk to lay you out beneath him. "This okay?" he gasps between kisses. "You're okay?"

"Mm," you hum into his mouth. "Yeah. Yeah. I love you."

His lips leave yours in a lingering sort of way, like neither of you are willingly to release the other. But still, he manages it. "We shouldn't do this here," he says, a little breathless. His fingers press into your thighs as he says it.

"But I want to."

He looks at you like he's calculating, interpreting. You know you must look a mess. Your lips feel a little tingly with the nips he's given you. That's something you didn't expect from him. You'd always imagined his kisses to be gentle—sweet and soft.

His eyes drop to your lips like he's heard your thoughts. "Yeah?" he breathes. "You really... you really want to?"

"Please."

His jaw clenches once before he's falling over you, his body weight pressing you into the wood beneath you.

His lips brush against your neck when he speaks next. "Anything you want," he mutters as his fingers trace up your inner thigh.

By the time he finally presses himself inside you, you're on the brink of tears again. You're lost, you realise as he whimpers into your neck. Everything depends on him. You may as well crawl into his chest and make a home there. You're reliant on his survival in the same way you're reliant on your own heart beating.

He whimpers again as you clench around him. "Please," he gasps on an uneven breath. You're not sure what he's asking for. You curl your fingers in his hair. He could be asking for anything at all and you're sure you'd give it to him. Anything at all.

#spencer reid x reader #mine: spencer reid

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 7 months

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

Pairing: Nanami Kento x GN!Reader

Summary: Nanami always prided himself on being the responsible adult (though that was easy when he was compared to Gojo). He always put others before himself, especially his young pupils. But sometimes you just need to let your burdens fall away, and you have just the thing.

A/N: Nanami has been through the wringer the last few episodes and I AM NOT HERE FOR IT. This poor man deserves a break. He deserves the world. Sorry smut lovers, this is pure fluff.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Kento was always one to put others before himself. Always acted as the adult for the children he was tasked to instruct because he had to be. Because all the young students shouldn’t have to carry the burdens he shouldered, they deserved to be what they are; kids.

But when you carry the weight of the world, even if you are one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers of the modern age, that weight gets overwhelming before long.

But you continue to carry it if you must, lest you sacrifice some of the weight to the people who don’t deserve it. You carry it until it becomes second nature, a lingering thought in the back of your mind. Because you carry it until you get tired, and continue until you forget to feel tired at all because it's all you know.

That was who Kento was. Even if he pretended to be otherwise, pretended that he didn’t care, he did deep down. He steals away your burdens before you realize they’re even there, just because he can. It’s why his pupils can breathe a little easier, if only slightly. Why they can laugh a little louder, still with the bright eyes only youth can bring.

But you knew better. You knew him better than anyone else in this world, and you recognized when those burdens weighed a little too much.

It’s why when he returned home to you today, you pressed your lips to his as you always did before pushing him into the washroom to wash up. A pair of comfy pyjamas lay in his line of sight when he emerged, a puzzle by its side.

It was one of his guilty pleasures, you had learned a few months into dating him. Others might think it boring compared to other things you can do in your spare time, but he loved them. Said he loved the way there was a place for every piece, you just had to find it. He created an image with his bare hands when so often he was cutting things down, it was a nice switch-up.

When he explained this to you, his eyes sparkled with that childlike glow so many adults lose over the years. It was so endearing you couldn’t help the small giggle that emerged, and for a brief moment, a flash of panic appeared in those sharp eyes of his. ‘He wasn’t that boring’ he had promised, but you waved him off. You could never find him boring.

When he reemerged from your shared bedroom he pressed a kiss to your forehead before situating himself at the dining table, a small but excited smile on his face as he poured the pieces out.

You watched Kento from the kitchen with a soft gaze in your eyes, hands idly mixing the contents of the bowl in your hands.

For a while, it was just that, you making dinner in the kitchen as he did his puzzle, one of your playlists playing softly from the speakers in the background. Periodically you would glance away to focus on what you were doing, but your eyes never strayed from his form for long.

He looked so at peace. Like all his troubles, all the weight he carried on his shoulders had been forgotten, at least for a little while. The inner child he had shoved so far down to make room for the responsible adult he had to be making its appearance.

You couldn’t help the swell of your heart as he was lost in his own world, so much so that you dropped what you were doing before making your way over to his side.

He glances up at you with a soft smile, and you lean down to press your lips to his forehead before sitting down next to him, settling into his side. Subconsciously he leans into your touch as he lets out a shuddering exhale, his fingers still putting the little pieces in place.

For a moment you just sit there, the only sound being the shuffling of puzzle pieces as he searches for the gaps and music in the background. That is until he exhales through his nose softly.

“With everything that has been happening lately, I think I’ve forgotten how nice it is to just…exist,” he says, and you smile at him sadly.

“I know,” you say in turn. That’s all you needed to say really, because you both knew how each other felt without having to say words.

The music pauses for a moment as it transitions into the next song before a familiar intro begins to play. The first song you both danced to on your wedding day. Immediately your eyes light up, and for a moment all Kento can admire is that childlike glow that matches his own in this moment.

“Dance with me?” you say with a wide grin, leaping to your feet as you hold out your hand. Your grin is contagious because he can’t help the smile that comes across his own face as he takes your hand in his.

“Always,” he says, before leading you further into the living room where there’s a little more space.

You both try to remember the choreography that went along with the song, a few mishaps along the way before you fall into the familiar rhythm.

That is until a twirl goes wrong and you feel yourself tripping over your own feet before you start to fall. Apparently, you were set on Kento coming down with you as your iron grip holds onto his arm and he comes tumbling down as well. He’s in control enough to orient the two of you so he was on the bottom, acting like a makeshift pillow but you both still crash to the ground with a loud thud.

For a moment you just blink at each other before you burst out into laughter, clutching onto his chest as you laugh unabashedly. He can’t help but chuckle along before pulling you into a tight hug, warm arms comforting and familiar around you.

“Thank you for this,” he whispers quietly into your hair once the laughter dies down into a comforting silence.

“Always,” you say in turn, before pressing your lips to his.

A/N: Based on a prompt I saw in a tiktok comment. I love this man so much, so I hope you enjoyed this bit of softness because Nanami stans are going through it rn.

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami my beloved #kento nanami #jjk kento #kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk #jjk x reader

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not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years

Note

I want to ruin my life and throw myself into an arc so uhh

Can i request class 1-A but like outcast reader? Angsty yk where theyre always dismissed in training and forgotten

Oooo I like this one lmfao I want so desperately to make reader this feral little cicin mage like from genshin 😭 buts gonna be gn

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <3

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 1-𝐀 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚��𝐝 𝐁𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

Aizawa was starting to become a little worried about you. He had been so busy with Shinsou and his problem children to focus much attention and direction to the rest of the class. Every time he would try to work on it, yet another calamity would occur and force his attention back on the main parties.

He was working on this little flaw of his, continuously checking in with and directing the others during training period. He never got to help you, though. It seemed that whenever he would look for you, you would drop from the face of the earth.

You were avoiding him.

You would sit on your lonesome in class and at lunch, with your head kept down. He's never once seen you exchange small talk. In all honesty, he's less worried about your physical capabilities, and more worried about your mental state. He has a bad feeling.

In reality, you just hated this class. Every day, someone would open their big, ugly mouth and out came nonsense that further convinced you of how undeserving they were of being at the top. You were only here because you were recommended. Your quirk isn't nearly as powerful or flashy, either. Why does everyone else get all the attention when all they do is fuck up and ruin everything?!

All of this comes to light during the next sparring period. You were towing on the edge of keeping up with one of the class' best, until you were unexpectedly knocked down. That was your last straw. How fucking dare he?

You were suffering a humiliating defeat as you sit on your knees on the floor, staring into the distance without focus, until your sight was infiltrated by the image of Midoriya. You hate that stupid brat. The hatred in your veins is only fuelled when he offers a hand to you and a pathetic smile.

Within a second, his hand is slapped away and the room goes silent.

"Get the fuck away from me. Fuck you."

The bite of your words is only dulled by the waver of your voice, and the tears in your eyes. Izuku is stunned, as is the rest of the class. Even Katsuki thinks you're overreacting. Kirishima steps in with a frown. "Hey, man... That wasn't cool-"

He's interrupted when you turn around and walk away, brimming with anger and frustration. How is he so much better than you?! You train every day and constantly home your skills, so how did he beat you faster than you could blink?

Maybe you were being a little horrible, but you've never learned how to offset your anger in healthier ways, so for now, you're happy taking it out on others.

Are you really that weak? Maybe, after everything, you're the one who doesn't deserve to be here...

How come they could always be nice to eachother, but they could never talk to you? Why were you ignored or given strange looks when you tried to open up? How come noone wanted to be your friend?

Aizawa, of course, figured you might react in such a way. Loneliness can easily turn into bitterness if you take your eye off it for too long. He needs to help you fix this.

He wants to keep everyone in this class for as long as he possibly can, and allowing you to exclude yourself any more than you have would be dangerous for everyone, including you.

It's with that, that he starts putting people in pairs for everything. He would force you to socialise if it was the last thing he did.

Every day you would argue with your pair, but it was worth it, because when you were offered kindness or compassion, no matter how reluctant you were to accept it, he could see that little spark in your eye. It was the kind of spark that made him aware of your guard dropping. You were actually starting to care about your classmates.

Obviously Toshinori immediately knew what he was doing when he saw Aizawa put you in a group of three since the class was uneven on a specific day, and he would offer up a smirk and subtle glance as if to say "wow, you finally got through to them".

He supposed that it's not your fault you don't know how to cope with your... Emotional baggage, much like Shouto or Katsuki, but he likes to make you very much aware that it's your responsibility to learn how.

When the day comes that you finally think to apologise to Izuku, the boy you've grown an annoying fondness for, he actually starts to cry. He's so proud of you for not staying emotionally constipated like Katsuki, that he actually floods the room and Aizawa has to open the window for him to violently sob out of so that the entire class doesn't drown.

Slowly, you start to grow a kinship with a few people in your class, and you grow especially close with your bubblegum haired friend Mina, and Jirou, who liked to do her part by teasing you out of your shell. Maybe, you could even learn what it's like to love and be loved back.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #aizawa x reader #class 1a x male reader #class 1a x reader #1a x gn reader #1a x fem reader #bnha x fem!reader #bnha x gn!reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader angst #mha x reader angst

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cherienymphe · 9 months

Text

One Year Later (What He Doesn't Know Drabble)

You checked in on your son one last time before quietly exiting the bedroom. He was just starting to sleep through the night, resting peacefully in his crib, and so used to waking up with him in the early hours of the morning, you now found yourself evaded by sleep. You smiled at the thought of him, holding back a small laugh.

He was born healthy and hearty, and Enola’s prediction of a boy had turned out to be right. He was so lively and curious, and so wrapped up in all that came with motherhood, Mycroft’s prolonged absences bothered you none. The dark-haired man could have an entire second family, and you would care none. Although, you knew he was simply tied up with business and politics, but your marriage had never felt like such almost since the beginning.

There were times if you wondered if you would feel relieved at the knowledge that someone else occupied your husband’s attention, allowing more room for you to breathe and be with your son. You imagined that you would, and you could only imagine how Mycroft would feel, how odd he would find your reaction, but fearing the man for years almost had you wishing he would take on some mistress or two. God knows he had the free time…

His lack of interest in your son bothered you more than you thought it would. After all, it only confirmed your suspicions that Mycroft simply cared for appearance and status, and how a wife and child merely bolstered his image. There was never any genuine desire for a wife and family as people to love, and that fact both saddened and angered you.

…because it meant that you were living in torment all this time for nothing.

As much as you feared and despised your husband, you had hoped that something at the end of the tunnel would make this all worth it. The abuse, the abandonment…Sherlock, but your husband had about as much interest in your pregnancy as Enola did in rouge. It should not have come as a shock that his brother, the imposing detective, had stuck by your side more than your own husband.

After all…your son did belong to the youngest brother.

The timeline matched, and Mycroft—so neglectful—took no notice to the birth being off by a month. You noticed though…and so did Sherlock, the burly man holding your son with so much care the moment the midwife had invited everyone into the room. You had carefully avoided his gaze, heart racing because as much as you came to accept there was nothing you could do against Sherlock’s desire to have you any chance he saw fit, he still terrified you greatly.

More than Mycroft in some ways.

It was why you let out a small shriek at the sight of said man when you turned in the kitchen. He was as calm and collected as ever—an infuriating trait of his—while you had to press your hand to your chest just to calm your heart. He was dressed down, and as you stared at him, you did recall the housekeeper mentioning something about Sherlock arriving in town soon.

You liked to keep your tormentor out of your head as much as possible, so it was no wonder you had forgotten.

“Sherlock,” you finally breathed, swallowing and turning away. “I did not know you had arrived.”

You were busying yourself with fixing something to eat, debating on whether to put on some tea. The kitchen was silent for what felt like too long, and you felt…hot under the scrutiny of his observant gaze. You always felt this way when he was around, and you knocked a few things over here and there as you fought to remain steady.

“Only some hours ago,” he finally replied, his soft baritone filling the room. “You were asleep then when I checked in on you.”

You froze at that, uncomfortable with the thought of Sherlock hovering over you and staring down at you as you slept…none the wiser. You struggled to swallow, nodding to yourself as you continued to move about the kitchen. Your brother-in-law said nothing, but you knew that he had not left. His presence was enough to fill up a whole house, let alone one small room.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you put the kettle on…watching it with pursed lips…

…and that was when you felt it.

For someone of his size, Sherlocked moved so silently—stealthily, and you flinched when you felt his chest graze your back. His body heat seemed to have surrounded you, enveloping you like a warm and suffocating blanket, and you swiped your tongue between your lips. Neither of you said a word, but you did both feel and hear him let out a soft chuckle, and you knew why. The sight of you trying to ignore this imposing and obvious man must have been a comical one.

“He is getting so big,” he hummed, and you shrank in on yourself when you felt his hand find a home on your waist. “…and so handsome.”

You didn’t respond.

“He will be very pretty to look at, I am sure,” you felt him lean in, soft lips grazing your ear. “Just like his mother.”

“Sherlock,” you murmured in warning, attempting to step away.

The other man tightened his hold on your waist, keeping you in place, and you sharply inhaled at the sudden display of strength.

“I have missed you,” he whispered.

“The housekeeper-.”

“Is fast asleep,” he cut you off. “…and your husband is cities away…leaving you all alone and neglected yet again.”

You felt your stomach tighten for so many reasons, and the main one forced a tear to escape your eye, Sherlock slithering his other hand up your body and snaking it around your neck. He forced you to lean back some, completely resting against him, and your lashes fluttered at the soft graze of his teeth against your cheek.

“I want to try for a daughter this time,” he told you, making you grip the counter. “…but mommy and her boys does have a nice ring to it.”

#drabbles

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telvess · 8 months

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RoR: Morning with them (Hermes, Hades, Qin) 🔞

I've finally defeated my writer's block, at least a bit. And I swear I wanted to write something fluffy. Then why - for the Helheim sake - I ended up writing NSFW context again…?

Hermes

You were wakened by a morning sunlight. You opened your eyes and immediately regretted it, covering your head with the pillow to find relief in the partial darkness. The empty space next to you - where your hand expected to find Hermes - alarmed you, so you forced yourself to peek again. The feeling of disappointment woke you up completely. — Why are you leaving so early? — you mumbled, seeing him getting ready in front of the mirror. He was putting on a shirt, so for the last seconds you could see his naked back, which you had kissed many times last night. — Duty calls. — You’re god, you know? — you jumped out of the bed and hugged him from behind — You have the right to take the day off! Even as you interfered, Hermes buttoned his dress shirt. — I’m afraid the gods don’t have that privilege. — Really? — you sighed into his back — Even we, humans, figured that out! You saw his reflection in the mirror smiling at you. After the shirt, the time had come for a tie. — Let me — you offered help. Without a word, Hermes handed you the tie, and as you placed it around his neck, you felt his eyes on you. Since you were standing naked in front of him, your cheeks suddenly felt warm, and the situation didn't get any better as you remembered what happened last night. — Is everything okay? — Yes — you replied, however you didn’t have enough courage to look up. Otherwise, you would have notice Hermes’ mischievous expression, because - as always - he knew exactly what was going on in your mind. As you were tying a tie, Hermes’ hands appeared on your waist. He was already wearing white gloves and was now caressing your skin with the soft fabric. As his touch was leaving burning trace on your bare skin, your sensitive body slowly began to wake up. Hermes moved his hands to your back, where he raised them along your spine to reach your shoulders, neck and finally your jawline. You bit your lower lip and without second thought, you let your hands slide over Hermes’ collar to touch his neck with trembling fingers. — Patient, silly goose — his calm voice brought you back to reality — Tonight you gonna untie that tie as well. Your eyes met his. Hermes seemed amused by your confusion, but beside that you didn’t notice any sign of lying. — Will you leave that early the next morning too? — you asked. Then, to your surprise, Hermes just leaned towards you. Your lips moved instinctively as he approached closer to yours, meeting in a deep, promising kiss. Every time Hermes and you shared an intimacy moment, you slowly lost yourself in his firm hug and skilled tongue, but over time you started to realize that he was the one who was overcome with passion much more than one would expect. As if his perfect, unshakable image had loosened slightly, as if Hermes had finally forgotten himself in the endless years of tasks assigned by Zeus. Then again, something - perhaps his divine control or just aversion to being late - forced him to stop. Hermes was the first to regain absolute control over himself. The only things that gave him away was his rapid breathing and the messy hair you gave him, which was also taken care of very quickly. — Yes — he answered, calmly. It took you a moment to remember what you had asked him, and once you did, a groan of disappointed escaped your lips — However, tomorrow we will wake up much earlier. You smiled at the hidden promise in his words. Hermes checked himself in the mirror one last time before touching your jaw again and forcing you to look into his eyes. — That’s a good knot. Thank you.

Hades

You were lying partially on Hades’ chest and were leaving a trails of small kisses on his exposed skin. Some time ago, a faint light started to seep through the curtains, but you were already awake. Watching Hades sleep was something you never expected to do and you really hoped now that it wasn't a dream. As you left another kiss, you saw how Hades’ head moved slightly. — Oh? — he looked so adorable: sleepy eyes, messy hair and a very lazy smile. You felt so lucky that you had witnessed this side of the king of the Underworld. — Good morning — you smiled back. — Morning, my queen — Hades ran his fingers through his hair, making them even more dishevelled. — Did you sleep well? — you asked, trying really hard to hide your laugh. — Yes, but it doesn't compare to the awakening. Hearing this made you want to kiss him again, but now your fingers also explored his skin, following a track of his sculpted muscles. — Well… I didn’t mean to wake you up… — you kissed him again — It’s just… — and again, — … you teased me. — Oh, really? — Hades grabbed you with his large arms and rolled over with you, so that you were now underneath him. You laughed at the sudden change. For a moment he just looked at you without any particular expression, and then he leaned towards your neck, where he placed a very gentle kiss. His warm breath on your skin, especially on that sensitive spot he found out about last night, made you moan. Hades lifted his head just for a moment to show you his triumphant smile before returning to leave more kisses just below your ear. — You are… aah-h… so… You couldn’t control your body anymore, but was that a reason to be angry? Because you felt so good right now as Hades continued his journey down your chest to your breasts. You ignored weak resistance of your pride and closed your eyes, enjoying the moment. Hades’ lips around your nipples sent shivers your lower parts and as he licked and sucked on them, more moans escaped your lips. You grabbed his hair and arched your back in a fit of passion. — Now, now, who’s the teaser here… — you heard his quiet, deep voice. — Hades… His lips were replaced by his hands now, which slowly massaged your breasts, and Hades' fingers poked your nipples from time to time. — Just look at you — he said slowly — Very naked and very… mine. You couldn’t help but smiled. You opened eyes just to find him watching you. He reached for your head to brushed your hair behind your ear. — I didn’t know you’re such tamer. Hades laughed, his finger was curling your strand of hair. — I didn’t know that either. Looks like you drew it out of me. — Oh, so now it’s my fault? — Well… — he pinched your cheek — What can I say, that’s your charm, dear. You giggled. — Woah, quality save. Hades leaned towards your lips, but stopped an inch before he reached them. — You know, y/n… — he whispered — I'm not a morning person, but you're on your way to changing that. — You seem to have a lot of energy, my king. — And even more ideas on how to use it. Hades wasn’t lying, he had plenty of them.

Qin Shi Huang

You were a light sleeper, so when Qin sat at the edge of the bed, your eyes immediately opened. — Don’t go! — you muttered, and in a sudden burst of desperation, you clutched to Qin’s back and wrapped your arms and legs around his waist like little child. — I’m expected to, my sweet lady — said Qin, but his tone indicated he was open to conviction. — Yesterday you said that you expected your empress to speak loudly about her needs! — you remained — And today I expect you to stay and entertain me! You left a few kisses on his centipede tattoo that ran down his back and smiled in satisfaction as you felt Qin’s body tremble. You pretended to shudder with the cold. — Ugh! I’m so cold! Qin froze for a moment, the sculpted muscles on his back flexed and then before you could blink, he turned around and gently pushed you onto your back. — Cold? — said Qin, outraged — In the presence of the emperor? Unforgivable! Then he lay down close by and he whispered with a smile: — I will handle this matter myself. You giggled as he covered both of you with the duvet, and then pulled you into his chest. He held you tightly in embrace, with his face buried in your hair you felt his warm breath on your neck. — You smell nice — his words made you blush. You started massaging Qin’s muscular arm, feeling his bare skin with your fingers and listening to his slow breathing made your body completely relaxed, to the point where you had to fight with yourself to not fall asleep again. — Qin… — you mumbled. — Yes? — I’m sleepy… — That’s good to hear. You frowned but didn’t open your eyes. — No! I don’t want to sleep again because… because I hate waking up alone! You felt his grip tighten, and then his lips whispered next to your ear: — I’m never too far away. You opened you mouth and closed it almost immediately, feeling ashamed of yourself. — Well… You’re right — you said and sat straight— You have your responsibilities. You should go. — Oh? — you couldn’t help but smile at his disappointed reaction — The duties are where I am! Your attempt of withhold a laugh was mediocre, and soon the huge bedroom you shared was filled with loud laugher from both of you. Qin grabbed your arm and forced you to lie down next to him. — Here I thought I'd rest a little longer… — he sighed. — Oh, so you tried to use me as an excuse then! Qin presented you his false smile that he usually gives to unwanted advisors, and you stuck your tongue out at him in the response, then grabbed his cheek and moved his head towards you, so you could place a kiss on his lips. His hand appeared on your back almost immediately and the other one hid itself in you hair, pulling you closer to his warm body. — It seems you have a new reason to stay — you said once you stopped kissing and looked at the bulge in his pants. — Yes, and it requires an immediate solution. Qin touched your jaw and turned your face towards him. You could drown in his pure, innocence eyes, even now, when he had such dirty thoughts. You giggled, feeling sudden surge of shyness. Qin smacked his lips. — You shouldn’t make emperor wait.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #snv x reader #ror hades #ror hermes #ror qin shi huang #ror hermes x reader #ror hades x reader #ror qin shi huang x reader #snv hades x reader #snv hermes x reader #snv qin shi huang x reader #udj

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blurredcolour · 4 months

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IV. “I Trust You Know What You’re Doing?”

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

Struggling with the forced separation of your transfer and promotion, it does not take long for you and Bucky to plan a trip to London together. But even while you're on leave, the world around you continues to do its best to tear itself apart.

Warnings: Language, Grief, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral - f receiving, implied virginity loss, protected vaginal sex, condoms, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Welcome to this massive installment. I have no excuses, only apologies. Also I only had the fortitude to proof this once, there may be more errors than normal, but I didn't want to delay it any longer - I will correct things as I find them. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

ETA: The image descriptions for the letters contain the text within to allow for a screen reader or anyone who cannot read cursive. Click the ‘ALT’ button to access.

Word Count: 8497

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Wycombe Abbey could not have been more different than Thorpe Abbotts if it had tried.

The private, or in a most confusing twist ‘public’ as the Brits called such institutions, girls’ school had begun its life in the 17th century as a manor house before being transformed into a much grander residence near the end of the 19th century. The school had opened in 1896 with only forty students, but that number had swelled to over two hundred by the time the building was requisitioned for use as the Headquarters of the 8th Air Force.

Stained glass windows, stonework, archways, and wood panelling now replaced squat concrete buildings and rough-and-ready Nissen huts. Though everything was just as drafty, so at least the temperature provided some familiar consistency to your new surroundings. As you descended from your quarters tucked away in some forgotten corner of the attic, down a set of precarious servants’ stairs, you nearly took a wrong turn – again. To your credit you had only been here three days and the maze of corridors and rooms further divided into offices for USAAF purposes was nearly unnavigable.

Chiding yourself softly under your breath that your office was to the right and not the left, as though the sharpness of your tone might really drive it home this time, you quickened your steps still hoping to beat to postal clerk to the outgoing mail box that sat on the corner of your desk. It had been more of a challenge than you were expecting to write the letter clutched in your hand, but the daily meetings that senior operations officers held at 1015, 1600, and 2200 were your responsibility to attend and record via frantically scribbled notes to be typed up in a more professional format later.

These were the meetings at which mission targets for the entire 8th were chosen. The strategic value of various locations was discussed alongside weather reports and aligning with the RAF’s Bomber Command for maximum impact against Nazi Germany. After the first meeting, it would be decided if a mission would even be conducted the following day, and each Division, Wing, and Base involved would be put on alert to allow them time to begin planning the operation. By the time the last meeting ended, the target and approach would be finalized, and the official field orders would be issued.

It made for a remarkably long day, even with breaks for meals, and though you were guaranteed every other Friday off because of this, by the time you crawled into bed near midnight, you only had enough energy to add a few lines onto the letter you had begun to Bucky as soon as you arrived. It made for a rather disjointed and rambling piece of correspondence, in your opinion, but you could not bear to keep him waiting any longer – not wanting him to assume you had forgotten to write and not knowing how long the thing would take to reach him regardless.

Dashing into the office you shared with Myrtle, a very stoic young woman with dark hair and thick eyelashes from Rhode Island, you exhaled in relief to see the post still waiting to be collected and added your letter to the pile. Unlocking your desk drawers, you began setting up for the day, hoping it would reach him quickly.

His reply arrived in your inbox just over two weeks later, near the end of September. Sliding it into your brown leather utility bag, you did your utmost to ignore its very existence throughout the first daily meeting, and your subsequent production of the official report thereof. Taking your lunch break a little earlier than usual paid off in that the line was much shorter at that time. You inhaled the mystery stew and rolls, hardly tasting them, before taking your letter outside to read in the rare afternoon sunshine.

It was short, and it was unspeakably adorable that Bucky did not write in cursive, but there was no lack of his personality in his response. It was as though the very essence of him had been distilled into the ink itself and you could not help the broad grin that bore its way into the muscles of your cheeks, making them ache as you read it.

Glancing quickly at your watch, you realized there was still time to send a reply before the second post pick-up but based on the length of time it had taken for this exchange of letters, it was unlikely another would reach him with enough time to plan for October 8 – your next Friday off. Worrying your lip between your teeth as you considered your options, you landed on a rather devious idea, one that quite honestly would have never come to you if not for the deep need to reach Bucky immediately. Vi had a telephone on her desk in the weather office, a number that you had access to given the strategic importance of weather to the senior operations officers.

Myrtle would be on her break for another fifteen minutes…you had not even realized you had made up your mind before your feet began to carry you back inside, up the stairs into the mercifully still-empty office. Digging out the directory, you found the number for Thorpe Abbotts’ weather office and took a shaky breath as you sank into your chair.

‘Keep it brief, keep it free of classified information. Worst you’ll get is a reprimand.’

The devious, deceptive voice in your mind was a new one, fostered, perhaps, by the rather carefree man you found yourself deeply entangled with, but it was not one you were about to disobey. Lifting the handset of your phone from its cradle, you cleared your throat as the operator answered.

“Norfolk 7315, please.” You tried your best to sound calm and collected as the line clicked and began to ring.

“Phillips.” An unexpected voice answered, and you gulped, knowing Ruth would be less likely to participate in some romantic scheme.

You greeted her in kind, trying to ignore the ache of loneliness as she gasped softly.

“I was hoping you might pass along a message for me?”

“To a certain Major?” You could hear the grin in her voice and felt the pressure on your chest ease.

“Indeed. October 8. I will arrange accommodations.”

“Your line should he need to reach you?”

Hesitating a moment, you ultimately decided to provide it as well, wanting to ensure he could in fact contact you if something came up. Or perhaps any of them could – should the worst happen.

‘Don’t think about that.’ You chastised yourself internally.

“You’re well?” Ruth asked and you smiled softly.

“I am, please tell everyone I miss them terribly.”

“Will do, have to go.”

There was a ‘click’ as she hung up and the line went dead but the lightness in your heart could not be extinguished.

Nine days later you found yourself waiting on the platform at Liverpool Street station awaiting the arrival of Bucky’s train from East Anglia. Given the proximity of High Wycombe to London, you had arrived much earlier that morning and checked into the hotel already, dropping off your small bag and come to wait for his train – well you assumed he’d be on the first train of the day, but as the carriages disgorged a sea of humanity and you had yet to spot him, your brows began to furrow in doubt.

You were about to fish the folded schedule you had picked up from the ticket counter to check the next arrival time when he was suddenly wrapping an arm around you, pulling you tight into his chest as you gasped softly in surprise.

“There you are doll.” Bucky sighed, dropping his bag at your feet to slide the other arm around you as he pulled back to nudge your cap out of the way and deliver a breathtakingly thorough kiss that you were not entirely sure was appropriate for the public setting you were in.

Not that you stopped him, you own arms snaking about his midsection to cling to him tightly.

Pulling back, his eyes raked over your features lovingly as you both inhaled deeply to fill your greedy lungs.

“Well, well 1st Lieutenant.” He smirked proudly as he lifted his hand to stroke the chrome insignia you now wore on your lapels courtesy of your promotion, leaving smudges of his thumb print.

“You are leaving my uniform in disarray, Major.” You chided playfully, unable to hold back you grin, even for a moment, to sell the joke.

His forefinger hooked behind the knot in your tie, tugging it out from beneath your jacket and pulling you closer – eliminating the last few inches of space that remained between your bodies.

“Good.” He rumbled against your lips before kissing you deeply, severely undermining the infrastructure of your knees.

The loud racket of the train cars as they shunted into one another jolted the pair of you apart, making you realize you were among the last few remaining on the platform as the now empty train left the station.

“Let’s get you checked in and your bag dropped off.” You murmured, clearing your throat as you unbuttoned your uniform jacket to straighten and re-secure your tie.

His hand slid into yours as the pair of you made your way out of the station and he happily followed you to a hotel you’d found near his station, knowing that he’d be here longer than you and it would be easier for him to find his way back to base this way. Sitting patiently in the lobby as he checked in and ran his bag up, you smiled as he returned to hold his hands out to you.

“C’mon doll, I have a whole plan.”

Taking his hands, you rose to your feet, raising your eyebrows curiously. “A whole plan?”

He leaned in to murmur against your ear, “you’re not the only one involved in planning you know.”

You pulled back quickly, eyes wide with a touch of panic. You were quite certain you had never told him just what your new position entailed, and there was no way he could simply guess it.

“Easy doll, your phone line.” He winked as he maneuvered your arm through his, turning to lead you out the front door.

Slowly exhaling, it clicked into place. Of course. Just as you were able to find Vi’s desk number in a directory, it seemed Bucky had been doing a little research of his own.

“Well, shhh.” You chastened him firmly, laying a finger over your lips, looking very much like an anti-slander campaign poster.

His hearty laugh in response did little to convince you that he took in the message.

“Now, how do we get to Hyde Park…” He murmured, pulling a crumpled leave guide out of his pocket.

“The underground.” You answered easily, leading him back towards the very station he had arrived at but this time down to the tube station entrance where the pair of you purchased your tickets.

His touch rarely left you – even if he was forced to release your hand, you could feel his palm pressed against your lower back as you made your way through the crowded subterranean space. You were glad to have him with you this time, not particularly a fan of this mode of transportation, but it certainly was an efficient way to get around London. Pressed close together on the train, you took the opportunity to simply gaze at him, basking in his presence after nearly a month apart, not missing the way his mouth ticked up at the corner cockily.

“Missed you too, doll.” He winked and ducked a kiss to your ear before guiding you off the train at your stop – once he had confirmed with you it was indeed your stop.

Blinking your way back into the light of day, you pointed at a directional sign guiding the way to Hyde Park.

“Perfect, now apparently there are…sandwiches!” He crowed and tugged you over to a sandwich truck that seemed quite popular based on the line of waiting patrons.

Your face was starting to hurt, driving home how infrequently you had found the opportunity to smile in his absence, making you squeeze his hand fondly. Bucky looked back to you quickly as he joined the queue.

“You really did plan everything.” You gulped quickly and he beamed proudly.

“Anything for my girl. What kind would you like?” He gestured at the menu written on the side of the truck.

By the time you reached the front of the line, Bucky was able to easily place your order, including two bottles of lemonade, insisting on paying. Opening your utility bag, you carefully packed the lunch away, earning a rather damp and enthusiastic kiss on your cheek as he snatched your hand to continue onto the park.

“May I ask what it is about this park in particular?” You inquired as the pair of you dashed across the road.

“You can ask…” His cheeky reply had you scoffing in return as you entered the canopy of trees, following a path further and further away from the traffic of downtown London.

Plenty of men in uniform seemed to be out, enjoying the nice weather with women on their arms. Women who, unlike you, enjoyed the luxury of being allowed to dress as they chose during their leisure time. It had been one of many reasons that nearly twenty-five percent of women had chosen not to remain enlisted during the transition from the WAAC to the WAC, the army requirement to remain in uniform even when off-duty. In all honesty, you had not really missed your civilian clothes until just then.

Watching the sheer femininity of those women as they swirled about in their colorful fabrics only drove home how drably olive and plainly cut your uniform truly was.

“You’re a million miles away, doll.” Bucky’s voice cut through the dark clouds that had gathered in your mind and you looked to him quickly.

“Sorry Bucky, it’s beautiful here. Like another place entirely.” You offered him a smile but by the way his eyebrow lifted slightly he did not seem to be entirely buying it. “Have the leaves started changing around the base yet?” You tried changing the subject.

He shook his head, releasing your hand to slide his arm around your waist instead, pulling you closer. “Seems everything will happen later here than back home.”

You hummed thoughtfully, glancing ahead and gasping a little at the glimpse of a sizeable body of water that seemed to be filled with rowboats.

“That’s why were here.”

You turned back to him to see a broad grin had overtaken his face and laughed in excitement as it was terribly romantic.

“If I had known, Major Egan, I would have brought my parasol.” You grinned and he snorted, squeezing your hip fondly.

“No need to put on airs, 1st Lieutenant,” he smirked, “the ride will be enjoyable all the same.”

“Bucky!” You hissed sharply, slapping his chest as he laughed deeply, ducking your head slightly as more than a few passersby shot glances your way.

“C’mon doll.” He chuckled and led you over to the booth beside the dock, paying the fee for a thirty-minute rental before the pair of you headed down to climb into one of the waiting row boats.

Setting your heavy bag on the floor, you carefully stepped into the rather unstable watercraft, settling on the passenger’s bench – denoted as such by the ornate ironwork arms. Bucky followed, seated across from you at the oars, his knees nearly brushing against yours, legs too long for so small a boat. Unbuttoning and sliding off his jacket, he tossed it and his cap to you before rolling up his sleeves and began to row the pair of you out onto The Serpentine, you now knew the small lake to be called.

“I trust you know what you’re doing?” You asked as he appeared to easily manage the oars, seeming at ease in the small boat.

“Mostly.” He teased with a wink before laughing at your slightly aghast expression. “Grew up on the shore of Lake Michigan, doll. Boats are like planes to me, easily managed.” He soothed.

It was difficult to decide which view to settle your eyes upon, the verdant green of the still-lush trees, the throng of boats around you, or Bucky working up a remarkably attractive sheen of sweat with his forearms on display as he propelled the rowboat through the water. A feathered fan would have been a very useful tool in that moment, to hide behind or cool yourself down, or perhaps both.

Belatedly, you realized that Bucky had been speaking this whole time – about events back at Thorpe Abbotts. Giving you the update about the people you knew, the trouble Meatball had caused with a farmer down the road, but he trailed off when he realized you were staring once more in dumbfounded silence at him.

“Doll, you’re going to give me a big head if you keep looking at me like that.” He winked as he lifted the oars from the water, letting the water sluice from the blades before tucking them into the boat on either side of you.

“Y…you’re good at that.” You replied lamely and shook your head. “Hungry?” Leaning forward for your bag, which was in all honestly a lot closer to his feet in the floor of the boat, you froze as everything tilted precariously in response to your movements.

Bucky lay a gentle hand on your shoulder to steady you. “Allow me.” Bending down slowly, he scooped up your bag and opened the flap to retrieve your sandwich and lemonade. “It’s sure tight in here, how did you even make this all fit?”

He tugged a little harder on the packet containing your lunch and your eyes widened in horror as, while he was triumphant, he also managed to send the three condoms you had tucked into your bag scattering to the floor of the boat. His eyes followed the distinct, square, paper packets and you could see his throat bob as he swallowed viciously.

“Doll…” His voice came out rough as a gravel road as he slowly raised his eyes to meet yours. “…been doing some planning of your own?”

“‘A WAC is always prepared.’” You quoted in a mortified whisper, struggling against the urge to lunge forward and hide the evidence, knowing it would only send both of you over the side and into the lake.

You watched another swallow ripple down Bucky’s throat before he offered your lunch to you, carefully collecting the offending items and returning them to your bag before he retrieved his own food.

“Would you mind,” He spoke after taking a rather ruthless and oversized bite of his sandwich, words muffled between slices of bread and chicken salad before he swallowed to start over. “Would you mind if, instead of following the rest of my plan, after these thirty minutes are up, I take you back to the hotel?”

Taking a thick swallow of your own, you shook your head slowly as you felt your cheeks heat up at the implications of that invitation. “I would not mind, no.” You clarified breathlessly and he nodded sharply, gesturing for your as-yet-unopened bottle of lemonade.

Handing it back to him, you watched silently as he lined the edge of the cap with the metal plate holding the oarlock in place, popping it off the bottle with one sharp blow of the heel of his palm.

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly as he passed you the opened drink, taking a deep sip as he repeated the process with his own, draining nearly half the bottle in one go.

Tilting your head back to take in the feel of the sun on your face, you slid your cap from your hair, adding it to the pile of his neatly folded items on the bench beside you, continuing to enjoy your picnic on the lake.

“You heard about Dye hitting twenty-five?” He broke the silence, sounding much more like himself again and you nodded quickly.

“Big news, everywhere in the 8th. Lucky crew all heading home – how did Lil take it?” You tilted your head curiously, raising your bottle to your lips, his eyes following the motion closely.

“Hm? Oh, she’ll be alright…they’re both good at letters.” He nodded, leaning back a little.

You knocked your knee against his affectionately. “Don’t sell yourself short you sweet man, I thoroughly enjoyed yours.”

His eyes flicked to yours quickly as a small smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

You nodded firmly. “Yeah. Promise to give you more to reply to soon, phone was just necessary to make this happen.”

His hand landed on your thigh gently and he squeezed the flesh through your skirt. “Worth it. Just how long are your days though, doll?”

Your fingers played along the empty glass bottle, and you shrugged. “As long as they need to be.” You replied evasively.

“Mm, I’m going to get a better answer out of you than that.” He threatened playfully as he leaned forward to grasp the oar handles, swinging the blades back into the water and taking the pair of you on a loop around the corner of the lake before returning you to the dock.

Bucky climbed out first, taking his cap and jacket before helping you out easily, kissing you firmly as soon as you were on solid ground. “Let’s take a cab…” He breathed impatiently and you laughed, shaking your head.

“The cost would be astronomical, come on.” You affixed your cap on your head as he rolled down his sleeves and slid his jacket back on before the pair of you made your way back to the Underground.

Bucky’s body was practically pressed against yours the entire trip back to Liverpool Street station, seemingly unable to tolerate any form of separation. As you neared the hotel though, you looked to him slowly. “We should go in as colleagues…I booked us that way.”

He looked at you utterly confused, and you swallowed.

“We’re unwed, there was no way I could book us here together, and they will be none to please if they realize I’ve tricked them. I’ll get my key, you get yours, I’ll come to your room…”

He nodded slowly, arm reluctantly unwinding from around your waist before holding the door open for you to step inside.

“Thank you, Major.” You nodded, sliding your cap from your head as you stepped inside, heading to the counter to fetch your room key as he did the same, the pair of you walking up the stairs to the fifth floor together before parting ways so you could fetch your small overnight bag.

It was rather a waste of money, to book a room knowing you would most likely never sleep in it, but such things were necessary for women like you. Women who chose to go to bed with a man they were not married to in the long light of the afternoon. Taking a steadying breath, you left the perfectly made bed behind, walking down the hall to Bucky’s room and knocking on the door softly.

It promptly swung open to reveal a smiling Bucky, his jacket and cap long gone, along with his necktie, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He stepped back and gestured for you to enter his much larger room with a small brown paper wrapped packet clasped in his hand. Once the door was closed behind you, you let out the laugh you had been holding.

“I did book this under Major John Egan, I suppose they felt the need to give you a nicer room than a Lieutenant.”

He smirked and kissed your cheek, taking your cap and bag from your hand, then pressing the package into it. “Before I forget, again.”

“Bucky you didn’t have to get me anything, you came to see me…”

“Open it.” His eyes danced with anticipation, and you began to pull at the piece of twine holding the package closed, unfolding the utilitarian paper to reveal a brand-new pair of stockings.

You let out an audible gasp as your jaw fairly fell to the floor.

“To replace the pair that got wrecked when you fell.” He smiled, obviously pleased by your reaction.

“How on earth did you…?!” You trailed off, staring up at him in wonderment.

“A man never reveals his secrets, doll.” He grinned and let out a grunt as you launched yourself into his arms, kissing him fiercely at the thoughtfulness of his gift and in recognition of the sheer determination it must have taken to achieve such a feat in rationed England.

His fingers gently plied the items from your grasp, setting them on the bedside table, freeing your hands to latch onto his arms as he cupped your face gently.

“You sure about this, my beautiful girl?” He whispered and your breath hitched in your throat at the tender look on his face just inches from yours.

“Yes.” You nodded quickly, sliding your fingers into his hair to pull his lips back to yours greedily.

A pleased noise rolled from his throat and across your tongue as he coaxed your mouth open, his fingers shifting to make steady work at the buttons on your jacket before he unwound your hands from his dark curls to slide the garment off, tossing it in the general direction of the chair that held his. You could not help the giggle that bubbled up from your chest at that as you moved to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one.

The tug of his teeth on your lower lip quickly transformed your laughter to shuddering breath as you held tightly to the open sides of his shirt, feeling him tug your tie free from your collar before it joined the pile of clothes somewhere on the plush blue carpet of the hotel room floor. Your shirt and skirt were quick to join it, leaving you in your brassiere and slip, garter belt and underwear still hidden from view.

“You have a remarkable number of layers on, doll.” He huffed as his mouth descended along your throat to suck at the crook of your shoulder, installing a dramatic curve in your spine as you arched against him wantonly with a half-swallowed cry of pleasure.

“Y…you have almost as many…” You protested, tugging the ends of his shirt from his trousers before pushing it from his shoulders only to be met with his undershirt.

The sheer broadness of him had never quite been so very apparent and had you licking your lips as you struggled with the last barrier between you and his torso, your ID tags rasping metallically against his.

“Not nearly as complicated though.” He muttered as his fingers worked at the hook and eye closure of your bra until you felt the band go slack and he leaned back to slide the straps down your arms, making you shiver as your breasts were revealed to his hungry gaze.

Bucky’s heavy exhale fluttered against your collarbone, grown cool by the time it traversed the distance between you, and you shuddered slightly, looking to the side shyly. He leaned in to brush his nose against yours tenderly, pecking your lips.

“Whatcha hiding for, gorgeous?” His tone was gentle and had your eyes slowly sliding to meet his, an action he rewarded with a deep kiss.

He continued to distract you with repeated meetings your lips, each time with growing intensity as his palms slid upwards along your sides to cup your breasts. The meeting of flesh had you inhaling sharply through your nose, hands seeking anchor as your fingers twisted into his beltloops where his trousers hung open around his hips – yet again delaying you in your purpose of undressing him. As his thumbs honed in on your sensitive peaks, Bucky elicited all manner of noises from your throat only to eagerly devour them.

“D’ya have any idea how soft you are doll?” He sighed against your lips as he kneaded your tender flesh. “’Cept right here.” He smirked as he tugged at your nipples and you whined his name, pressing impossibly close against him, realizing he was anything but soft.

Your shimmies and writhes against him seemed to serve as a reminder of the greater purpose at hand and Bucky’s fingers ceased their torment, sliding down to your hips to divest you of your slip before beginning to work at your stockings. Toeing off your shoes, you pushed his trousers from his hips, letting gravity do the rest.

“So many hooks and straps and loops…” He muttered as his mouth dipped to the hollow of your throat, though his fingers seemed more than capable of stripping you down to only your underwear.

Seizing your hips, Bucky guided you back onto the bed, and you could not help the sigh at that flew from your mouth at the feel of a real mattress with springs and a duvet, drawing a broad grin across his face as he crawled over you, coaxing you to lay back.

“Precious women like you should always have luxurious beds like these. None of those stinking Army cots…” His hands slid beneath your spine to half guide, half drag you up to rest on the obnoxious mountain of pillows.

Staring up at him in awe, at a complete loss for words, you settled on pressing up onto your elbows to kiss him firmly, hoping to convey your appreciation physically rather than trying to summon speech. As his lips parted from yours to begin sliding down your body, you let out a slight huff of annoyance, earning a chuckle against your collarbone which rumbled through his chest and into your body. He lifted his head slightly as his fingers wove through the ball chain of your ID tags as he seemed to notice them for the first time.

“I always wondered if you ladies had these.”

You bit your lip to smother your grin as he never hesitated to say what was on his mind, a constant stream of commentary on the world around him, and rather than annoying, you found it utterly adorable.

“Are you laughin’ at me, doll?” He smirked and gave a gentle tug, pulling a genuine laugh from you, to which he responded with a brilliant grin. “Alright then, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” He bowed his head to drag the flat of his tongue across your nipple, your resulting whimper bouncing off the walls as he resumed his teasing of your opposite breast.

“B…Bucky…” Your eyes shot wide as his plush lips sealed around that tender peak, applying a positively euphoric suction that had you burying your fingers in his hair and pressing your body closer to his mouth in silent demand.

With careful precision, his knee slid its way between your thighs, applying coaxing pressure to each in turn until you provided enough room for him to settle between them. The feeling of his hard length slotting against your core with only the thin barrier of your underwear separating your intimate flesh had your jaw dropping open in a silent ‘oh’ – a revelation unto itself despite all the experiences you had enjoyed with him thus far. Undulating your hips against his experimentally, you shuddered at the ragged, abbreviated groan he pressed against your sternum, caught in the midst of traversing your chest. Thoroughly encouraged, you repeated the action, savagely gnawing on your lip as he bit off a curse before his mouth reached its destination and laved at your neglected nipple.

Nestling tighter against you, Bucky began to roll his hips against you in earnest, obliterating your ability to think and scheme against him at the blinding pleasure his combined actions induced. You could feel the smug angle of his lips against your abdomen as his mouth was trailing lower on your body, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear to peel it from your body. Shifting back to free the interfering item from your legs, he gazed down at you with almost black eyes, his pupils having nearly devoured his irises in his arousal, before stretching forward onto his stomach.

Blinking rapidly, you raised up on your elbows to watch him hoist one of your legs over a strong shoulder and then the other, shuffling embarrassingly close to the apex of your thighs.

“Bucky?” You squeaked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow up at you, his pink tongue darting out the wet his lips, nearly matching the flush that had painted its way across his cheeks and down his neck. “Yes, doll?”

“What…” You swallowed thickly as your throat clenched erratically.

“Making good on a promise.” He replied seriously before stretching forward to deliver a thorough kiss to your folds that fairly sucked the air from your lungs, an odd whistling sound echoing through you as you savagely burrowed your fingers into the bedding.

When his tongue narrowed in on that sensitive bundle of nerves, it was your turn to bite off a curse, slumping back onto the pillows as he hummed against you in what was surely mock sympathy as he most certainly did not let up, his efforts only doubling. As your hips began to jerk and writhe, he slung a heavy forearm across your pelvis to pin you in place, only shifting closer and tracing his forefinger around your entrance teasingly. It was all you could do not to kick and wail as you felt yourself becoming embarrassingly slick, the noises he was making growing ever so obscene and filling the hotel room.

“Fuck!” You whined against your palm as his finger finally sunk into your wet heat, its passage remarkably eased by your arousal, hips bucking hard enough to jar his arm slightly.

“Damn you’re delicious, doll.” He growled against you, lips smacking loudly as he began to suck at your pearl, finger working you open enough to add a second before beginning a demanding rhythm.

“Oh…oh...god…” You cried out in agony, too far gone to remember your desire to be quiet, feeling the tension of pending release growing ever closer under his amorous onslaught.

“I know, I know…” He soothed, only quickening his pace, hooking his fingers towards the front of your body, sending your back into a dramatic curve from the mattress, a tortured moan ripping from your throat. “Oh, I have to see that again.” He rasped and sought that precise spot with a ruthless single-minded precision until he was rewarded with not only the same reaction, but your strangled cry as your orgasm slammed into you with breath-taking force.

As you returned to earth from your visit to the celestial plane, the first sensation you became aware of was tender, damp kisses being pressed to your inner thigh as Bucky murmured soft words of encouragement to you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl, holy hell that was incredible, did you enjoy that half as much as I did?”

You managed a wordless noise in the affirmative that summoned him to your side, his lips feathering kisses up your jaw to your ear, the tickle of his moustache making you laugh breathlessly.

“Good?” He murmured and you nodded quickly, turning to look at his still-expectant face.

“Yes.” You cobbled together a verbal response, and he blessed you with a warm smile which you leaned in to press your lips against in gratitude.

“Good.” He swiped his tongue along your lips before suddenly slipping from the bed, making you raise your head in confusion.

Stalking over to find your utility bag amongst the sea of discard items and clothing, he proudly retrieved the three condoms that had announced your hopes and intentions for you by appearing in the rowboat, unceremoniously shucking off his boxers as he made his way back to you. You had held his length before, stroked it to completion, but that paled in comparison to seeing the full expanse of him in the light of day.

“My gorgeous doll, you might not say a lot, but you sure don’t mind looking at what you like.” He smirked unabashedly as he set two of the paper packets on the night table beside you, unwrapping the third to unroll the protective latex onto his cock.

Rather than letting his teasing words dissuade you, though they did cause your teeth to sink into your lower lip, you chose to allow your eyes to linger on his actions, rather fascinated by the whole process. By the male anatomy as well. Task managed, he was climbing over you once more, blocking the golden light of afternoon that was filtering in through the windows with his body, warmth radiating from his skin. He settled easily between your legs once more, still parted from his early activities as you really had not summoned the wherewithal to move yet, and stroked his length through the lingering slick gathered along your folds.

A broken sigh fell from his lips before they clashed with yours, not quite aligned, but the sentiment was still there, body shuddering as you slid your arms around him to cling to his shoulders. It was difficult to tell just whom Bucky was teasing as he continued to rut against you, the tip of his cock brushing against your overly-sensitive bundle of nerves, both of you huffing through your nostrils until at last he began to sink into you.

Tearing your lips from his, you sucked in gasping breaths at the feel of the foreign intrusion, appreciating the fact that his pace seemed to slow in response to that. Appreciating the pause he afforded you when his pelvis slotted snuggly against yours once he was seated fully inside you. Cracking open your clenched eyes, you gulped tightly as they were immediately met by Bucky’s, crowned by a furrowed brow, but flicking over your features studiously as if awaiting your instruction.

“I’m ok.” You breathed and he nodded, immediately seizing your lips in a kiss once more as he rocked forward, earning a ragged moan as your fingertips dug into the skin of his back.

His familiarity with this sort of activity had always been apparent, but was exceptionally obvious now as he slowly began the rhythmic push and pull to drive you both towards climax. The sheer intimacy of it was too much and yet it was not nearly enough, your body craving ever more, ever faster, with increasing desperation. The rare moments that Bucky’s lips were not on yours, they were filling the room with choked-off moans or statements of the filthiest order.

“God doll, you feel so fucking good around me.”

“So tight. I can feel how wet you are too, even with this rubber on.”

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t ya? You’re gripping on me like a…fuck I can’t think when you do that…”

His ability to even speak while experiencing such mind-numbing pleasure, rambling though it was, was fairly awe-inspiring. Your responses were limited to moans and whimpers and cries of his name as his supposition was correct – your orgasm was indeed imminent. All it took was the solicitous stroking of his forefinger against the apex of your pleasure to send you flying over the cliff into paradise, clinging to his body as you cried out in ecstasy.

A string of rasped curses mixed in with several sighs of your name heralded his release as Bucky finished not long after, rocking against you sloppily before sinking down onto your chest with a comforting heaviness. Stroking his back tenderly as he nestled into your neck, you grinned stupidly at the ceiling as you felt quite pleased with your choices.

The pair of you made good use of the rest of the condoms you had brought, with a short break for a meal Bucky procured while you took a bath. He returned with a bottle of brandy as well, finding you still in the bathtub. A lot of water ended up on the floor, a pile of water-logged towels your testament to the attempted clean-up. Eating in bed, you shared stories of your childhoods – Bucky’s about growing up on the shores of Lake Michigan, yours of the small two-storey house with its screen door and front porch from which you had watched your brother play with the neighbourhood boys.

You fell asleep in one another’s arms after the final condom was disposed of, the sun long set, but awoke sometime in the night to the unsettling sound of an air raid siren. Not as common in 1943, yet being as close as you were to Canary Wharves, the Luftwaffe still made the occasional bomb run. Startled to find the bed empty, you sat up sharply to see Bucky sitting in front of the window, completely naked, intermittently illuminated by the flashes of distant explosions and anti-aircraft fire.

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to wake ya.” He muttered and you shook your head, sliding to the end of the bed.

“You ok?” You tilted your head, blinking into a particularly bright flash.

“Hmmm…” He replied noncommittally, turning back to the scene before him with a frown. “I’ve dropped a lot of those. Done a lot of killing.”

Swallowing tightly, you slid to your feet despite the way your heart was pounding in your throat, padding across the carpet towards him.

“Done your job, Bucky. Done what was asked of you.” You assured him, coming to stand behind him, setting your hands on his shoulders.

“If there’s any balance to all this, my ticket was punched a long time ago.” He muttered sullenly and it was your turn to frown.

Bending down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, you stepped in front of him to block his view, perhaps, hopefully, to block his darker thoughts as you shifted to sit on his thighs.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He quirked an eyebrow, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your fingers slid between your bodies to gently stroke his length.

“Lightening up.” You replied, invoking the words of your dead brother’s inscription.

It was impossible to think of a more important piece of advice or a more importance source in that moment. A young man who would never get the chance to spend one more time in his lover’s arms, who knew you better than anyone in the entire world. And you were most certainly going to follow it. You had to be up in less than three hours, to catch the first train to High Wycombe, and you would not pass up this moment with Bucky. The future was unknowable, your brother’s death had certainly taught you that.

Bucky’s fingers curled into your hips as his mouth descended onto yours greedily, clearly in agreement with your plan, despite the lack of remaining condoms. Shuffling closer, you guided his now fully hard cock into your body, your soft noises of pleasure colliding with his in the space between your parted lips. Working together, with plenty of guidance from his firm grip, you began to rocking your hips, using his shoulders for leverage. His head fell back to stare up at you in awe, jaw slack, adam’s apple bobbing viciously.

“Christ, I love you…” His face betrayed such vulnerability, lips trembling slightly, that you quickly lifted your hands to cradle his cheeks, even as your lashes grew suddenly damp.

“I love you too, John. So much.” You replied thickly, rather resenting the dramatic wobble in your voice.

The tiniest of smiles pulled at his lips before his face grew serious once more and he lunged forward to kiss you hungrily, hands anchoring your shoulders so he might thrust up into your body with a sudden need. It was all you could do to hang on, though pleasure itself still managed to sweep you away, leaving you only with the vague recognition of him half pulling out mid-release.

It was terribly difficult to leave him in that comfortable, if messy, bed a few hours later. He did not make it easy either, impossible to untangle from your body like an unwieldy piece of seaweed. Yet somehow you managed to make your trains and arrive at your desk at the appointed hour. Focusing on the task at hand with the pleasurable ache between your legs was altogether another challenge, forcing you to sit on first one hip and then the other.

You had just returned after the lunch break when your phone rang, your greeting barely out of your mouth before Bucky’s question came down the line.

“Did you know you know where they played yesterday’s match?” He asked flatly and it took you several seconds to comprehend that he was speaking in code and just what he was getting at.

You swallowed painfully. “Yes, I did sir.”

Of course you did, you were in the room on Thursday night when they had chosen Bremen as the target for yesterday’s mission.

“A lot of our best players struck out, you know. Buck included.”

He sounded utterly unlike himself, cold and distant, not the man you had left just hours ago in that hotel room in London. All the same, your heart broke for him, and for yourself too. You liked Major Cleven – this war was nothing but cruel.

“I’m so sorry B-Major Egan.” You corrected yourself quickly, eyeing Myrtle across the room.

“Well I hope you all pick a better field for tomorrow’s match because I’m pitching.”

You opened your mouth to reply as your heart dropped through the floor, but the sound of the handset slamming into the cradle resounded over the line before it went dead, giving you no opportunity to speak. To wish him luck or, heaven forfend, goodbye. You hung up your phone with a slightly shaking hand as a deep sense of dread threaded its way through your stomach.

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

Read Part Five - "I Trusted You!"

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan imagine #john egan fic #john egan #john bucky egan #mota fic #masters of the air fanfic

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catboyieejeno · 1 year

Text

"Let him look,"

pairings: bf! yuta x afab! reader summary: The boys invite you and Yuta on a trip for Mark's birthday, but when Jaehyun makes a few too many plays at you, Yuta reminds you that you belong to him. contents: established relationship, pining, slight fluff, angst, jealous sex, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, praising/praise kink, switch! yuta (i know, what a surprise, but trust me on this), minors dni count: 6.6k

"What do you think? Black or Red?" You hold up your two options for swim wear, dangling the pieces on either one of your index fingers.

Yuta looks up from his phone and at you, immediately locking it and putting it aside, suddenly very interested in the topic of your debate. He squints his eyes and furrows his brow in thought, trying to picture your body in each one. Although he has a crystal clear image in his mind paired with his choice of preference, he instead huffs, opting for a cheeky response.

"I don't know, I think you'll have to try them on," he smirks with a shrug.

"First of all, you've seen me in both of these," you scoff, giving him a playful glare as your hands fall to your hips, "and second of all, we're already running late. You're not even ready, and at this point, we'll get there after Mark does,"

Last week, a few of the boys invited the two of you on a weekend-long trip to the coast for Mark's birthday. Since they were on break from schedules and practices for the next two months, this would be the perfect getaway trip to celebrate their much needed hiatus and their friend's birthday, all in one.

Mark is one of the members you are closest to; In fact, he’s the one that introduced you to Yuta and the rest of the guys. Naturally, Johnny insisted that you had to go with them and accompany Yuta.

The two of you have your own room with an infinity pool and deck awaiting your arrival.

It had been forever since the two of you had gone on a vacation alone, with all the promotions the group had to do recently, and the mere thought had been giving you butterflies ever since the plan came to be. Sure, you have Yuta all to yourself often, for days at a time, but to have him alone in a luxurious hotel room has your mind spinning.

“Fine,” he sighs, sliding to the edge of the bed, hands pulling you in at your waist. His mouth connects to the skin of your stomach, exposed under the brim of the short top you’re wearing, while his eyes looked up at yours the whole time, “wear the black one,” he mumbles between kisses, “makes you look sexier.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you run a hand through his long hair, sighing audibly. “Finish packing,” you insist.

Yuta rolls his eyes but obliges nonetheless, getting up to put the last of his clothes and toiletries in his bag. Johnny had let you both know he’d be there in the next 20 minutes, but the by the look of your bedroom and the mess of clothes that scattered every surface, he might just leave you two behind.

You and Yuta pack quickly and quietly, other than the one or two times you remind each other to take something you otherwise might’ve forgotten. When all your bags are zipped up and waiting with their owners by the door, a honk from outside paired with two or three texts to Yuta’s phone let you know your ride is here.

It’s a warm day outside, your favorite kind of day. Suddenly feeling excited, you get in the car while Yuta accommodates your belongings in the trunk. Biding hello to everyone and rambling about how highly you were anticipating the trip, you take your seat in the middle next to your boyfriend and beside Haechan.

Jaehyun sits at the passenger side, arguing with Johnny, who is driving, the whole way to the resort about which turn to make or what street to go down. Initially, it's rather amusing to watch them quarrel, but around the third time that Johnny takes the wrong exit, all of you realize you might actually never get to your destination.

This back and forth between the boys lasts until Haechan urges that they pull over, letting him direct instead, having grown far too annoyed with the bickering.

“Taeyong, Jungwoo, Doyoung, Taeil and Mark will have all turned 40 by the time we get there if we’re going at this pace,” Haechan snaps, tapping Jaehyun’s shoulder, “switch with me.”

Johnny laughs, turning the wheel and parking the car on the side of the road. There, the two boys switch, Jaehyun taking Haechan’s old spot beside you. As he sits, he offers you a warm, dimpled smile.

—

After a much smoother navigation (thank you, Haechan), the five of you manage to make it to the hotel, somehow beating the other boys which earns your group time to set up and settle in.

Everyone splits into their rooms, agreeing to meet up by the private pool after dropping off all the luggage and changing, at which time Mark would have arrived and the birthday shenanigans could commence.

The hotel is large, walls painted in a bone color with a blue trim. It’s clean and filled with plants and fountains, giving the impression of an outdoor space.

Yuta leads you through the lobby and up into your suite by the hand, tapping in the key card. As soon as the door shuts with a click, he drops the stuff on the bed and turns around to face you.

“Come ‘ere” he whispers, opening his arms.

You tilt your head defiantly and walk over to him at a torturously slow pace, which you know well enough that Yuta has no patience for. It takes him no more than a second before he reaches out for you and pulls you close until the two of you are chest to chest. His lips press against yours, gently at first, hands finding their way to your hair, then down your arms until they happily situate themselves at your hips.

The kiss quickly becomes a little more feverish, eager. You wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep steady, unable to resist mewling into his mouth as he breaths into yours.

"Mmph, baby," you mumble against his lips, "We have to-"

"I know, I know," he nods, pulling away for a second to look at your face, "But we're on vacation," he reminds you, "Mark isn't here yet, we can spare a few minutes,"

Deciding he's right, you use one hand to push him back and onto the edge of the king-sized bed, taking a seat on his lap. He grins at the prospect of you finally giving in, and leans back momentarily to look you up and down. He takes in your figure as if he’s never seen it before.

A groan rumbles in his throat at the sight of your breasts that sit tightly underneath the material of your shirt and he desperately dives for your neck, leaving slow, wet kisses along your sensitive skin. He stalls there for a moment, then trails his lips to your shoulder blades and back down toward your chest. His hands slide up your stomach and under your shirt until they each grab one of your boobs.

"I can't believe I have you all to myself in this huge room. God," he pauses, "the things I'm gonna do to you,"

You smirk, but it doesn't distract him from catching the redness that appears on your face at the direct nature of his statement.

Immediately, his pants feel significantly tighter; Yuta knows how bold and shamelessly needy you are in bed, never afraid to tell him how good he makes you feel or what you want him to do next. Nevertheless, it is always a turn on for him to see you crumble at just his words.

Reaching a hand up to hold his jaw, you bring his face closer to yours and your lips make contact again. He hums against your mouth, bucking his hips up subconsciously. In response, you roll your own down to meet him halfway, relishing in the much needed friction between your legs. The smacking sound of your open mouthed kisses and the panting that came with it were the only sounds in the room, with the exception of a few moans that couldn't be suppressed by either of you.

Until now; a knock on the door makes the two of you break apart, a very annoyed expression replacing the previously lustful one on your boyfriend's face.

"What?" He calls.

"Mark's here, Taeyong just told me they're parking," Johnny responds, voice slightly muffled behind the door.

You and Yuta look at each other and you laugh at his flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Alright, going!” he grumbles.

"We'll continue this later, baby boy," you move to get off of him, but not without letting your hand brush along his semi-hard crotch, "you’re lucky those swim trunks are loose,"

"Very funny," He scoffs, pressing a light smack to your ass as you turn around and head for your bag, pulling out the black bikini he had picked out for you at home.

You begin to slide off your shorts, taking your precious time since you know he's still watching. Through the reflection of the mirror, your vision follows his right hand as it squeezes his clothed dick, lip caught between his teeth and eyes narrowed, anticipating your every move. Your shirt is soon discarded too, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.

Now, you can take your bra off on your own, but it’s just too easy to tease him.

"Help me?" You mumble with a pout, walking over and turning your back to him, letting your left hand brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the clasp of your bra to him. As if that wasn’t enough, you sit between his legs, pressing the curve of your ass right on his lap, making him grunt.

He easily undoes your bra, fighting the urge to flip you over and fuck you right here as he presses your face into the pillows, not caring that everyone else is waiting for the two of you downstairs. But instead, he decides he’d rather wait. If you want to to keep being a tease, that’s fine by him.

He knows you have plenty of self control, but he also knows he has more; and so, he’ll let you continue your little game, knowing that at the end of the night, you’ll be begging and crying for him to fuck you.

Newly encouraged and eager to see his plan play out, Yuta slides out from behind you and walks over to the bathroom, leaving you alone, practically naked in the main room and unable to torture him further. As you huff and slip on your bikini in defeat, Yuta rests his arm against the closed bathroom door, readjusting his bulge so that it’s less visible. He does this only after pumping himself into his hand a few times pretending it was you, unable to resist the vividness of his imagination; however, he quickly stops for two reasons: if he keeps going, he’d be fully hard and unable to hide his erection from his friends. That, and Mark had actually gotten here now, and there was more than just sex planned for this weekend.

When he comes back out, you’re sitting pretty on a chair out in the deck, shades on your eyes, your black bikini hidden under a matching black cover up.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments, a beaming smile appearing on your face as you see him approaching, “Let’s go downstairs, yeah?”

You eagerly nod, and the two of you go downstairs to meet up with the rest of the boys.

The private pool they rented out was full of inflatables and water guns, and you almost forgot you were at an adult’s birthday party until you saw the nearby bar full of drinks of all colors being served by two bartenders.

All of the members are already gathered around the pool. The boys that had ridden in the car with you had already gotten in it seems, an obvious tell being their wet hair that sticks to their foreheads.

Mark, who still seems to be taking in the surprise, gets a bright blue drink shoved in his hand, “Yo, what is all this?”

“Start drinking, birthday boy, you have a long way to go before you catch up to us,” Johnny laughs, turning to face you and Yuta, “You two grab a drink, too, It’s about time you made it down here,”

Mark notices your presence and immediately pulls his drink away from his lips, almost choking in the process, “You came?”

“Of course I came, Mark Lee. You thought I’d miss your birthday?” The boy laughed and gave you a side hug, other hand grabbing Yuta’s to clap him up, “Let me get a drink, I can’t let you sip alone,” you insist.

“I’m gonna go set this down, yeah?” Yuta gestures at the tote bag slung over his shoulder that you packed with sunscreen and towels. You nod in acknowledgement and walk over to the bar where a bright pink drink catches your eye. From his seat on a lounge chair, Yuta takes off his tank top and starts applying sunscreen. To his right is a table where Haechan, Jungwoo and Jaehyun were setting up beer pong.

“You wanna get in with me?” Yuta asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You shake your head.

“I’m not hot enough yet,” you explain, “In a little,”

He nods and leaves one more kiss on your cheek, then disappears behind you and toward the pool.

“We’re gonna play beer pong, you wanna join?” You look up at Jaehyun, debating your options. He furrows his brows at the hesitance on your features, “Come on, I don’t have a partner,”

Sighing in defeat, you hold out a finger at the red solo cups Jungwoo was filling with the fizzy yellow liquid, “Alright, fine. But I don’t like beer. If they score, I’ll sip from my drink,”

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun smiles, “I’ll drink for you,”

“It’s me and Jungwoo versus you and Jaehyun,” Haechan nods.

“Alright, alright. Give me a second.” Placing your drink down on the table by the rest of your things, you slip off your cover up and sandals, pulling your sunglasses down to your eyes from where they sit on your head. Reclaiming your drink and taking a generous sip, you walk back over.

It’s your turn first. You lean down, lining up the little white ball encased in your fingers with the cups on the other side of the table.

You’re too concentrated on your shot to notice, but Yuta, stood in the fresh, cool water of the pool, had been watching you ever since you took off the sheer cover up. His eyes trail your body, studying the way the impossibly small triangles of fabric hug your breasts and push them together, or the way your ass perks up, thanks to the way you’re arching your back trying to play.

He watches, amused, until he notices one small detail: he isn’t the only one checking you out.

With his hands on his waist, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, Jaehyun’s eyes look you up and down watching as you make your shot and score.

Instantly, Yuta’s jaw clenches tightly, but something Taeyong says momentarily takes his attention off of what he’s witnessing. As soon as he answers his friend though, his eyes are right back on you, warily watching your interaction.

Your ball lands into one of the cups at the front row, earning you a high-five from your partner.

Jaehyun’s turn is next. “Blow on it for good luck,” he whispers, holding the ball up to your lips. You blow softly, breaking into laughter halfway through, “if I make this, it’s all thanks to you,”

“Hurry up and throw it already,” Haechan whines, waving his arm around.

Jaehyun gives you a playful wink and tosses the ball. It lands in a cup.

“Dude, no way you guys are beating us,” you gloat. You rest your elbow on Jaehyun’s shoulder, putting on a cocky look as you watch the boys on the other side grab the cups and down their drinks.

“Yeah, yeah, watch this.” Jungwoo shoots and makes it, but Haechan misses, taking a few seconds to wallow and recover his pride.

You pick up the cup, about to drink the disgusting beer inside, when Jaehyun stops you, taking the solo cup from your hand. “Sip from your drink, I promised you I’d have the beer.”

And so, the game continues: you and Jaehyun score mercilessly, leaving the two other boys trying to negotiate a rule change or argue about who has drank more between the two of them. Before every toss of his ball, Jaehyun would insist you blow on it, claiming you were his good luck charm. This didn’t sit well with Yuta, who had started making his way over to you. There was only one cup left on Jungwoo and Haechan’s side and it was your turn.

“Baby,” Yuta calls. You turn around, pulling your shades up to see him better. “Let me put some sunscreen on you,” he suggests, “Your cheeks are getting red,”

“We’re about to win-“ Jaehyun tries, but you hand him the ball.

“It’s alright, you got this. Take my shot for me.” You toss him the ball and he holds it up like he's done for the previous rounds.

“Let’s make sure this goes in, yeah?” As he waits for you to blow, Yuta’s annoyance gets the better of him and he grabs the ball, throwing and making it in from where he stood behind you to finish the game. The two losers start going on about how that was cheating, but Jaehyun doesn’t bat an eye, not truly catching on to Yuta’s hidden distaste for the way he was interacting with his girlfriend.

“Princess, come here,” he straddles the lounge chair, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and gesturing for you to sit, which you do, crisscross between his legs with your back facing his chest. His hands rub the lotion onto your neck, shoulders and thighs, massaging your muscles in the process. Your head falls back on his shoulder.

“That feels nice,” you mumble lazily, turning your face to leave some kisses on his neck. His skin felt cold, no doubt reflecting the temperature of the water.

“Mmm.” He hums, “How much have you drank?”

“Just the one. I’m gonna grab another now,” you reply. Your hands overlap his, helping him spread the sunblock along your thighs. You felt him squeeze every so often, making you chuckle to yourself.

“Don’t play beer pong anymore,” he mumbles, “Get in the water with me,”

“I will, as soon as this soaks in. I’ll put my feet in for now,”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Yuta!” Mark shouts, waving him down from the pool, “Volleyball!”

“Maybe later, Mark-“

“You can’t say no! It’s my birthday.”

"Your birthday's tomorrow." He argues back.

You laugh at them, nudging your boyfriend, “Go, make him happy. I can finish applying it on my face.”

“Alright, baby.” He leaves you with a peck on the lips, going over to the water and immediately splashing Mark as soon he gets in.

You put some sunscreen on your hands, rubbing it together and spreading it across your chest and stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, and you could tell Yuta was right about your cheeks being red because they were hot under the pads of your fingers. You covered your face in the protectant, then opened your eyes as you notice the darkness behind your lid. A tall figure stands in front of you, blocking the sun.

“I noticed you drank all of your drink during the game so, I got you another,” Jaehyun extends his arm, holding out a yellow drink with a pineapple wedge on it. You thank him, wiping your hands on the towel to get rid of the extra product and taking it. He presses his own glass against yours as a cheers and the two of you take a sip.

“Mm, this one’s really good,” You claim, “I think I like it more than the pink one,”

“Mine’s good, too. You wanna try it?”

You and Jaehyun switch drinks and try each other’s. As soon as the sour taste of the kiwi hits your tongue, you huff.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Yours is better.”

“Have it,” he grins. You immediately shake your head, handing it back to him.

“No, no. It’s yours, here,”

“Seriously, it’s okay. I like the pineapple one more.”

“You’re just saying that,” you shake your head again.

“I promise,”

Giving him a doubtful look, you sigh, “Fine.”

“You gonna get in?” He asks you, tilting his head toward the pool.

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, getting up as you remember you promised Yuta that you’d join him in the water. Your sunscreen has to have absorbed by now, so it should be fine to get in. You leave your shades on the chair, standing up fully. As you’re about to walk past Jaehyun, he stops you by grabbing your forearm softly.

“Wait, you have, uhm-“ His hand comes up, “Here,” he uses his thumb to swipe away a streak of white sunscreen on your cheek, “There you go,”

“Oh, um… Thank you.”

You sit by the edge of the pool, slipping your feet in and shuddering at the temperature of the water. Your eyes search for Yuta among the members playing volleyball but you don’t find him there. Instead, he’s leaning against the side of the pool. You wave him over, oblivious to the daggers he’s glaring your way, but he doesn’t budge.

Jaehyun sits beside you, reaching down and scooping up some water with his hand, splashing you.

“It’s cold!” You complain, squeezing your eyes shut.

“It feels better once you go in, come on.” He encourages, jumping in so the water is at his waist. It splashes you and you shriek, holding an arm up. He grabs your drink from your grip, setting it down beside you, then pulls you into the pool.

“Oh, my god. It’s freezing,” You gasp, “holy shit.”

“But it feels good, right?” He laughs.

Unbeknownst to you and Jaehyun, Yuta had been watching your entire conversation from a distance. He scoffs, beyond tired of all the drink-sharing, giggling, and skin ship going on between the two of you. His face is growing hotter by the second as he watches the way Jaehyun keeps glancing down at your exposed chest, breasts glistening and bouncing on the surface of the water. His teeth are starting to hurt from the way he’s been gritting them together.

“Fuck this,” he mutters to himself.

He pulls himself out of the water, walking past the two of you and towards his towel to dry off. This catches your attention and your head spins around as you call for him.

“Babe?”

He doesn’t answer.

“He probably just went to get a drink-“ You ignore Jaehyun, knowing that something was wrong and pull yourself out of the water, too.

“Yuta, stop.” You try again.

When you’re both out of sight from the rest of the members, he finally turns around, seething.

“Yuta-“

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you having fun?”

“What?”

“Forget it,” he scoffs. “If you wanna talk, we can talk in the room, not here,” He snaps, glancing behind you at Taeil who was approaching, fetching the volleyball that had flown out of the water, completely unaware of the conversation happening between you and Yuta.

“Okay,” you breathe, “yeah.”

You follow him up to the suite in silence; the air is tense and heavy, almost radiating with the anger Yuta is feeling. He opens the door and throws his towel to the side, running a hand through his hair. Still, he doesn’t say anything until you speak first.

“Yuta,”

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He spits, arm gesturing toward the pool.

“What was what? What are you talking about?” You ask, genuinely bewildered.

“God, you’re fucking dense.”

“Excuse me?” You snap, eyes narrowing.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t notice the way Jaehyun was eye-fucking you the whole day?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Yuta? He wasn’t eye-fucking me, he was just-“

“What? Being nice? Grabbing you a drink is being nice? Caressing your cheek and pulling you into the water by your waist so he can stare at your chest is being nice?” He rambles, raising his voice, “Insisting you blow on the ping-pong ball as if that has any fucking effect whatsoever on how-“

“First of all,” you snap, holding a finger up. “You don’t have to yell. Ever.” You take a breath, trying to keep your voice steady, “and you don’t get to call me dense.”

His eyes soften slightly, but you can still see the anger tainting his features. His voice, however, is now significantly lower, in both volume and tone, “I spent the whole day trying to get you to go in the water with me and spend time with me and where were you? Playing beer pong with Jaehyun. Lounging and sharing drinks with Jaehyun. The only reason you went in at all was because Jaehyun carried you in. He was flirting with you in front of my face.”

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “It didn’t seem like that was his intention and if it was, then I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I hope you know,” you reach for his hand and he lets you, “that if I even suspected it was like that, I would’ve put a stop to it.”

He sighs begrudgingly.

“Do you not believe me? You don’t trust that I would?”

“I trust you, I do.” he admits, “But it’s hard to believe that you didn’t notice the way he was looking you.”

“Let him look,” you grab both of Yuta’s hands, wrapping them around yourself, “He’s only fooling himself.”

You can tell he’s still very upset by the way he casts his eyes at the ground, but his arms pull you in anyway, shoulders relaxing under your hands as you rub them.

“I love you, okay?" He finally looks up at you, "I’m sorry I didn’t catch on. And in all fairness, if that was you and another girl, I’d be fucking mad, too,” His eyes look between yours, and he sees the genuineness of your words and your apology.

“I’m all yours, baby." you continue, "He can look all he wants; that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only person that I want to touch me and look at me that way," You bring his hand down to your ass and his hand squeezes the skin instinctively.

“I’m still kinda mad,” he warns.

“That’s okay.”

“I should be fucking furious,”

“Mhm,” you hum against his neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

He lets out a hiss at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he swallows thickly, “You do look good in that bathing suit,”

“What, this?” You ask, leaning back so he can look at you. Your hands hold your breasts, squeezing them, “Is this what he was staring at?”

He gives you a slight look of warning that tells you not to push it, but you know very well what you’re doing and just how far to take it.

You shake your head, “That’s too bad,”

“What is?” Yuta asks.

“That he can’t ever see them like this,” you single-handedly reach behind you and pull at the string tied around your neck, letting the material fall and expose your breasts, full and round and perfect, displayed for your boyfriend's hungry eyes.

“Fuck,”

“Sit back, baby,”

He scoots onto the edge of the bed, hands at your waist as you straddle him, giving him a perfect view of your boobs. One of his thumbs brushes over your nipple, the other hand going behind his head for support.

You take your time, leaning down and peppering open mouthed kisses on his torso, tongue dragging down his stomach until you reach his belly button ring where you stop and look up, watching his expression twist into lust through your lashes. His dick twitches at the sight before him, mouth hanging open.

“This is the best decision you’ve ever made,” You joke, kissing around the piercing. You tug at it with your teeth until he hisses, free hand grabbing at your hair to pull you up.

“Stop fucking teasing me, it’s all you’ve done all day.”

“Since you’re so mad, why don’t you show me? Show me how mad you get when your friends stare at me,”

In a mere second, Yuta flips you over, using your hair that twists around his right hand as leverage.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Even with your voice strained from the pain of your hair being tugged, you muster up a smart-ass reply, “Yeah, you know, I’d say I am rather funny somet-“

His left hand grabs your throat harshly, lips attaching themselves to yours to shut you up. “Take off your fucking bottom piece,” He says into your mouth, breath mixing with yours as you let out a strangled moan. Your hands work quickly to untie the remaining bikini piece, hips lifting to pull it off of yourself and toss it to the side. As soon as you do, he settles comfortably between your legs, grinding himself down into you.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, eyes rolling back at the direct friction against you.

“I’m gonna eat you out baby,” He tells you, “But you’re not gonna come,”

A whimper escapes your lips, but you don’t dare say anything or attempt to argue this time. You watch as he slides down your body, kissing every spot on the way down like you’d done to him just moments ago, leaving wet marks and streaks along your skin.

When his face is finally between your legs, you hike them up, resting your thighs on his shoulders. Mouth agape and eyes half open, you watch as he brings his thumb up to touch you, rubbing slowly.

“Mmm, Yuta,”

“I know, baby, I know.”

He licks up your folds, once, twice, then three times, lapping you up as many times as he deems necessary before finally attaching his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking at your sensitive bud. At the overwhelming sensation, your eyes roll back.

You try to reach for his hair but he grabs your hands and intertwines your fingers with his, holding them at your side. Unable to help yourself, you roll your hips, grinding yourself against his tongue.

At your desperation, Yuta moans, the sound vibrating through your core. Every so often, he presses a kiss to you, then leans back to take in the sight of your glistening core. He looks at it as if he's been starved, and maybe he has with all your teasing earlier in the day. He's ravenous, mouth and tongue working against you wonderfully, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

"Yuta, oh, I'm gonna-"

"No," He interrupts, but doesn't stop what he's doing. He lets go of one of your hands, his index and middle finger slipping into you.

"Please, please let me-"

"No," he replies, tone much sharper this time, "I better not feel you come around me or so help me God, I'll leave you here like this,"

Knowing better than to question the sincerity of his threat, you take a deep breath, trying to suppress the feeling in your stomach that begs you to let go.

Yuta removes his fingers from inside of you and pulls down his own shorts. He had become too aroused while pleasuring you, and his dick was begging for any kind of stimulation. He pumps himself into his hand, using the precum that leaked from his red tip and your left over wetness on his fingers as lubrication.

"Let me help you," you whimper, squirming, "Please, I'll be good, just let me help you. I can't," a moan escapes your lips, "I can't take it anymore,"

For a second, he looks dangerous, as if he'll continue his merciless efforts, but he ultimately slows his tongue, settling for your compromise.

You pant, attempting to recover for a brief moment as he lays beside you on the bed, pulling his shorts all the way off.

"Baby," he calls. You turn to him, getting up on all fours. Your face is right by his cock awaiting his next command, one of your hands wrapping around the base of it. Yuta sits up for a second, grabbing you by the back of your neck to bring you in for the most sensual kiss you've shared in a while. It's messy and needy, but simultaneously slow and drawn out. He's savoring you and the fact that you're his.

His tongue swipes at yours, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, moaning at the lewdness of the situation. As he pulls away, you look into his eyes, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.

"Suck me off slowly. I don't wanna come before I've been inside you."

Nodding obediently, you do just that. Your soft, swollen lips place a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock and you drag them down, taking your time as he requested. Eventually, you replace them with your tongue, making sure to get him all wet so your hand will be able to slide on his length with ease.

"You're so fucking hot," he praises, letting both of his hands rest behind his head.

Part of you wants to be good and please him the way he asked of you, but the ache between your legs reminds you of the way he left you hanging no more than five minutes ago. Even now, you feel like you're so close; like if you just used your imagination and clenched around nothing, you'd reach your orgasm.

Hence, you conclude that returning the favor wouldn't hurt, right?

You take him fully into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Involuntarily, you swallow around him and Yuta hisses, hips bucking up. Wasting no time, you start bobbing up and down on his dick, letting him all the way in each time. Your pretty eyes are watering but you remain, still looking at him, loving the way his face contorts into pleasure.

Your lips come off of him with a pop and a string of saliva is the only thing left behind. You use your hand to stroke him, taking extra care to squeeze at the tip.

"Mmm, don't stop,"

"Or what?" You provoke, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear as you slow the motion of your wrist.

He sucks in a sharp breath, lifting his hips to meet your speed, "Please, don't stop," he whispers, looking down at you.

"You want me to use my mouth again, baby?"

He quickly nods, reaching out to hold your jaw and draw it near his swollen tip again. You let him guide you as you wrap your lips around him, sucking and licking until he can no longer suppress his groans.

"Okay, okay," his hand goes to pull you up, but you resist, feeling him twitch, "If you-fuck, if you keep going m'gonna come,"

With a gasp, desperate to replenish the lost oxygen in your lungs, you take him out of your mouth, both of your chests heaving.

"Was that good?" You ask, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"So fucking good."

"Good enough that you'll let me come now?"

He laughs at how direct you are, pulling you on top of him, "I'd like nothing more, beautiful."

Lining yourself up with his dick, you slowly sink down, head falling back at the way he fills you up. Yuta sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, using his hands to help you guide your hips. He moves you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust.

Even though he's being gentle, you're still so sensitive from earlier that your walls instantly clench around him. Consequently, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he tries not to come, grabbing your hips and lifting you until the only part of him that's in you is his tip.

"Yuta, stop teasing," You whine breathlessly.

"Am I in?"

You nod, "Yeah?"

"Then I ain't teasing,"

He slams you down until that he's so deep inside you that you gasp, then quickens his pace.

There were no words to describe how good and full you felt, finally getting to do what you both were looking forward to all day. He hisses every time you tighten around him, your walls so narrow that you were practically milking him.

Having you face him as he fucked you was his favorite way because like this, he could see your fucked out expression the entire time he pumped in and out of you. He could study which movement of his hips made your eyes roll back or your lips part. He could watch you fall apart, all because of him.

"That's so good, Oh, my-"

He lets out a throaty groan,"You're so fucking tight,"

When he feels your movements falter and notices your breath hitch in your throat, he knows you're close. Bucking his hips up, Yuta helps you ride out your orgasm, brushing your hair back with one hand so he can still see your features.

"Yuta, I-"

"Shh," he coos, "I know, baby. Come for me, you're doing so good,"

At the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, his head collapses onto your shoulder. He nuzzles his face there, biting his lip and praying he can hold off his own orgasm until you've finished enjoying yours.

But it's so, so hard. With the way you're panting in his ear, squeaking out little words and praises that are unintelligible, nails clawing at his back, cunt squeezing him, he can't resist anymore. He comes inside of you with a shudder.

Even when he's overstimulated he keeps going until he's entirely sure you've come down from your high. Only then, does he pull out of you.

"Holy shit," you whimper.

"I love you," he reminds you, still short of breath.

You smile down at him, brushing away a sweaty strand of hair from his eyes. Your lips press down to his for a sweet kiss.

"I love you, too. So much."

"Let's clean you up, yeah? Stay here."

You nod as Yuta gets up, grabbing a white towel from the bathroom before returning to your side, gently spreading your legs and wiping you down.

"You wanna head back down to the pool?" you ask, turning to glance outside where the sun is no longer in the sky, "It's getting dark,"

"We have a pool right here." He reminds you, gesturing toward the infinity pool on the deck, "Besides," he starts, putting the towel of your mixed fluids in the bin, "I don't think I want Jaehyun seeing you in a bathing suit for the rest of the weekend."

You laugh, sitting up on the bed, "What about Mark? It's his birthday,"

"His birthday is tomorrow, not today."

"Okay," you nod, "Let's get in our pool,"

He hums and leans in, scooping you up into his arms and walking with you toward the door.

"Wait," you pull away, looking down at both of your naked bodies.

"What? You don't need a bathing suit for this pool,"

"Oh, is that right?" You giggle. Yuta nods, giving you another kiss and stepping down the pool steps, pulling you both into the water.

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requests r open :D

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