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itadores · 3 years

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math help.

note: surprise !!! it’s my comeback post

pairing: nanami kento x gn reader, itadori yuuji & gn reader, itadori yuuji & nanami kento

word count: 2k

genre/warnings: fluff, slice of life au, dad nanami, parent reader, child itadori

“how was school today, yuuji?”

the question you pose to your son as he clamors into the car and buckles his seatbelt is innocent, but the pink-haired boy heaves a great, big sigh in response.

“‘s okay,” he mumbles. as soon as the car door closes, he props his arm up on the armrest and stares out the window, gazing at the scenery as you begin to pull out of his school’s parking lot.

you raise a brow, looking at your baby’s reflection through the rearview mirror of your car. that’s unusual. yuuji normally loves telling you about every aspect of his day, no matter how minute the detail is. you don’t mind how much he rambles. you enjoy listening to your son happily blab about the antics he, megumi, and nobara got up to during his time at school or how gojo-sensei did something silly again. you like how animated yuuji gets when he talks; it’s adorable. so, for him to be so quiet is concerning.

“what’s wrong, baby? did something bad happen at school today?” you calmly question. you try to keep your voice free of any worry, but when you see yuuji nod his head yes, your nerves sky-rocket. you instantly enter protective mode. did someone say something mean to your baby? you’ll kill them if they made him upset.

you take a deep breath and refocus your attention on the road. there’s no need to get so worked up before you know what the issue is. “what happened, yuuji?”

your son sighs again. the anticipation builds and builds until he throws his hands into the air and dramatically says “we learned math today and i don’t get any of it.” he fists his pink hair and tugs on the strands like he’s about ready to rip them out.

you let out a relieved exhale. you restrain your laughter because you don’t want yuuji to think you’re making light of his issues, but you can’t help the smile that begins to spread across your lips. it looks like you got all worked up over nothing.

“yuuji, don’t pull on your hair like that, you’ll go bald,” you gently chide. he immediately releases his hair at the possibility that he could go bald! yuuji would rather not lose all his hair, thank you very much. “do you have math homework, baby?”

yuuji nods again. “gojo-sensei gave us a worksheet to do, but i don’t get it. how am i supposed to do the homework if i don’t get it?” yuuji becomes increasingly more agitated with each word, his voice rising in volume.

you let your son voice all his worries before speaking. when you stop at a red light, you glance over your shoulder at your son to give him a reassuring look.

“you can ask your papa to help with your homework tonight,” you suggest.

yuuji immediately perks up at the idea. his brown eyes go all round. “you think papa will help me?” he hopefully asks.

you chuckle. as if kento would ever turn yuuji down. “of course, yuuji. how about you ask him when we get inside?” you say as you pull into your driveway.

“papa’s home?!” yuuji squeals. with his clumsy little hands, he tries to undo his seatbelt as quick as he can, but his fingers can’t locate the button to unfasten his seatbelt in his haste.

you quickly undo your seatbelt, hopping out of the car and opening up the car door where yuuji’s sitting. you reach around his body to press the button to unlock his seatbelt. as soon as yuuji is free from the restraints, he scrambles out of his booster seat and makes a run for the front door.

“yuuji, slow down,” you playfully scold. you scoop up his forgotten backpack that lies in the backseat, shut the door, lock your car, and walk toward the entrance of your home. yuuji impatiently bounces up and down, jamming his pointer finger against the doorbell to make it open up faster.

before you can tell yuuji to exercise a little bit of patience or whip your house key out, the door swings open, revealing the man of the hour.

“papa!” yuuji excitedly shouts, throwing himself with reckless abandon at the blond man. kento, ever ready for anything, bends down and easily catches his little spitfire with open arms.

“hello, yuuji.” kento greets with a small, amused smile. your husband turns his attention to you. “hello, love.”

you gently usher your boys out of the doorway and further inside your home, so you can shut the front door behind you. “hi, sweetheart.”

you punctuate the end of your sentence by pressing a chaste kiss to kento’s lips. yuuji scrunches his face into disgust at the display of affection. “ew. that’s gross,” he says while wriggling his small body, still held in kento’s arms, between you.

you fondly roll your eyes, grinning. “you’re gross from being at school all day.” you bop yuuji on the nose, causing him to go cross-eyed for a moment. “go wash your hands, stink bug. also, don’t forget that you wanted to ask your papa something.”

“i am not stinky,” yuuji whines, squirming around in kento’s arms until your husband carefully lowers him down to the ground. despite his adamant protest that he does not stink, yuuji follows your directions and bounds down the hallway, making his way to the restroom to wash up.

with the two of you alone in the hallway now, kento looks at you with a raised brow. “ask me something?” he parrots.

you snake an arm around kento’s waist, pulling the man closer so you can give him a quick peck on the cheek. “nothing bad, i promise, but i’ll let yuuji ask you,” you reassure. releasing your hold on kento, you traverse down the hallway toward the kitchen to make an easy snack for yuuji. you drop yuuji’s backpack on the dining table when you pass by it.

kento trails after you, loosely wrapping his arms around you from behind as you stand near the countertop. you hum and pluck an apple from the bowl, rolling it around in your palm to feel if it’s ripe enough. you can cut up some apple slices for yuuji’s afternoon snack. knowing him, he’ll probably want to eat them with some caramel sauce.

“sweetheart, could you pass me—”

a cutting board followed by a knife magically appears in your vision. you take them and place them down on the countertop in front of you. you lean back to press a kiss to kento’s jaw. “thank you, kento.”

kento softly smiles, brushing his lips against your forehead. “you’re welcome.”

from the kitchen area, you and kento can hear the running water of the faucet in the bathroom suddenly cease. not long after, yuuji bursts through the room.

“papa.”

kento detaches himself from you and makes his way around the counter to get to yuuji’s side.

“yes, yuuji?”

kento bends his knees and lowers himself to the hardwood floor to make himself only slightly taller than yuuji instead of standing at his full height and towering over the boy. yuuji places his little hands on kento’s shoulders to force the man to look him straight in the eyes. yuuji does his best to paste on a serious look, but it’s much too cute with his adorably chubby cheeks. kento dons a serious look as well, but his eyes are soft as he gazes at his son.

“i need help with my math homework,” yuuji states.

“okay. why don’t we move to the table, and you can show me what you need help with?” nanami propositions.

yuuji’s eyes light up, and he responds with a determined nod before bouncing away toward the dining table. you watch from your place near the kitchen island as kento pushes himself off of the ground. his joints audibly creak, and a light wince crosses his face.

“looks like you’re getting old, old man,” you tease, pausing from your task of cutting up apple slices for yuuji.

kento places his hands on his lower back to stretch out his muscles and tosses you a flat look your way. “we’re the same age.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night,” you airily say with a flourish of your hand. you make a shooing motion at kento. “now, go help our son with his homework.”

the corner of his lip curls upward, and kento turns and walks to go take a seat across from yuuji at the dining table.

you refocus on the task at hand and continue cutting up apple slices for yuuji. once you’re content with how many wedges you have, you set down the knife and open up the fridge to search for the caramel sauce that yuuji is so fond of. when you spot the container you’re looking for, you’re quick to grab it along with the plastic container of grapes.

turning on the faucet, you rinse the container of grapes under the running spray of water. once you think they’re clean enough, you turn off the water and begin to organize the array of fruits neatly onto a plate with a small dish of caramel sauce to the side. you dry off your hands with a hand towel, put everything away back in its place, and grab the plate to bring to yuuji.

the sight that greets you when you gently nudge the door to the dining room wide open melts your heart. yuuji is bent over his worksheet, face screwed in intense concentration, as he tightly fists a pencil in one hand. kento is sat beside him, idly watching yuuji attempt to solve one of the problems printed in black ink.

“i just don’t get it, papa!” yuuji whines. his brows furrow together and his eyes bore into the piece of paper laid out in front of him as if the answer will magically come to him.

“which part do you not understand?” kento calmly asks.

“all of it!” yuuji says, voice full of distress. he tosses his hands up into the air to further emphasize his point.

kento places a large hand on yuuji’s back to help ground him. he rubs his palm up and down in a comforting manner. “that’s okay, yuuji. we can go over it again together until you understand the concept,” kento says, ever so patient.

you take this as an opportunity to butt into the conversation. “how about you take a quick break before you try again, yuuji?” yuuji and kento both look your way at the unexpected sound of your voice. you raise the hand that’s balancing the plate. “i brought you a little snack.”

yuuji looks at kento, waiting for the assurance that it’s okay if he takes a break.

“we can try again after you’ve eaten.”

with his permission, yuuji happily shoves one of the apple slices you’ve cut up into his mouth as soon as you set the dish down onto the table.

“make sure you chew with your mouth closed, baby,” you remind yuuji as you take a seat across from him and kento. you love your son to bits, but he is the messiest eater you know. with his mouth full of mashed apples, he gives you a little thumbs up.

when yuuji’s done with his snack, you whisk the plate away. you stand up and move to the other side of the table to place a kiss on yuuji’s forehead, ruffling his unruly hair, and then press another kiss to the top of kento’s head.

“good luck on math, you two. i know you’ll get it in no time, baby! you have a great teacher, after all.” you end your sentence with an exaggerated wink directed at kento, which prompts yuuji to giggle. kento doesn’t outwardly laugh, but you can see the amusement shining in his eyes.

“thank you, love,” kento says as you exit the room. love overflows in your chest as you clean the dirty dishes in the kitchen. you know that kento would patiently explain the concept over and over again to yuuji until he understood it. he would never raise his voice at him or grow frustrated with his lack of understanding. kento’s just that type of dad- a wonderful one.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #itadori fluff #nanami kento fluff #itadori yuuji fluff #new.mail #from.jujutsu kaisen #love.itadori yuuji #love.nanami kento

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

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Fic: Make Your Bed, Then Lie In It (part 2)

Part 1

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Equalizer 2

Ships: Dave York x fem!reader

Additional tags/warnings: Infidelity (I do not condone cheating, I just wanted to make Dave and Reader as bad people as possible), (forced) voyeurism (auralism?), derogatory language/pet names, blindfolding, light bondage, forced orgasms/squirting, face fucking, belting, use of safewords, rough PiV sex without protection.

Summary: You work with Dave both at the CIA and outside of it, and you have a secret, sexual relationship with him. When he makes you wear a vibrator in your panties during an important meeting, things escalade in a way you could not have foreseen…

a/n: Thanks to @just-here-for-the-moment for the beta and ramblings by way of email! You made my night! And as always, @apascalrascal has patiently listened to me rave on about fic and writing and smut and god knows, so a big, consensual mwah to you!

He calls you at ten past eight from his work phone, when you’re driving home. You hit the answer button on the steering wheel and answer with your last name, as per the agreement.

"Mute the phone, stay on the line, no touching," he tells you without preamble before background noise tells you that he's putting the phone down. Then you hear Carol's voice.

“Who was that?”

“Work. Dammit, honey… I’m sorry, I have to go.” He sounds so sincere, so apologetic. You hear a rustle of clothes and then a kiss. “You got me all riled up, too.”

You hear his wife moan softly. “Dave… we have time for a quick one, don’t we?”

He groans before you hear the soft smack of a kiss. “You want to?”

You can almost see her nodding. Who wouldn’t want to? You start to tremble as you realize what’s about to happen. Fuck. Dave, you absolute fucking asshole, you can’t be serious…

He gets her off with his fingers first and you swear that he’s not only addressing her when he talks about her sweet little wet pussy; he’s also talking to you. You hear the wet squishy sounds and her heated moans and it’s so wrong, you almost feel sorry for Carol, you shouldn’t be listening to this but fuck, it may be wrong but it’s so fucking hot, you can’t not listen to it, you drink in every word he breathes about the wet pussy, come on my fingers, baby, that’s a good girl. She cums in muted moans, no doubt thinking about not waking up their two daughters, asleep in their rooms down the hall.

“I want you in me,” she whimpers and it pulls an even louder whimper from you. If you were in the same room as Carol and Dave right now, you would probably put a bullet in her skull just to be fucked by that cock.

He fucks her fast and hard while talking dirty to her. You note that he uses completely different words than he uses with you. He would never call you a good girl or his wife a whore. But you lap it all up, despite not being your kind of language: his words, her sounds, the slap of skin against skin, the rhythmic rustling of the sheets, the occasional creak of the bedframe. These extremely private sounds invade your car through its speakers, and you crank up the volume to catch every single filthy sound. Your pussy is weeping and you feel dizzy with how absolutely disgustingly horny you are. You probably shouldn’t be driving but you know you can’t stop because you’d probably end up fucking the shifter.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Carol orgasms a second time and right after, Dave announces his climax with a grunt. Judging from Carol’s subsequent gasp, he must have thrust into her quite viciously, and it makes you moan out loud. FUCK.

“You think that’ll keep you satisfied for tonight?” Dave murmurs to his wife and you run a red light, earning blares from several car horn. You don’t care. If you get pulled over, you’ll just flash your CIA credentials.

You just need to get home.

The call is ended and the music you were listening to returns at full blast. You lower the volume and gnash your teeth as you hit the turn signal and slow down. Your apartment building has an underground garage and for a short moment you consider helping yourself once you’re in your parking spot.

But Dave would notice. And besides, it’s a lot more fun like this.

You get a text when you’re in the elevator. Take out the box. I want you in bed, naked, cuffed, and blindfolded.

You swallow hard. As you leave the elevator and walk down the hall to your front door, you feel like you’ve peed your pants, that’s how wet the crotch of your panties is. When you finally come inside and start to strip, you see that your pants have a wet patch as well.

You put the box of sex toys on the foot end of the bed and open it. The cuffs are CIA issued; you took those from work. The silky blindfold shines in the soft light and you shed the last pieces of clothing and climb into bed. Familiar with the accessories, you blindfold yourself before cuffing yourself to the headboard. The key is between your lips and will stay there until Dave comes and takes it from you.

You wait, your body burning with want. You know that the time is precisely nine pm when you hear the lock of your front door click. Dave has a key. You know he could have had one made without your knowing about it, but he waited until you gave him one.

You hear his footfalls come closer and you spread your legs a little to show off the glistening slick on your inner thighs.

There’s a drop in the mattress when he sits on the edge of the bed. Your breathing grows slightly shallow as you wait, absolutely hurting for his touch. You sense his breathe against your face and it makes you flinch.

“I got you,” he murmurs before his lips pick up the key from between yours with a brief kiss that despite its innocence feels like fire.

That’s all you get for now and you whine his name when he gets up from the bed.

“You haven’t touched yourself, have you?” he asks, as if he didn’t know the answer. You hear a soft clink when he puts the key on the bedside table.

“I haven’t,” you confirm, desperately fighting the urge to close your legs and rub your thighs together for at least some kind of friction. Hot and cold shivers run up and down your spine and you know you’ll go batshit crazy if you don’t get to cum soon.

“I believe you.” You hear the smile in his voice. “I could smell your cunt the second I walked in. I didn’t expect a cock-hungry little slut like you to obey me, but I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“That’s certainly the pot calling the kettle black,” you spit back. “Who was so hungry for pussy they had to fuck their spouse with their lover listening in?”

“You’re not my lover, you’re my whore,” he reminds you calmly. “And just for that, you can forget about me eating you out.”

You hear his belt buckle come undone and right after, the hiss of his leather belt pulled through the hoops of his dress pants. Soon after, he swats you high up on your inner thigh with the belt. You wince as you cry out, more from surprise than pain.

“Legs together.” You obey eagerly and he buckles your thighs together with the belt.

“Do I have to check the cuffs?” he asks you and you shake your head.

“They’re good and tight.”

“You’re learning. I honestly didn’t think you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself,” he muses while he makes sure you can’t separate your legs, “but since you did, I’m going to let you cum right away.”

He takes something from the box and puts his hand on your knee.

“As many times as you want.”

He pulls up the belt and slides something under it. Your wand.

Now, the small, secret panty vibrator may not have done anything to you, but the wand is an entirely different affair. The wand will not only make you cum, but it will also make you squirt, and multiple times.

And Dave is strapping it to your legs and pushing the head against your dripping pussy, angling it so it’s just underneath your clit, just barely touching.

“Have fun,” he tells you, and switches it on.

The vibrations immediately make your thigh muscles contract, and you exhale in a long moan as you try to hump the wand, longing for the release it’ll provide.

“You really did wait,” Dave comments with satisfaction and you can only whimper where you lie, arms cuffed above your head, legs bound together, body writhing as the stimulation draws all your fire to that one spot between your legs. Pressure starts to build instantly and your body tenses up, every muscle clenching as you moan and move in a feeble attempt to get the sweet torture of the wand away from you but also try to get it closer.

“Dave,” you gasp, “oh God, Dave, fuck, I – I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

The first orgasm gushes out of you and soaks your thighs and the vibrator, which immediately sprinkles droplets all the way up to your chest. Through the wet drone of the wand and the blood rushing in your ears you hear Dave curse to himself in a low voice.

You don’t get to come down: the wand buzzes on and you start to build up again almost immediately.

“God,” you moan, arms struggling against the cuffs. “Oh God, fuck, oh God, Godddddd…”

“God can’t help you, beautiful,” Dave tells you, his voice eerily calm, almost indifferent. “Because he ain’t here.”

You squirt again with a helpless sob, soaking the sheets and yourself as the wand spreads your juices all over the place, like a pornographic sprinkler. You squirm to get some respite from the wand but as soon as you lose contact with it, Dave’s placing it back against you, much firmer this time.

“You wanted to cum. Now cum.”

You cry out as the round head of the wand continues to work your overstimulated clit. The handcuffs cut into your wrists and the chain between them rattles against the wooden bars of the headboard. All day you’ve thought you’re going to go mad from lack of stimulation, now you’re going mad from too much of it.

Being involved with Dave will lead to that. Everything is a game to him, a power play, a way of testing your limits. And so far, you haven’t broken.

Not even now. You let go of yourself, lean into the intensity, let it tear you apart time and again with no thought of what you and the sheets look like and how loud you are. Your pussy is burning, your whole body is burning, and you don’t care, you simply allow yourself to drown in the flames that somehow are both hot and wet, until Dave finally removes the wand and unbuckles the belt. By then you’re sobbing and shaking, and his touch makes you curl up.

“I got you, beautiful,” Dave soothes you, caressing the curve of your hip up to your waist. “Breathe. You did well.”

He’s not a caring person by nature so you appreciate the effort, and draw a deep, stuttering breath.

“Color?” Dave queries. You try to swallow but your mouth is too dry.

“Green,” you tell him weakly. “Just give me a moment.”

He surprises you with a swat to your pussy and you shriek.

“Fuck! Asshole!”

“You said green,” he replies coolly, and you bite back on another curse. You did say green.

“Is it still green?” You flinch when his fingers run down your inner thigh. You consider for a second before making up your mind.

“Still green,” you confirm. Thick, strong fingers dig into the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“Such a desperate slut. I'm going to enjoy fucking you.”

“You’re going to have to give me a minute first,” you ask him again. You get a chuckle in reply.

“Oh, beautiful. I’m not talking about fucking your cunt.” His dark voice is now dripping with desire and you know that if he were to ignore your overstimulated sex and just shove his dick into you, you would still thank him.

Motherfucker, how does he do it, how does he set you right back on fire with only a few, filthy words? He knows it and employs his skill frequently, has done so ever since you two first started to have these secret meetings. And you eat it up, bask in his sanctioned abuse of you, enjoy every orgasm, because you know this affair has an end date. It's not one of those things that can last. Fires like this one don't burn for long, they take it all, bright and fierce, and when they've used up all the oxygen in the room, they die quickly and without drama.

So you enjoy the flames while you can. You hear the rustling of fabric as Dave gets undressed and then you feel his thigh against yours when he sits down beside you. Next thing you know, his breath is on your face.

“I could smell you on my fingers all day,” he whispers before taking a kiss from you, fully, searingly. “Such a sweet, needy smell.” The kiss breaks and you lean forward, mouth open, wanting more.

“Keep that mouth nice and open for me.”

The mattress moves and then he straddles your chest. His hand comes to the back of your head, cradling it gently when he lifts and props you up with a pillow underneath. The strong, musky-warm scent of his cock invades your nostrils and makes your heart skip a beat.

“Open wide now, sweetheart. Make me feel good.”

The smooth, salty head of his cock touches your lips and your tongue darts out to swirl around it. The precum lies thick and you lick it off with a little smile, hearing Dave's breathing change.

“This what you want?” you rile him up in a low voice. “Want to fuck my mouth?”

“Tell me I can,” he grunts, seeking your permission first although you can tell from how tight his voice is that he's ready to snap.

“Fuck my mouth, Dave,” you allow, and he pushes the head between your lips, giving you a moment to adjust to having him in your mouth. You flatten out your tongue and press the length of it to the underside of his cock, and when he grabs you by your hair, you anticipate his next move and bob your head forward, taking in all of him, almost gagging when he bottoms out at the back of your throat. You've trained your gag reflex, but it still requires focus, and you start to salivate immediately.

“Fuck.” The word comes out strangled and tense as Dave withdraws. “H-headshake for red, okay, beautiful?” You love that you can make this intimidating man stutter. You hum to let him know you understand and accept, and he takes care to not hold your head so hard that you wouldn't be able to move it if you need to put a stop to this. You stick your tongue out underneath his cock and press it up against him, feeling every vein and ridge of him. You know the taste of his cock intimately but there's something unfamiliar about it tonight. Gradually, you realize that he must have not washed himself off after sex with his wife and it is in fact her flavor you're...

The thought that Dave went from fucking his wife just to tease you, to coming straight to you with his cock hard and ready to go again is a huge turn-on. You growl low in your throat and although you can't see anything, you sense the tremors that your vocal cords send throughout Dave's body. Before he can thrust into your throat again, you push the back of your tongue up to prevent access, not letting him pass further.

“Fuck,” he grunts again as he starts to fuck your mouth and within moments, you're drooling out the sides of your mouth. “Jesus, look at that filthy fucking mouth of yours, taking me so well. So fucking wet and sweet.”

You whine a little and he strokes your hair before taking a new grip on it. Your scalp stings just right and the ache between your legs is renewed. You need him in you, deep in your hungry pussy. But that's not where you're getting him, at least not yet. He's not done with your mouth.

The mask over your eyes is beginning to feel warm and you can only imagine what your makeup looks like underneath. Your mascara feels sticky, and the salt of dried tears are straining your skin, and new ones are forming in the corners of your eyes as Dave assaults your mouth. The dominion he has over you is so complete, but he never goes beyond what you can take. He's gentler than he seems, and he knows that if he slips up, this thing he has with you is over. Not just the sex, but also the other things you do together, outside of law and order. It's so fucked up that the most trusting relationship you've ever had with a man is this: fucking a married man that you work and kill with. But then again, normal relationships were never really your thing. It's difficult to build trust with another person when you kill people on the side.

Dave lets go of your hair and moves his hands to your shoulders instead, loosely closing his forefingers and thumbs around the base of your neck, remaining fingers spread out and digging into your shoulders. His thrusts turn more insistent, the slap of his balls against your chin rougher.

“That's it, take it,” he mutters above you, thumbs pressing lightly against your windpipe. “Take it, you filthy slut.”

You let him all the way in, taking him in your throat. His surprised groan is strangled with pleasure and the taste of cum grows stronger. He thrusts deep into you and curses in a low growl before pulling out completely and staining your face with hot, wet ropes of cum.

Panting loudly, you lick your lips, catching some of the salty, thick liquid on your tongue. Dave, still straddling your chest, hums low.

“That's a good look on you, beautiful,” he comments, a little short of breath himself. “Covered in my cum, tied up... I wish I could take a picture and use it as my background image.”

“I never said you can't,” you tease, earning a chuckle.

“Such a nasty bitch.”

The fine hairs on your arm rise when he trails a finger down your upper arm. “Arms okay?”

“Arms are okay,” you confirm. “Dave... I need you to fuck me.” Your request is eager and pregnant with the longing of your empty cunt. “You left me wanting your cock all day and when you finally give it to me, you don't even fuck my pussy. I need you in my pussy, baby.”

“You're just never happy, are you?” he sighs before getting off of you.

“What's the matter?” you taunt him. “Can fuck my whore mouth but not my cunt? Is it only your wife that gets that big cock of yours in her cunt?”

Dave exhales with an amused little scoff. “I know what you're trying to do, my cock-hungry slut.”

“Or maybe you just can't get it up a third time in one night?”

You hear him pick something up from the box of sex toys. His big hand strokes down your thigh when he sits down between your legs.

“Spread your fucking legs.” You obey him immediately, lower lip caught between your teeth. Please. Please, please, please...

“How are we for color?” he asks.

“Green.” Your answer is pathetically instantaneous, as is the swat Dave gives your pussy. You moan loudly and squirm until you feel the blunt head of your favorite dildo against your slick opening.

“Yes,” you whimper, “please, Dave…”

“So desperate for cock that anything works, right?” he growls before pushing the entire length of the dildo into you, making you arch your back and gasp at the sudden stretch. He immediately begins to fuck you with the toy and you’re keening, begging him to go harder. He curses low under his breath, and you hope he’s working himself hard again.

“Are you getting hard?” you whimper, arms straining against the cuffs. “You want to fuck my tight pussy, don’t you?”

“Beg for it,” he tells you, his voice icy with control and searing hot with want at the same time. “Beg, beautiful.”

He doesn’t need to tell you again: you beg, like you have never known pride.

“Ruin me,” you implore him, “I need you to fucking ruin me, Dave!”

“Fuck.” He pulls out the dildo and tosses it to the side, and you hear the rattle of the belt buckle.

“You squirted on my belt. The leather’s all stained.”

“I’m not the one who used it to bind my thighs together,” you remind him feebly, catching your breath and preparing to beg for him to finish you.

“You know I can’t show up at home with a belt filled with stains from your dirty cunt.”

“But you can show up here with your cock stained by your wife’s angelic little vagina?” Your voice drips with sweet sarcasm because you know it’s going to make him punish you. You’re right: he slaps your thigh, making you flinch. But that wasn’t the punishment he had in mind.

“How about this, you dirty whore: I give your sweet little ass two strikes with this belt that you ruined, and then I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll never let anyone else but me fuck you ever again.”

You swallow, muscles trembling in trepidation. You’ve never been struck with a belt before but by God, you want him to do it.

Slowly, you nod. “Spank my ass with your belt, Dave.”

“Turn over.”

He helps you to roll over onto your stomach and you rest your face on top of your arms, body tingling, your cunt throbbing, buttocks ready.

“Remember your colors,” Dave tells you, his voice almost gentle now, and then you hear the prong jingle against the metal frame the split second before the leather lands across your buttocks. The sting is so much different from that of a palm, it burns hot and the pain knocks both voice and breath out of you, only growing and spreading for each second that passes after the strike itself.

“Yellow,” you choke, panicking for the first time. It’s so intense, so unexpectedly painful and raw.

The belt falls to the floor and Dave's hand is on your shoulder, his voice close to your ear. “Do you want me to uncuff you and take the mask off?”

“No...” you hesitate and take a deep breath, tasting the pain and almost gagging on it. “No... I... I'm good. But please don't do that again.”

“I won't,” he promises, his fingers dancing down your spine, up the curve of your ass and down between your butt cheeks. “Breathe, beautiful. You got this. I got you.”

You hate the feeling of having failed to deal with the pain but cherish the care Dave demonstrates when making sure you're okay. He may fuck you like he's a heartless asshole, but he would never hurt you - unless you asked him to.

“Was it too hard?” he asks quietly. Is that regret in his voice? You can't be really sure.

“Maybe, I don't know. I just didn't think it would feel... like that.”

The pain is now subsiding into a more manageable throbbing and you clench your buttocks, feeling a faint sting. The adrenaline is starting to flood your body.

“It's okay,” you tell him in a soft moan. “Please... I still need you to fuck me.”

Dave puts his hand on your right buttock and squeezes, making the welt heat up. You hiss at the sting, more delicious than sore now.

“Fuck...” You lift your ass up into his palm and hum when he grips your flesh again. “Dave... fuck me like you hate me.”

“You sure you can take it?” he breathes, and now there's a hint of taunting in his voice. “You sure you can take my cock?”

“Why don't you find out?” you dare him in a low moan when he grabs you by the back of the neck.

He fucks you into the mattress, methodically and roughly, the snap of his hips against your buttocks causing a titillating sting which you now embrace as he pistons into you. Your face is pressed against the sheets and it's for the best because his harsh onslaught is making you cry out desperately. He's so deep, he's so hard, he's so strong, you can feel him in every fibre of your being and you're loving it, the pleasure bordering on pain bringing you ever closer to a climax which you hope will be your last one because you won't be able to take any more after this.

“You made me do this,” Dave growls between his short huffs of breath. “You made me fuck your wet, filthy cunt like this, with your slutty behavior today. You made your bed, now fucking lie in it. I would have taken you on my desk, but I can never trust on you to keep your filthy fucking mouth shut.”

You only wail in reply, the thought of being fucked in the office turning you on so much it almost hurts you more than his assault on your oversensitive pussy.

“Maybe I should fuck you in front of the brass next time, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Rip open your shirt and have your tits out, bend you over the conference table and take you from behind like I'm doing now, show everyone what a whore you are...”

“Fuck, Dave...!” you whimper as your brain begins to black out and you’re nothing but body and sensation. The deep, fast grind is casting you out further and further into the darkness and Dave’s hands on your shoulders are your only lifeline. The way he claims you is primitive, messy, and nasty, and you love it, you love it so much because yes, you’re his whore, his cumslut, and you want him to go faster, harder, deeper, fuck you like he’d never fuck his wife, fuck you like no man has ever fucked you or ever will, only David fucking York can fuck you like this –

The orgasm is an explosion that tears you apart, soundless on the outside but deafening on the inside: your limbs and organs and mind are scattered all over the place and you couldn’t be happier. You wouldn’t notice Dave finishing if he bend down over you to suck a toothy brand of ownership into your shoulder as he empties himself with a couple of final, devastating thrusts that make you whine.

“Take my cum,” he mutters before his teeth snag another piece of flesh between them, drawing another whimper from you. “Nasty bitch, take my cum.”

He doesn’t always finish inside you and every time he does it, it’s a form of praise. You love the warm stickiness of it, the feeling of it oozing out between your swollen lips, staining your skin and the sheets…

You’re only vaguely aware of it now, and how he releases your wrists from the cuffs. Your arms leave where they are, too heavy from divine sexual exhaustion to move. Dimly, you hear him turn off the lights before he returns to bed and carefully removes your blindfold. You blink, your lashes sticking together with smeared-out mascara, tears, and sweat. The bedroom is almost dark, only the lamp on the nightstand is spreading a soft light from behind you, but it’s still almost too much for your sensitive eyes.

“Easy.” Dave comes back from the bathroom and crawls into bed, into your field of vision. “Talk to me.”

“Can’t,” you mumble, your eyes falling shut again as another ripple of lingering pleasure runs through you.

“Good, that means I did my job right.”

You want to laugh but all you can muster is a sound somewhat reminiscent of a scoff. Dave nudges your shoulder and you force your eyes open. He’s holding a glass of water to you. With a labored sigh and limbs as heavy as the sins you’ve just committed, you prop yourself up on your elbows and accept it. Greedily, you empty the entire glass in one go before slumping back down into the soiled but oh so soft sheets.

“How’s your ass? You want me to put something on it?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

“Can I use your shower?” Dave asks, and you smile softly. He’s asking. He knows full well you’re capable of sending him home to his wife smelling of cum and sweat, and still he asks.

“Go ahead,” you allow. He trails his fingers down your spine quickly before getting up.

You doze off to the soft drizzle of the shower that travels from the bathroom into the bedroom, and jerk back to consciousness when Dave returns and touches your leg.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for surprising you. “I gotta go.”

“Sure,” you mumble as you will your muscles into working for you. Gingerly, you sit up, testing how well your ass takes to sitting, and finding it manageable. Dave gives you a lopsided grin as he pulls his pants on and you hand him the belt.

“You look thoroughly fucked, beautiful,” he tells you, not without pride. “I’m sorry to leave you. I’d like to just look at you for at least a couple of hours.”

“Needs must,” you shrug, not really keen on having him stay anyway. It’s not a part of your deal, and you need to sleep. “Thanks for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He buttons his shirt and grabs his jacket before ducking down to give you a possessive kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head.

“Delicious,” he murmurs, tugging on your hair a little before letting go. He’s by the bedroom door when you call his name, making him stop and turn around. “Yeah?”

Your makeup is smudged, your body is covered with sweat and cum, your hair is a mess, but there is no mistaking the gravity in your voice when you speak.

“Don’t ever try to fuck with me before a big meeting again. I’ve worked too hard and for too long to let someone like you jeopardize my career. Do you understand, David?”

He lifts his chin slightly as he takes in your words, his eyes narrowing when he looks at you. You know what he’s capable of, you’ve seen him snap people’s necks, put bullets in the backs of people’s heads. And yet, you are not afraid of him. You’ve never been afraid of him.

“Understood,” he finally confirms with a nod. “Good night, beautiful.”

#my fic #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfic #dave york #dave york fanfic #dave york x reader #dave york x you

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

Text

ＢａｃｋＴｏＹｏｕ (ＳａｍＷｉｌｓｏｎｘＦ!Ｒｅａｄｅｒ)

📎Word Count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: some heckin’ words. Bucky’s in this, he’s a bit annoying (affectionately) <3 MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: omg my first Sam fic! i wanna thank my boo @babyboibucky for enabling me hsakjdhak ily! this is for you, bee!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

📎 Follow the story: Back To You, Dimples, Inked

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky says, annoyed that Sam has been looking down on his phone, remotely giving attention to their conversation.

Sam grins, fingers dancing over the keyboard on the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Something about motel rooms—or beds.”

“I said that they gave us two beds in one room,” the former spots their door number, quickly walking to it. The tactical bag swinging over his cybernetic arm freely.

The night was warm, the air blew the ocean mist towards the town. The parking lot is empty save for a black sedan that’s already been through a lot. They chose to stay low instead of getting a room at a decent hotel close by–something about them not likening the crowd.

Once inside, both men cleared the room in 30 seconds flat. The window opens out, the door stays closed and locked. The TV has to be on but kept on low volume. The beds are made, it’s clean; beats the flat beds on the plane.

Sam throws his bag over to the bed closest to the window, calling dibs. “Hey, you got headphones?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky answers, settling his things below the foot of the bed, “why?” He catches Sam again smiling giddily over something, “what you got a girl there or something?”

“It’s none of your business,” Sam retorts, quirking his eyebrow upwards, “well? Do you have headphones?”

“If you listened to me, you would’ve heard me say ‘no.’”

Bucky should’ve had brought headphones. Sam has been droning on and on with a ‘friend’ over on a video call.

Not that he’s eavesdropping and nosy but he saw how Sam lit up when a voice came in from his phone.

“Hey, Sammy! I finally get to see your face.” You say, your voice crackling over Sam’s speakers, “am I on speaker right now?”

Sam smiles, focusing on your background and seeing pictures and posters plastered on the wall, “oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot my earphones somewhere.”

“What? Old man Barnes rubbing off on you?” You laugh, your glasses reflecting your laptop’s screen. Your joke sending Sam into a laughing fit.

“You know he’s in the room, right?” Sam clarifies as he turns the camera to Bucky, much to the former’s dismay. But despite himself, Bucky waves to the camera.

“Heard a lot about you, Barnes! Hope you’re ready for frequent bathroom trips from this one.”

Sam faces you again, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Shut up or I’m gonna drop the call.”

You quickly send him an emoji via text, Sam rolling his eyes as you giggle. “Anyway, since you can’t join in on the fun, you’ll be my audience tonight.”

Sam gives you a confused look, a hint of crease appearing between his brows. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

A fake gasp and an overdramatic show of hurt had him chuckling, “You already forgot the karaoke night you promised me, didn’t you?”

He grins apologetically and looks at the camera, as if looking into your eyes, “I’m sorry. Been busy these past few weeks.”

You smile softly, the imagery giving Sam a burst of butterflies in his tummy, “it’s okay. I was just being dramatic. I got that from you, you know.”

You are not a good singer. But you confidently belt out the highest of notes like one. Complete with hand gestures, you hold out the last note of the song.

“Thank you,” you bow down to your imaginary crowd off-camera, “I’ll be here all night.”

“On god, please don’t,” Sam interjects with a tender smile and soft eyes.

“Sammy!” Your eyes glazing over your screen, a deep pang of homesickness hitting you, “I missed this. I missed you.”

He nods, his lips pressed tightly as he tries to find the words to respond, “I missed you too, bub.”

A soft note of a love song sounds over your speaker, traveling to his, “you love this song.”

Sam nods, reminiscing the moments he had with you during college. The one time you almost kissed—where are these memories and feelings coming from?! “Yeah, and---”

The doorbell rings on your end. Your eyes glinting as you stand up. Food delivery!

“Hold that thought, Sammy. My food’s here,” you say, your voice faint as you’re practically halfway through the door.

“She is a god-awful singer,” Bucky expresses, “but you love her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sam quickly taps a button on his screen—stupid Bucky and his stupid mouth. He covers his phone’s mouthpiece as if that could help, “shut the hell up.”

Sam’s changed demeanor confirms Bucky’s growing suspicion, “so you do love her!”

The latter glances at the empty screen, hoping you didn’t hear anything. Or maybe, he does?

The only sign of life from your end is the sound of various utensils cluttering and a metal bowl falling to the floor, making both men wince at the sudden noise.

Sam lowers the volume of his phone, facing Bucky from their respective beds.

“Shit,” Sam exclaims, running a hand over his handsome face, “maybe I do.”

This time, he finally lets himself go through the memories you made together before he left for the military.

The coffee dates, the late-night calls, the breakfast hangouts, the study sessions. You light up even the most boring of things. The texture of your skin, the sound of your laugh, the twinkle in your eyes bring Sam into a warm place.

You make him feel enough. You see him through and through.

Oh shit, he is in love with you.

Bucky just looks at him, boring holes in his face, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “You really just realized, just now?” Sam’s not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

“The way you talk about her. The way you talk to her. You see her and the things she like everywhere we go and you realize it just now?” So, it is a rhetorical question.

The revelation leaves Sam amused but unable to form words, “I… Do–I do love her. I’m in love with my best friend.”

A silent beat drops in the room—save for the faint hello? coming from Sam’s phone.

Ah, fuck.

Bucky put on his jacket planning to head out (to the motel’s ice machine) to give you two privacy. He bids Sam good luck and you a good night before walking towards the door.

As soon as the door shuts, Sam increases the volume on his phone again.

“Sam?” You call out, “I can’t see you, your cam’s off.”

In panic, he realizes that he tapped the wrong button—maybe Old Man Barnes had rubbed off on him.

You smile and sat up a little bit straighter when his face lights up your screen again.

“So… how much did you hear about the whole thing?” Sam wants to tread carefully around the subject, the first time he feels uncomfortable opening up to you.

He fully expects you to dismiss the topic, turn in for the night, and leave him lamenting about his feelings. And he’s somehow okay with it.

“Kinda, everything.” You confess, there’s nothing holding you back now, “I, you know-- I’m glad you got ‘round it. Even if it took you years.”

Another pin drops inside Sam’s head, “what do you mean?”

“Look, I confessed to you before we graduated but you never acknowledged it. So, I never brought it up again.” Even miles apart, Sam’s presence was around you. The bracelet he gave you during junior year, his favorite mug you borrowed from him, a ton of his shirts and hoodies that he gave to you before moving out after graduation.

“You confessed to me? When?” Sam racks his brain for the smallest of details, for the quietest of whispers.

“I wrote you a letter. Remember? I slipped it under your door after finals week.”

After all these years, Sam never quite found out who wrote him that letter, “you never signed it.”

Sam didn’t expect you to laugh, to double over such a serious conversation, “dude, I did, I signed it. Why would I send you a deep proclamation of love without signing it?”

“It was written on pink paper, right? I still have it. You wanna bet that you don’t have your name on it?”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, heat creeping up your cheeks, “oh my god, are you serious? I didn’t sign it?”

Sam laughs softly, his eyes crinkling the same way. There are lines decorating his eyes but he was still your Sam.

“No, ma’am.” He declares, the air somehow lighter now, “if you did, I would’ve said something.”

A hum escapes your lips, curling into a gentle smile, “good to know.”

The comfortable silence envelops the room, years of yearning and pining finally coming to end.

“Hey, after this mission - I was thinking if you want to go out. Catch up and you know, finally, talk in person.” Sam asks, there’s still a tiny voice inside his head not believing the talk that had transpired.

“I’d love that, Sam.”

The sentiment crashes and closes in on itself as Bucky barges into the room, holding a bucket of ice in one hand and a pack of beer in the other, “congratulations, idiots.”

#bitchasbucky writes #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x reader fluff #sam wilson x reader angst #sam wilson x reader smut #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson smut

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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

intoxicated.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x f!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1738

remarks: awful writing that i needed to get out of my system because god the idea is cute but the execution is a mess

The sudden knocking at your front door startles you from your slumber.

Awake but still groggy with sleep, you take a moment to peek at the clock hanging on the wall - it’s already one in the morning. You must have fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Kyoujurou to return home, the movie that you’d left playing on the television has been replaced by a list of credits rolling endlessly. Just as you’re about to let out another yawn, the knocking at the door resumes again, causing you to jump.

“Who is it?” You call, a little cautiously. It’s not like Kyoujurou to knock before he enters. If he were trying to announce his return home, it would more likely come in the form of a lively ‘I’m home, darling!’ or a surprise attack of smothering kisses and hugs. Not to mention how late at night it is… Slightly worried now, you reach for the heavy umbrella stand in the corner of the living room cautiously...

“Yo, open up before I leave your husband in the corridor!” To your surprise, the voice that answers your question is an unexpected but familiar one, dispelling any fear you have. You hurry to unlock the door, and once it swings open, Uzui Tengen’s massive frame fills the doorway of your apartment, a large shape slung over one of his broad shoulders. Bemused at this strange sight at your doorstep so late into the night, you squint a bit at the baggage Tengen is carrying before your eyes widen.

“Kyoujurou!”

“Right, where do you want me to drop off this sad sack of potatoes?” Without further explanation Tengen marches into your house, Kyoujurou still hoisted over his shoulder. Still at a loss to what’s going on, you gesture at the couch that you had been asleep on just a few moments prior, and Tengen proceeds to dump his colleague onto it unceremoniously. The two of you watch as Kyoujurou lets out a grumble at the sudden rough handling, fidgeting a bit on the couch before he falls still once more, eyes firmly shut. There’s a telltale crimson flush on his cheeks.

You turn to Tengen, who’s adjusting his jeweled headband with a hand and checking his hair in your mirror. “He’s completely drunk, isn’t he?”

Kyoujurou isn’t the type to drink, much less get inebriated to this extent. After growing up with a rather negative impression of alcohol, Kyoujurou strictly limits his own intake of it - never more than one or two glasses, and only during special occasions such as anniversaries or weddings. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Kyoujurou imbibing enough alcohol to get this intoxicated.

Your husband’s friend and colleague only shrugs, looking totally unrepentant with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, it was results’ day for the academy today, and it turns out that not a single student failed history.” Surprised, you look down at Kyoujurou again. He’d been working so hard throughout the revision period, coming home later than usual and even skipping meals on occasion to tutor weaker students. Although Kyoujurou always claims that it’s not hard on him, you’re glad that his efforts have paid off so wonderfully. “So the teachers decided to hit the bar to celebrate, and at one point he mistook Shinazugawa’s vodka for water… yeah. Your husband really has no alcohol tolerance at all.”

You laugh a little, sitting next to Kyoujurou and resting the back of your hand on his cheek. “Well, you’re not wrong. Thanks for bringing him back, Tengen.” At your touch, Kyoujurou makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat, hands clasping yours and pressing it tighter against his cheek. With how warm he is, your hand probably feels like a refreshing ice pack to him. Tengen only makes a gagging noise.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves it off casually, sticking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before he turns to leave. “It’s getting late, so I better get back to my own family before they start worrying. I’ll lock the door on the way out, so you can just focus on taking care of that guy over there. See ya.”

You wave to him on his way out, and when the door clicks shut behind him, you look back at Kyoujurou, eyes gentle. His hair has come unbound (probably due to Tengen’s rough handling), a crimson and gold mess strewn over the couch. His normally pressed white shirt is wrinkled. With a faint smile, you shake your head before you reach for his tie, intending on undoing it so that you can put him to bed.

The second your fingers touch the knot of his tie, however, a pair of strong hands wrap around yours, stopping you in your tracks. Surprised, you look up at Kyoujurou, realising that his eyes have opened a crack as he looks blearily at you. “Ah, you’re awake?”

“M’ sorry but…” his words come out slightly slurred, and you have to strain your ears to make out what he’s saying. “But I'm… already married…”

You blink at him, momentarily amused. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” The volume of his declaration almost makes you jump, and you hurry to shush him before he can wake up all of the neighbours, hands pressed over his mouth. “So…” he waves a finger in front of your face wildly, a big frown on his lips. “No… funny business… Okay?”

So this is what your husband is like when he’s drunk. Now that you’ve been made privy to such knowledge, you can’t help but think that you should get him drunk more often. He’s cute. “Okay, no funny business,” you agree, removing your hands from his tie and placing them in your lap, although all you want to do is run your fingers through his hair and kiss the man silly. “How about I call your wife to come get you, then?”

Kyoujurou shakes his head quickly, orange and gold strands flying about. “No, no, no, don’t… she’s probably… sleeping by now.” He waves at the clock with a clumsy hand before sagging back onto the couch with a groan. “Don’t wanna disturb.”

A smile touches the corner of your lips. Really, you’ll have to make up for all the times you’ve wanted to kiss him now tomorrow morning. “You must love your wife very much, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Another shouted declaration, and you hurry to muffle him with a pillow to the face. “Very much so! More than anything else! I- hmpgf mhph hmm…”

A small burst of laughter escapes you before you can stop it, and you have to cover your mouth with your hands to suppress your laughter. The pillow you had been holding earlier falls between the two of you. Kyoujurou looks taken aback, confused, then he pouts, almost childishly. “It’s true!” Kyoujurou insists, mistaking your laughter for disbelief. Holding up his left hand, Kyoujurou gestures at his ring finger energetically. “Look!”

You don’t need to look to know that his silver wedding band will be sitting there snugly, never having been taken off since your wedding day. “Wow, what a coincidence,” you say, deciding to humour him. Holding up your own left hand, you put your hands side to side by comparison. Your wedding bands shine in the dim light of the room next to each other. “Look, we match.”

Kyoujurou squints at the bands for a moment, before he turns his head to study your face. Then his expression suddenly lights up, a gigantic smile illuminating his face. “Darling!” The hug that he gives you nearly knocks you off the couch, the tips of his hair tickling your nose as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Drunk as he is, Kyoujurou’s hugs always make you feel the same way - loved, warm and protected.

“You silly oaf, I can’t believe you didn’t recognise me.” With a laugh, you reach up to ruffle his hair before you pull him to his feet, guiding him towards the bedroom. “Come on, let’s get you changed and tucked into bed.”

Kyoujurou whines, nuzzling the top of your head and both arms wrapped securely around your waist. “But I wanna keep hugging you,” he complains, then lets out a little yelp when you swat his ass firmly.

“Be a good boy and get changed first, then maybe I’ll cuddle you in bed.” With a pout, Kyoujurou loosens his embrace just enough for you to take a step back. Reaching up, you focus on undoing the knot of his tie, tossing it to the side before moving to undo the buttons of his work shirt. “This would be so much easier if you’d help me out, you know,” you say lightly to tease him, glancing up at him to see what he’s up to. To your surprise, Kyoujurou is watching you seriously with a strange intensity to his gaze. It’s not a look you see on him often. “Kyoujurou?”

Without a word, Kyoujurou leans forward abruptly - with no time to react, the next thing you feel is a pair of lips landing on yours gently. Taken by surprise, you can only stand still with your fingers lingering on the buttons of his shirt as Kyoujurou captures your mouth in a warm kiss. The long fingers cupping your jaw are gentle, as though you’re a precious thing that he can’t afford to break.

After a few seconds, Kyoujurou slowly pulls away, and when you finally look up, he’s grinning brightly at you once more. “Just wanted to do that!” Kyoujurou laughs, before he turns and flops onto the mattress, half unbuttoned shirt still clinging to his broad frame. Stunned by the mood swings that the alcohol has brought on, you stare at him before you shake your head and join him on the bed, giving up on your original goal of getting him undressed.

“You’re going to regret drinking so much tomorrow morning,” you whisper as you tuck Kyoujurou into bed. Kyoujurou only smiles up at you, reaching out to take you into his arms and pulling you firmly into his chest.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow!” He laughs, pressing your cheek against his. With a sigh, you pull the blankets over the two of you, snuggling closer to him for warmth.

“My problem for tomorrow, you mean.”

Still, you wouldn’t mind him getting drunk more often, you think as you fall asleep in his embrace.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #demon slayer kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny #kny kyojuro

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simplysimpingsimp · 3 years

Text

Congratulations to Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba for being the only series with Zenitsu in it and Happy birthday to baby boy Zeni <3 the edit was made by me during my stats class (; sorry prof! I understood most of the lesson, don’t worry TT

🌻—————————————————————🌻

🌻Birthday wishes

Zenitsu x fem!Reader

Pronouns: she/her

TW: none

Set in modern times <3!

🌻—————————————————————🌻

Zenitsu whimpered, he’d woken up alone. He propped himself up on his forearms, golden eyes scanning the room for any trace of her. Y/n would usually be beside him, gently shaking him awake so that he wouldn’t be late to his school lectures or just so that he would get out of bed in general.

“Where could she be?” He questioned as he cupped his face with his hands, knees tucked into his chest.

He looked at his phone beside him, maybe she called or left a message.

Zenitsu grabbed a hold of it, pressing the home button only to see game, school and email notifications and his Lock Screen picture of Y/n on their most recent date.

He smiled sadly at the sight. She looked so beautiful illuminated by the golden city lights in the dark sky. That cheery smile on her face that made his heart flutter and cheeks warm.

He sighed softly as he got out of bed, and got ready for the day. Zenitsu looked around the apartment they shared and found no sign of her.

It was as if she vanished, but he felt some relief from his panic at the sight of her phone, keys and wallet not in their usual spot.

“Maybe she had an exam to take…” he murmured to himself, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

He reached for his phone in his pocket and dialed her number.

“Hello?” Her voice resounded

“N/n!!! Y-“ he was about to continue until he heard the sound of his own laugh.

“Sorry! N/n is busy taking care of me right now,” Zenitsu heard his own voice speak loudly.

“I’ll call back soon! Ze-Zenitsu don’t do that!” He heard the sound of her laugh begin until it got cut off by the dial and beep.

He sighed and hung up, canceling the voicemail.

Soft steps and knocking filled his ears and he practically floated to the door expecting Y/n to be behind it. He flung it open but was met with the sight of Tanjiro’s smiling face with a box in his hands and Inosuke holding a gift bag.

“Happy birthday Zenitsu!” Tanjiro spoke excitedly as he handed him the box.

“Happy birthday Monitsu,” Inosuke spoke proudly as he pushed the bag into his chest, “I got you the best present by the way!”

Zenitsu’s large smile dropped into a smaller one. He had forgotten his own birthday. His hands took a hold of the two gifts from his friends as he placed them on a chair nearby.

Tanjiro and Inosuke looked at each other and nodded, a mischievous smile on both their faces as Inosuke dragged Zenitsu along and away from his home with Tanjiro following behind after securing the apartment door with its lock.

Zenitsu screamed and flailed his arms around as Inosuke threw him over his shoulder and carried him until he shoved him into the back seat of Tanjiro’s car.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH BOTH OF YOU?!?!” The golden eyed young man yelled as Tanjiro drove away from the parking lot, a laugh escaping his lips as Inosuke crossed his arm proudly.

The pair drove him around the city treating Zenitsu to snacks and whatever things he wanted.

“Have any of you heard from Y/n?” Zenitsu asked, his voice saddened and gaze downcast as he walked in between Tanjiro and Inosuke.

Inosuke and Tanjiro glanced at each other. Tanjiro placed a hand on Zenitsu’s shoulder, his voice soft, “I haven’t heard from her today. But don’t worry! I’m sure she’s just fine.”

“Yeah there’s no way anyone would think of bothering her aside from those dudes that circle her,” Inosuke laughed as he placed a hand on his free shoulder.

It clicked in his head.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH,” Zenitsu screamed as he gripped his hair, earning the stares of other people.

“Y/N IS ALL BY HERSELF WITH NO ONE TO PROTECT HER!!! QUICK WE HAVE TO GO SAVE HER FROM THOSE CREEPS THAT LOOK AT HER,” he yelled, tears brimming his eyes and a reddened tint on his cheeks as he gripped onto Tanjiro’s shirt.

A disturbed look formed on Tanjiro’s and Inosuke’s face as they watched his panicked state.

“DONT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!” He whined loudly.

Tanjiro took a quick glance at his phone, a smile on his face. He nodded in Inosuke’s direction, mouthing discretely, ‘it's go time’.

Inosuke understood as he threw Zenitsu over his shoulder again, a loud laugh erupting from the green eyed young man as he and Tanjiro began to run in the direction of where he had parked the car.

It was dark out, the sky becoming a smokey midnight blue and purple with faint gray string like clouds blocking the light of the emerging stars. Zenitsu gripped onto the head cushion of Tanjiro’s seat as he urged him to drive faster.

Inosuke reached behind him, tying a blindfold across Zenitsu’s eyes.

“WHAT THE HELL INOSUKE?!?” Zenitsu screeched as he was about to remove the blindfold.

“IF YOU TAKE IT OFF IM TELLING Y/N THAT EMBARRASSING THING YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE IN MIDDLE SCHOOL!” Inosuke threatened loudly, matching the volume of Zenitsu’s screams.

A loud crying sound erupted from Zenitsu, “DONT TELL HER!”

It was a miracle that Tanjiro was driving perfectly, his poor ears were getting destroyed by the two velociraptor-like screeches and screaming battle occurring on either side of him.

Zenitsu’s cries became soft whimpers as he heard the car come to a stop. Inosuke helped him out and carried him up the stairs.

Soft music filled his ears as they approached the front door. Inosuke set him down, Tanjiro’s soft knocks on the door resounded. The door opened quietly, quiet enough to not even reach his ears.

The trio stepped into the apartment, a warm ambience and the scent of vanilla filled the air.

He felt a familiar pair of hands reach behind his head, gently untying the blindfold. His eye sight adjusting to the sight of Y/n with minimal make up and in the sun yellow dress he had given her, a yellow flower crown on her head.

“Happy birthday Zeni,” her voice was soft and sweet, making his heart pound against his chest.

The apartment had been decorated with yellow and orange balloons floating and littering the ground. Star shaped streamers hung from the ceiling with golden fairy lights trickling down. A beautiful yellow frosted cake sat in the middle of the table with his favorite meal ready to be served.

“Thank you guys,” Y/n spoke happily as they nodded with happy smiles on their faces. She handed them both goody bags and elegantly packed food as they had agreed upon in their deal.

Tanjiro and Inosuke high fived each other as they quietly left, Tanjiro closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” she spoke sheepishly with a light blush, “Tanjiro was keeping me updated throughout the day.”

He remained quiet for a second.

“Zenitsu?” She questioned softly as her hand found its way to his cheek.

He pulled her into a tight hug, his cries filling her ears, “WAAAAAHHH!! N/N YOURE TOO SWEET! AN ANGEL! A GODDESS! A BEAUTIFUL GODDESS! EVERYTHING! I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU,” he nuzzled his cheek into her head as he cried.

She laughed softly as she returned the embrace, an arm gently wrapping around his neck while her other hand wiped away his streaming tears, “No crying,” her voice sweetly spoke.

“Happy birthday Zeni, I’m so happy that I got to celebrate your birthday with you even though it’s a little late. I just wanted it to be a good one for you,” her thumb gently caressing his cheek.

His hand enveloped hers, “It’s already the best one, because you’re here with me,” his voice adorably soft as the cute floral aura seemingly formed around him.

She felt her face warm, “I love you Zenitsu. I hope to spend a lot more birthdays with you.”

“I love you too Y/n,” he brought his face closer to hers.

Unconsciously, they pressed their lips together in a kiss. His kiss was soft and adorable as the warmth from his face radiated onto her skin. The softness of her lips left him feeling gushy and bubbly as he felt her arms around him.

They pulled away from the kiss, both their faces reddened.

“Well let’s go eat, birthday boy!” She mused happily as she guided him to the dinner table.

They ate dinner happily chatting away about Zenitsu’s whole trip with Y/n apologizing for tricking him and having Inosuke be the muscle of the gang.

She stood and came back with matches to the light the candles on the cake she had made for him. Carefully she lit each one, a soft smile on her face as she glanced and saw the happy expression on Zenitsu’s face.

“Make a wish Zeni,” she spoke softly as she got her camera to take pictures of him beautifully illuminated by the warm candle light.

He closed his eyes as a soft smile formed on his lips, wishing in his mind,

“I hope that one day you’ll marry me and that I can always make you happy, because I love you Y/n.”

It was one of his best birthdays.

ᴇɴᴅ

🌻—————————————————————🌻

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ᴢᴇɴɪᴛsᴜ 09.03! ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғᴇᴇʟ ғʀᴇᴇ

ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀsᴋs/ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs/ɪᴅᴇᴀs/ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ! sᴇᴇ

ʏᴀʟʟ sᴏᴏɴ <3

-ᴊᴜɴᴏ

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer zenitsu #demon slayer Zenitsu agatsuma #kimetsu no yaiba Zenitsu #kimetsu no yaiba Zenitsu agatsuma #kny zenitsu #zenitsu agatsuma #Zenitsu #zenitsu x reader #reader insert #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #anime x reader #anime writing blog #fluff #kny fluff #happy birthday Zenitsu

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forcefullyawake · 3 years

Text

This is for @cupcake-rogue’s like a virgin collab!

Denki x F! Reader

Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff, and a suggestive ending.

Summary: Sometimes the right person runs into you. Literally. Other times it’s a hero who’s not watching where he’s going.

WC: 1.9k

Denki Kaminari doesn’t do being nervous.

He’s a hero, a pro, top ten. He worked his ass off during UA, his internships, did everything right, shed his jokester ways, and in the first hero rankings he was in? He placed higher thank even Bakugo. He’s impressive, he thinks, tall and blonde, having grown into himself after those first few awkward years. The point is he’s not nervous around women anymore, doesn’t stutter over his words or make inappropriate comments. He’s cool, mature, a catch for any woman.

Until, that is, he quite literally runs into you.

“I’m fucking late,” Denki announces to nobody- it’s not like anybody stayed over the night before. It’s a true testament to who he is now that his morning routine can be essentially cut in half and almost nothing goes wrong during it. His hero costume is not only easy to get on, but something that works well with his usual wardrobe, so that he can be out the door in under twenty minutes for times like these.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He mutters to himself, finally getting all the buttons into place right when the elevator opens up to the ground floor. It’s impressive, actually, that he manages to run into you. With a quirk like his, he’s learned to be constantly aware of his surroundings so nobody gets shocked accidentally. Today, however, he’s not thinking straight and runs directly into you, knocking you (and your paperwork) to the ground.

He stops dead in his tracks, wanting more than anything to start apologizing, helping you pick things up. You know, things any normal person or hero would do but he finds himself stuck in place. You’re… hot, for lack of a better word. He’ll think of some later. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something about you that has him immediately bewitched- mind, body, and soul, just like that. You’re standing now, a scowl on your face and- hey you’re snapping your fingers for some reason, maybe he should listen in.

“Hello? Is anybody any there?” Your voice is understandably irritated, looking him up and down quickly before huffing. “Whatever. Watch where you’re going next time, jerk.” You spin away from him, taking his hopes and dreams right with you. But you walk into his apartment building, and through the glass doors that stand between you he sees you walk to the manager- so you’re either gonna live there or work there. Either way he has a second chance.

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket, and a quick glance tells him it’s Mineta, demanding to know where he is- is he okay? Was there a villain attack? Denki shoots off a quick text saying he’s just overslept before hurrying on his way.

It’s not until later, when he’s finally in his office, that Denki realizes how he was feeling.

For the first time, in a very long time, Denki Kaminari was nervous. All because of you.

“Stupid hero, not watching where he was stupidly going,” You mutter under your breathe before plastering on a smile when your new apartment manager steps into view. God, this place is so nice. You can’t wait to move in. You have to dropped off the signed leasing forms and then give the place one last look around before the moving trucks start coming in.

The meeting goes smoothly, which helps ease whatever leftover tension you have from the morning. The keys are in your hands, the boxes are piling up, and your neighbor is out for the day it looks like so you can play music as loudly as you dare. Your day goes just about as well as a moving day can. You get the important things set up first- bed, tv, coffee maker. The creature comforts for when you’re inevitably exhausted tomorrow. You hear movement in the other apartment, frowning at the shared wall with how clearly you can. Hm, that might be annoying. Still, you don’t plan on turning down the music unless asked.

Almost like clockwork you hear a knock on your door. You pause to lower the volume to a more acceptable level before opening the door, ready to introduce yourself and apologize, make a good first impression and all that only to see-

“You!” You raise an accusatory finger- at the hero who knocked you over and did nothing this morning. “You can’t be my neighbor!”

“I-” He starts, having the good sense to at least look a little sheepish now. “I’m sorry?” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head, making him look even more nervous but you can see his eyes looking over your shoulder to peer into your apartment.

“Yeah, you should have said that this morning,” It holds less venom than you want, especially when you get distract by the muscles his actions put on display. Huh. Your new neighbor is incredibly built. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “Again, whatever. I turned the music down. Goodnight.” You go to close the door but his voice stops you.

“Hold on, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” He starts, finally looking away from your apartment, “I liked it. And maybe you can play it for me now? I could help you put stuff away? Make up for this morning?”

You should say no. You’re already getting tired, you have stuff beyond packing to do tomorrow, and it’s stupid to let a complete stranger into your house. Even if he’s a pro hero. And even if he’s cute. You should tell him to get lost. Instead, you open your mouth to hear yourself say,

“Sure, come on in.”

Denki can’t believe his luck when you open your door a little wider to let him in.

He was so sure you were going to say no- hell, even you looked a little confused when yes came out of your mouth, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. Your place already looked a lot cozier than his, with decorations half in the boxes, even. You have photos up on the walls already, pictures of people who look like you too and people who look like your friends. His own apartment is pretty sparse, just a place he can sleep and eat in.

“Could you help me in the kitchen?” Your voice carries through the space, having left him behind. “I have some stuff that need to go onto the top shelf.” He follows blindly, biting down so hard on his lower lip it almost bleed when he sees you. You’re not doing anything scandalous, just putting dishes away but the way your arms are raised over your head have given him a glimpse at your skin where your shirt has ridden up. He can feel the blood rush south in his body, embarrassingly.

“Stop ogling and start helping,” You snap over your shoulder, frowning at him. That snaps him out of his daze, not wanting to leave too soon despite having another early morning shift. He grabs the box you point at, and starts to place the mugs on the top shelf. They look like gifts, he thinks, all of them printed with far too many places for one person to have visited.

“Your friends get you these?” He asks, trying to sound casually interested, not too desperate, “Or a boyfriend?” You snort at him.

“Friends, mostly, and some family,” You wait a long moment before continuing, “No boyfriends, though.” Denki internally heaves a sigh of relief.

“I don’t get out much, with my job. But I like to pretend I do,” You say, eyeing the mugs wistfully. “How about you? You travel a lot?”

“That requires taking time off,” Denki says, frowning a little as he tries to remember his last actually relaxing day off. “But you know what they say- if you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life!”

“Oh, bullshit,” You snort out, abandoning the box you’ve been unpacking all together. “I love my job, a lot, but I have worked some days.” The tension is broken after that, with Denki asking you to elaborate and you trying to play coy until the rants just burst out of you. It’s not until your stomach gives a loud grumble that you realize neither of you have been unpacking but just talking for the past hour and a half.

It’s just late enough that a normal dinner is out of the question, but maybe you could order something in?

“I know a good ramen place that delivers here,” Denki volunteers, grinning sheepishly.

“Are you sure your quirk isn’t mind reading?” You tease him, just to watch him laugh. He’s pretty hot when he laughs, you think, then immediately try to squash the thought. Dinner first, crushing on a hero later.

Dinner is ordered.

Denki’s right, the ramen is good and it comes quick. The two of you slurp your soup in silence, the awkwardness returning from before. Denki seems almost unable to look at you now, for some reason. He focuses in so hard on his bowl you’re surprised it doesn’t go up in smoke. You want to ask him about it but you can’t figure out how to phrase the question.

For his part, Denki is having an internal meltdown. When you lean forward to take a sip of the broth your shirt pulls forward just enough that he can see the swell of your breasts. It shouldn’t affect him this much, he’s been around enough, but there’s something about the white of your bra that makes his head spin, makes him feel like a virgin all over again.

“Are you okay?” You ask him the same moment he blurts out-

“I can see your bra, I’m sorry, don’t kick me out,” All in one breath. You’re silent for a moment, and then another, and another, and Denki regrets every choice he’s made in his life until now that brought him here. You keep not saying anything and a million and one scenarios run through his head, each one worse than the next. Oh my god, what if you tell people? He’ll be known as the pervert hero, he won’t be able to work in Japan anymore, he’ll have to someplace like America or-

“Would you like to see more of it?” Your voice is soft, shy as your hands twist in the bottom of your shirt, looking at him with wide eyes. He’s sure he’s misheard you because there’s no way you’re offering what he thinks you are.

“More?” He manages to croak out. You don’t reply, but your shirt keeps going upwards. Your shirt continues upwards until it’s off of you and Denki’s brain has finally, truly short circuited.

You’re not sure what’s possessing you to be so bold- maybe the conversation, maybe the way the food has made you comfortably warm and a little drowsy, maybe you just wanna see what he’ll do next. It’s cute, endearing even, how his eyes can’t figure out where to look. He can’t decide if he wants to throw himself at you or away from you.

“More,” You agree, moving closer to him on the couch, taking the bowl from his hands to set on the table in front of you. Denki stops breathing as you move even closer to him, your face swimming in front of his eyes. “Tell me if I should stop?”

“Never,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours, tasting like a promise, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s so easy to fall into him, like you’ve known him forever, like this is as easy as breathing.

It’s sunrise, somehow. Denki is still there, blissfully unaware as you watch him sleep. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t watch where he was going the previous morning.

Now, though, you wouldn’t mind running into him again.

#denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #denki x female reader #denki fluff #denki kaminari fluff

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ericsangyeon · 3 years

Text

black lace and birthday cake - l.sy

“Look so good yeah, look so sweet. Baby you deserve a treat.”

pairing: sangyeon x female! reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: suggestive, fluff

theme: sangyeon’s birthday gang au

warnings: SMUT!!, profanity, alcohol

a/n: hey guys! i’m back with my long awaited sequel! this can be read as a stand alone but it does take place in the same universe as my other story addicted. again please be nice i’m still not used to writing smut. this was also edited but there could be mistakes! enjoy it! -t :D

playlist moodboard

“Do you have anything for Sangyeons birthday? It's in two days.” Kevin asks me while we are in the Starbucks line.

“No not yet. Honestly, I was going to cook him dinner or something. He's been too busy anyways.” I answer him as we move up.

“Boring!! You have been dating for how long? You should surprise him with something he would love.” Kevin says. All of a sudden his eyes widened. “Oh my gosh I have an idea!” He yells a little too loudly.

“Kevin Moon, I swear to god... But let's hear it.” I roll my eyes at him.

“You should dr- Wait, let me order first and then I'll tell you.” Kevin snickers and walks up to the counter, with me in tow.

After getting our drinks, Kevin and I started to walk around the mall. We’re killing time before our afternoon classes, and Kevin wanted to buy a pair of shoes for himself.

“You never told me what I should do for Sang’s birthday.” I nagged Kevin.

He smirked. “You should go to his apartment the day of, send him a picture of yourself in the lingerie your about to buy and then give him the best sex of his and your life” Kevin says proudly.

My eyes widened and before I can protest, Kevin continues his idea.

“I know you guys have had a crazy sex life. Don’t try to argue, it's obvious with all the turtlenecks you wear. He has been busy with the gang, and this will forsure make him come to you. Quite literally.” Kevin explains to me before taking my hand.

“I guess? I mean, I've been really horny lately and the combination of my vibrator and sexting does nothing for me.” I say to Kevin. He laughs and drags me into Victoria’s Secret.

“Ahh, this is exciting! You're gonna pick out some sexy lingerie! I swear, you’ll get Sangyeon coming in his pants before he even gets his hands on you.”

“Shut up,” I try to say but instead, I blush hard. We proceed to walk over to the lingerie section, as I eye the mannequins on display. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

November 4th. Sangyeons birthday.

The person looking back at me in my mirror was completely different. I had curled my hair into loose ringlets that rested on my face. I did my eyeshadow with a smokey dark colour, and left my lips bare, as it would all be removed anyways. On my body is a black lace push up bra that barely covers my breasts, with matching panties that highlight my ass. Attached to the underwear on both legs are garters that rest on my upper thighs. Pleased with how I look, I smiled at myself and prepare to leave.

I grab my overnight bag, as I probably will need it. I put on my silver heels and black long coat, and I leave my apartment. On the way to his penthouse, I stopped at the bakery to pick up the cake I had ordered for him earlier today.

Pulling into Sangyeon’s private garage, I park my car and spot Younghoon, the lead bodyguard of the penthouse. I get out of my car and walk over to him.

“Good afternoon Ms. Y/Ln. Sangyeon isnt home.” Younghoon greets me.

“I know, thank you. I want to surprise him for his birthday!” I reply back, smiling.

“Oh okay! Well I’ll leave you to it. I’ll even stay on the garage floor for you.” He says with a hint of teasing.

I roll my eyes and laugh. “I’ll call you if anything goes wrong. Thanks Hoon, you're the best!” I flash him my best smile as he opens the elevator door for me and laughs.

When I get up to Sangyeons penthouse, I am greeted with no staff at all.

“I guess he sent his staff home today thinking he would crash at the mob house.” I think to myself. Due to the high volume of work, Sangyeon has been staying at the TBZ house lately, which is why I never get to see him.

I reach his bedroom, and remove my long coat to hide in his closet. I prop my phone up on his night table, set up the camera to a timer, and proceed to take a risky picture of myself.

“I really hope this works.” I think to myself posing as the timer goes off. I grabbed my phone and my jaw dropped.

It was a picture of myself dressed in the black lingerie, kneeling on his bed. There in perfect HD, are my hard nipples poking through the bra, and my legs spread on my knees to reveal my pussy covered in black lace fabric connected to garders on my thighs.

It was great. I pulled up Sangyeons contact and sent him the picture.

“And now we wait.” I say out loud as I lean back into his bed.

Forty painful minutes later, my phone vibrates next me as I lay on his bed. I roll over to check that it is a message back from Sangyeon, which I open in anticipation.

I'm coming back early, you better be on the bed when I get home. The text read. My eyes widen, and a flash of desire and giddiness shoots through my body, almost leaving me breathless with arousal. I could feel my clit starting to ache with this wave of emotion.

Before I can even remove my panties to relieve the pressure on my clit, I hear the front door to the penthouse open. I jump and rearrange myself so that I'm sitting with my legs dangling from the huge bed. I hear him drop something, and his shuffling getting closer and closer to me. I'm about to call out Sangyeon’s name when the bedroom door swings open.

There Sangyeon stands, suit jacket off and the top buttons of his shirt undone. His eyes are on fire, travelling down my body like he's about to devour me. I stare back at him frozen, as I let myself be torn apart by Sangyeon’s gaze. Finally, his eyes meet mine, and his lips curve into a smirk.

“You're a bad girl.” He whispers.

“What did I do?” I play innocent.

“You know, how you sent me that picture while I was in a meeting just to get me riled up. Do you know the effect you have on me? I could have embarrassed myself in front of the powerful European gang.” Sangyeon growls. He starts to walk towards me slowly, every step he took making me more aroused.

Sangyeon grabs my face roughly and crashes his lips on mine. The brown haired man pushes me down onto the bed and hovers over me. He kisses me roughly, entering his tongue into my mouth when I part my lips. My hands reach up to his shirt, undoing the buttons fast to reveal his beautiful upper body. I press my hands on his abs, making him gasp into my mouth. I didn't even realize Sangyeon had taken my bra off, until his lips left mine made their way down to my bare breasts.

“Your tits are beautiful.” Sangyeon coos, bringing his mouth down. He catches my left nipple into his mouth and sucks on it softly while using his hand to fondle with my right breast. I let out a loud sigh, as he switches to the right. But when Sangyeon starts to leave open mouth kisses down my stomach, I use this chance to flip him over, making me on top.

“Y/N, baby, I'm always on top. What are you doing?” Sangyeon asks me.

“It's your birthday, let me spoil you for once.” I reply mischievously.

“Baby its okay, I dont m- fuck!” He growls as I leave an open mouth kiss above his belt.

I smirk at him as I undo his belt, and remove his pants and boxers. Sangyeons huge cock springs out, hard and angry. I pump it twice before sinking my mouth down fast.

Sangyeon hisses a string of curses and reaches to grab my hair out of my face.

“Fuck baby slow down. I still want to fuck you later.” He snarls as I moan onto his cock.

Sangyeon takes my hair and motions my head up and down on his cock. I gag when it reaches the back of my throat, tears starting to form in my eyes.

“That’s it, princess. You take my cock so well. You're doing so well, baby.” He murmurs under his breath, loud enough for me to hear.

Sangyeon grunts loud as I feel his hot cum hit my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, and pull off to meet his eyes.

“God, those eyes. They kill me.” Sangyeon whispers as he reaches over to my face and wipes off some of his cum that got on my lips. I smiled at him, but it was not returned.

“Now I'm in control, baby. Your fun is over.” Sangyeon says quickly before kissing me. He pulls off my lips slowly, lingering there.

“I want you to take your panties off and sit on my face. Let me taste that beautiful cunt of yours.” He says against my lips. I nod my head, feeling my giddiness come back.

Sangyeon repositions himself so that he's lying against his pillows. I stand up and slowly unbuckle the garter that was holding my panties up. I turn around and remove my lace underwear slowly, my ass in Sangyeon’s face.

Before I could even think, I felt his hands on my hips. Sangyeon lifts me up and places me on his face, mouth touching my pussy. Sangyeon presses an open mouth kiss onto my clit, and starts to lick and suck it fast.

“Ah Sangyeon yes!” I moan loud as my hands grip the headboard.

I begin to ride his face, grinding on his lips. Sangyeon slaps my ass hard, gripping my waist and I think I am seeing stars.

“Right there, yes! Fuck I’m gonna cum.” I tilt my head back and moan, speeding up the pace. He proceeds to stretch my pussy out with his fingers, and adds two inside without any warning.

This is too much for me to handle. I scream as I feel myself cum all over Sangyeon’s mouth and two fingers. He removes his fingers and kisses my clit softly. I roll off of him, and try to catch my breath.

“You taste so good always Y/N.” Sangyeon praises and runs his hand through my hair

All of a sudden. Sangyeon picks me up and walks over to the huge glass window that overlooks the city. I felt the cold glass hit my bare back, which caused me to hiss at the contact.

As I tried to turn myself around to admire the view, my back is full on slammed against the glass window. Sangyeon holds my waist and enters my pussy slowly, letting me adjust to his huge size.

“You're so goddamn tight.” I hear him whisper. I wrap my legs around his torso, making it easier for us to both adjust.

I let out a moan to let him know he bottomed out. Sangyeon removes his cock from my pussy and slams back into me fast. I scream as I feel his fingers dig into my hip bones.

His thrusts become so fast quickly and I'm helpless against him. I wrap my arms around his neck and capture his lips in a messy kiss, moaning against his mouth.

“You like that princess? Everyone seeing me fuck your tight pussy against the window? Sangyeon grunts into my ear,

I moan back, too overwhelmed to answer. He slaps my ass and presses me harder into the glass.

“Answer me, brat.” Sangyeon hisses.

“Yes Sangyeon, oh my god!” I answer him with the only words I can think of.

I can tell his orgasm is close as he pulls me to him as close as possible and thrusts into me deeply.

“FUCK!” Sangyeon yells as I feel his cum enter my pussy. He still is fucking me hard, as I feel the familar knot in my stomach.

“Sangyeon!” I scream and grip his neck as I cum.

We both fall onto the bedroom floor. Sangyeon pulls out of me and cradels my shaking body into a hug. Out of breath and overwhelmed, I feel myself start to cry.

“No baby why are you crying? You did so well. So beautiful for me, always.” Sangyeon cooes into my ear while I sob into his chest.

I look up at him. “I didn't mean to cry, that was just so amazing.” I reply softly, making him chuckle.

“Cmon, I’ll run a bath for us.” Sangyeon says as he picks me up bridal style.

We leave his bedroom and walk to the guest bathroom. A huge jacuzzi style bath rests against a glass window. Sangyeon places me gently in the tub and turns the water on. He grabs the soap and shampoo from the cupboard, placing it next to the tub. He gets in as well, and moves me so my back is against his chest. I feel him start to lather shampoo into my hair as I start to doze off.

“I hope you liked your birthday gift. I missed you a lot and wanted to do something out of the box for you.” I say tiredly to Sangyeon as he pours water over my hair.

“You're my gift everyday. I know sometimes my job gets in the way.” Sangyeon sighed. “I wish it was different, trust me. I hope you know I love you so much.” He places a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I love you too Sangyeon.” I reply to him grinning.

Sangyeon helps me stand up so he can wash my body. As I stand up, I start to grimace from the dull aches on my waist and thighs. Sangyeon notices that and frowns as he puts soap on his hands.

“I hope I didn't hurt you that much.” He says while running his hands softly over the bruise forming on my right hip.

“Don’t worry. I like the pain.” I smirk as Sangyeon rolls his eyes and laughs, making me laugh as well.

After another 10 minutes of Sangyeon and I washing each other, we both get out of the bath and change into matching white robes.

“Go wait on the balcony.” I tell Sangyeon and kiss his cheek.

When I hear him close the balcony door, I go to his kitchen to grab the small cake I got for him, as well as wine and wine glasses. I place the cake and glasses on a tray and pour the wine. I grab the candles and matches I stashed in a cupboard and light them on the cake.

When I reach the balcony, Sangyeon opens the door for me, and his face goes shocked.

“Y/N you didn't have to do that for me.” He says.

I place the tray down on the balcony table.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Sangyeon. Happy birthday to you.” I sang to him grinning.

He pulls me in for a back hug as he blows out his candles. I notice the sun is setting, so I remove myself from his grasp and turn around to watch.

Sangyeon appears next to me and takes my hand.

“What did you wish for?” I ask him looking straight ahead.

“Nothing. I already have everything I need here right now.” Sangyeon turns to me and brings my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes and stare back at him.

“You're such a cliche.”

“You love it.”

I kiss him with so much passion. Sangyeon grabs my waist softly and kisses back the same, as I wrap my arms around his neck. We part slowly, pecking each other a few times

That night, Sangyeon and I spoon feed each other cake until we are both full. I end up falling asleep on the balcony chair. Sangyeon brings me to his bedroom, and tucks me in.

“I had a great day with you. Goodnight Y/N sweet dreams.” Sangyeon mumbles as he presses a kiss to my temple. He climbs into bed as well and wraps me in his arms.

I dream of cake, black lace, and my dream man, Lee Sangyeon.

i hope you enjoyed! sorry if it was rushed i wanted to get it out asap hehe

make sure to support the boyz on kingdom and vote on whosfan! :D

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kiirokero · 4 years

Text

Outro: Love Is Not Over (2)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Nothing, just very cute moments between mom and son.

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: Heyo, if you want to be added to this story's tag list, you can reply to this post or message me!

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / Next

Tag List: @kurochan3 @mrcleanheichou

“Yunho! Are you dressed?” I called up the stairs. “Yes! I’m coming!” Yunho called back in an excited voice. It was a wonder how he could be so awake and peppy at 6am. Maybe it was his hybrid genes... Golden retrievers are notorious for being cheerful dogs.

I heard Yunho’s rapid steps, and he quickly came skipping into the kitchen, immediately hugging my leg. I set down the butter knife I was using to make his lunch and gave him a full hug, kissing his forehead.

“Are you excited for your first day of school?” I asked, picking off some lint that was on his shirt. “Yes! I get to make new friends!” He exclaimed, hopping up and down. It made me chuckle. Even if I was exhausted, he was like a dose of happiness medicine. “I’m glad.” I smiled.

I got Yunho his breakfast and finished preparing his lunch. I did a check over all of his things to make sure he had everything he needed. I checked off every box in my head. Pencil case... Notebook... Water bottle... “Eomma!” Yunho called out for me. I walked over to the dining room and saw him sitting in his chair, still eating his breakfast. “What’s up bub?” I asked. “Can you sit with me? Please?”

I nodded, walking over and sitting in my seat. Yunho smiled and went back to eating. We sat in comfortable silence while I pet his head. I just admired him for a minute. I don’t know what God blessed me with such a son, but whoever it was, I’m indebted to you for life.

Yunho was a calm baby. In the way of, he wasn’t a screamer. I remember Hyejin telling me horror stories about Hajun screaming in the middle of the night, startling both her and Yoongi awake. They worried me when I had Yunho, but he never screamed, maybe once or twice, but he normally kept his volume to a reasonable decibel level.

Yes, Yunho was enthusiastic, but he never raised his voice enough to where it was anything but childlike excitement. As a baby, he’d just cry, but he’d cry softly. There wasn’t a right way to describe it. If I was in the kitchen and he was sitting on a blanket in the living room, I would hear him cry, but it wasn’t ear piercing. Maybe it was due to the small house that I could easily hear him... He was just a calm baby.

When he was around 3 and 4, he started being very emotive and enthusiastic. At first he’d do it all the time, even when he was supposed to be extra quiet. But after teaching him that there's a time and a place to be expressive, he caught on pretty quickly.

That didn’t mean we didn’t have problems though. More than once he’d draw on the walls or walk through the house with his shoes on. Sometimes he was in a foul mood and would throw a fit, but that was rare. There was a time he refused to clean his room, and it hurt my soul to put my foot down, but I was still his mother.

Point being, Yunho was the sun. A sun that deserved the universe.

“Alright bub, are you ready?” I held Yunho’s hand as he stood wide-eyed in front of the school building. Yunho had only been to a small daycare that was also a kindergarten, so this is all new to him. I slowly started walking forward with Yunho walking behind me. It was cute, but I knew he couldn’t hide from school forever. I don’t want to go to jail.

The building was dazzling and straight out of a fairytale. Artwork lined the halls and the walls were painted with dragons and princesses, the occasional mermaid here and there. All in all, a very welcoming place. I could see Yunho’s eyes light up as he looked at the walls, and he was slowly walking next to me again.

We stopped in front of a room labeled, “Mrs. Hopkin’s First Grade Kingdom!” It made me chuckle. The building seemed to have a theme going on here. We walked in, hand in hand, and if I thought the hallways jumped out of a fairytale, this room jumped out of a Disney movie.

It was set up like the ordinary first-grade classroom, but the one wall had a whole mural. There were fairytale decorations hanging from the ceiling. The floor tiles were white with dots of rainbow colors, and they set the desks up in clusters inspired by different fairytale creatures. As in, one table cluster was mermaid-inspired, decorated with scales and a seashell rug underneath. One was dragon-inspired with flame details and a dragon stuffed animal in the middle of the table. A green rug was also underneath the table.

It made you wonder for a second if you stopped at the wrong school because this seemed expensive and you definitely didn’t have the money to send Yunho to a rich kid's school. Being a writer paid well, but not THAT well.

Soon, an old woman walked up to us. She was wearing a floral, floor-length skirt and a white button up. “Hello! I’m Mrs. Hopkin. Welcome!” She smiled, and it was the classic grandmother smile. “Hello! I’m Y/n and this is Yunho.” Yunho waved, still holding my hand. “Lovely to meet you, we’re just about to start!” Mrs. Hopkin exclaimed, so I let Yunho go and ushered him to go play while I went to stand with the rest of the moms and dads.

This was a primarily hybrid school since Yunho and I lived in a predominately hybrid community. Meaning, most the parents were also hybrids, but I didn’t care. I hung around hybrids for 2/3rds of my life. Funnily, hanging out with another human would be odd for me. However, that didn’t stop the occasional side glances and looks I would get.

I was used to it at this point because I stuck out like a neon sign. It happened everywhere I went. We lived in a pretty sizeable community, meaning I didn’t have to go out of town a lot. At first, it made me insecure, but Hyejin and Yoongi snapped me out of it and told me they weren’t judging me; they were just surprised. I remember Yoongi’s wise words... “Look, dumbo, what the hell are they gonna judge you for? Living? Breathing? I already do that, so no need to worry.”

He got a pretty good punch from Hyejin for that one.

Mrs. Hopkin clapped her hands, calling everyone's attention to the front of the class. “Hello everyone! Welcome to first grade!” She exclaimed enthusiastically, “We’ll be going over the rules and then we will say goodbye to our mommies and daddies.” And just like that, she started explaining the basics. It made me think she rehearsed this in a mirror last night. She flowed as if she was running on muscle memory. Or maybe she's been teaching for way too long.

It was fairly simple. Keep your hands to yourself, listen to whoever is speaking, raise your hand, yadda yadda... I’ve been to first grade before. After Mrs. Hopkins finished speaking to the parents about expectations and what happens if one of our kids is bad, she let us all say our goodbyes. Yunho ran and jumped on me, burying his face into my chest.

He was scenting me, showing me he was nervous. “You’ll be okay, bub. I’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.” I pet his head and his tail started wagging. “I don’t want Eomma to go...” He whined. I swore that my heart exploded. “But you were so excited this morning?” I chuckled. “I take it back.” He grumbled. I cooed and softly put him down, unraveling the scarf I had around my neck.

“Here you go. Just for today, okay? You’re a big boy now, Yunnie.” I smiled at his big puppy eyes. Yunho held to scarf to his nose, and I gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, baby.” I whispered. “I love you too, Eomma.”

Stepping out of the school, away from my son, was eye opening. Yunho was growing right before my eyes, and before I know it, he’ll be walking out of this school grown. Ready to tackIe the next level of school. It makes me tear up a bit and I feel like a mother in a slice of life film. I chuckle, shaking my head as I get into my car.

Just as I’m about to start it up, my phone rings. Hyejin. “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, deciding that I’d drive after this call. “Y/n! Thank god you answered!” She sighed in relief. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” She hums and I can hear ruckus in the background. “Yes... No...? I’m in a predicament.”

“What?” I chuckle nervously, unsure if I should be worried. “So... Um... I forgot today was the boy’s first day of school, so Hajun is not there...” She cautions. “Okay? He can go tomorrow.” I reason. “He’s with me... And I can’t watch him, I have to go to work.” If I was in The Office, this would be the moment where I would look directly into the camera with a blank stare.

“Hyejin-”

“I know! You can scold me later... Can you come pick him up? Please~” She begged.

“Yeah, I can... I’m at the school right now.” I grumbled.

“Great! Meet me at the daycare so you don’t have to drive as much. I love you!”

I sighed, shaking my head. She’s going to be the death of me.

#bts #bts fic #bts one shot #jung hoseok #bts hoseok #hobi #hoseok x reader #jhope #jhope x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid

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forgedroyalseal · 3 years

Text

Please Don’t Leave Me

Chapter One:

It had been an easy pregnancy, if such a thing actually exists. Alyss had worked up until the final month, though she had stopped going on far away diplomatic missions early on. That had been Will and Pauline’s doing. Will had been panicking since the day she told him she was expecting. He begged her to stop traveling for work, even offering to ask Crowley to keep him solely local assignments through out the pregnancy for the sake of fairness. Alyss had told him that he was being over protective, of course she was going to accept whatever missions she was offered for as long as she was able to fulfill them. This had driven Will to disclose his concerns to Pauline. He didn’t do it because Pauline was head courier, but because both he and Alyss viewed her as a maternal figure. As it turned out Pauline agreed with Will.

“We cannot allow a courier to go of to other countries while pregnant Alyss.” She had told her.

“In no way does being pregnant effect my diplomatic capabilities.” Alyss replied.

“What if you were hurt? Or went into an early labor? What if there were a repeat of what happened at Castle Macindaw? We can’t risk it. It’s policy, and it’s not one I am willing to break.”

So Alyss worked in the offices at Castle Redmont, occasionally going to the nearby fiefs. Will unfortunately was not able to stay as local as his wife.

“You’ll want to use your paternity leave once the baby comes Will, trust me.” Crowley told him.

Will hated leaving his wife and unborn child, but the missions he was assigned to never lasted more than a couple weeks. Will wasn’t sure if he had Crowley or simple serendipity to thank, but he was grateful none the less.

Alyss went into labor just before dawn on April 27th. She had barely realized what was happening when Will’s eyes flew one and he sat up in their bed, her minor movements triggering some protective instinct that woke him.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Is it the baby?”

“Will, slow down. Both of us are fine, but I think it’s time. “

“Ok, right, ok. This is fine. You are fine. The baby is fine. We are fine. We can do this.” Will said to himself, repeating it like a mantra as he got up from bed and got dressed in a hurry. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn’t do the buttons up on his shirt. After a couple attempts he abandoned the endeavor all together, leaving the shirt open. Alyss smiled at her husband.

“Come here Will.” He rushed over to her, hands hovering uselessly in case she needed something, anything, from him.

“As much as I am enjoying the view,” She said as she started to do up the buttons, “I don’t think you should be running off to Castle Redmont to fetch the physician with your shirt flapping in the wind.” She rested her hand over his heart and felt it racing under his shirt.

“I’d go fully naked if it meant getting you help.”

She laughed, “Now that is something I’d like to see. And I sure I’m not the only one.” She muttered the second half, but Will still heard it.

“I doubt that” Will snorted self deprecatingly. Alyss rolled her eyes. Will’s body was a far cry from the skinny 15 year old he used to be and it seemed as though all of the women in Redmont had taken notice. It spoke volumes to Will’s humility and devotion to Alyss that he had yet to notice all of the stares and flirtatious smiles and winks that have been directed towards him (and that have increased tenfold since Alyss’ baby bump had started showing).

“Go get the doctor and Pauline, the baby and I will be fine.”

“I will be back as quick as I can.” Will kissed his wife’s forehead then ran out the door, grabbing his cloak as he left.

Will sat outside with Halt and Ebony while Pauline and the physician helped Alyss inside. It took hours and Will was shaking the entire time, Halt’s attempts to calm him down proving to be fruitless. Eventually there was a sharp cry. Will leaped to his feet and was at the cabin door just as Pauline openned it.

“It’s a girl Will!” Pauline beamed at Will, her excitement making her cheeks rosy.

Will rushed to the bedroom, squeezing Pauline’s shoulder as he passed. Behind him, he could hear Pauline tell Halt the news. Will froze in his room’s doorway. His bed held his entire world. His stunning wife, clearly exhausted from the birth, blonde hair messy and sticking to her face with sweat, but eyes and smile shining, was cradling the most perfect baby Will had ever seen. The sight was almost too much for him, and he had to lean against the wall to stay up right.

“Come meet your daughter Will.” Alyss said softly. Will crossed the room then carefully inched onto the bed until he was next to Alyss, resting his back against the headboard.

“She’s perfect,” Alyss whispered.

“Like mother like daughter.” Will teased, but his voice broke as he said “daughter”.

“I can’t believe I’m a dad Alyss. I have a daughter. What do I know about raising a little girl?” Will rubbed his hands over his face. Alyss wanted to grab his hands but her arms were holding their daughter so instead she kicked his leg lightly.

“Hey, you’re not alone in this. We have each other. You are never going to have to do this alone, okay? I can handle the dresses and the crushes and the monthlies, and you can handle all of the worrying and over protecting and making dad jokes.” Alyss grinned at her husband and he let out a short laugh. That was probably a pretty accurate picture of their future.

“We’re us Will,” She continued, “we can do anything if we are working together.”

Tears were threatening to spill from Will’s eyes. The love he was feeling for his little family felt overwhelming.

“I don’t know what I have done to have such a perfect wife and daughter, but I promise I will spend the rest of my days trying to be a man deserving of the life I have.”

Alyss had just fallen asleep when the doctor came back in. Will was holding his daughter, pacing the room and rocking her in his arms. He had undone the top half of his shirt buttons so that the baby’s smooth cheek was resting on his skin. Before she fell asleep, Alyss had told him that it was important for the baby’s skin to touch his. “It will help you bond with her.” She had said.

“You’re a natural.” The doctor said. Will turned to look at the man and grinned.

“To be honest, I am terrified. I keep thinking “don’t you dare drop her”. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to her being so small.”

“She’ll grow. And you will look back someday and wish you could turn the clock back so you could do it all over again.”

“You sound as if you are speaking from experience, do you have children?”

“Yes, four of them. The youngest just turn twelve and I still find myself yearning to hold them like that, just one more time. ”

“Any words of wisdom for a rookie?”

The doctor smiled. “All children truly need are love and protection. If you give them that, everything else will fall into place.”

They talked for a bit longer, but as the sun began to sink low in the sky the doctor excused himself. “I really should be on my way.”

“Is there anything I should look out for? Any complications?” Will asked nervously. He had felt calm while the physician was just across the hall from Alyss and his daughter, but the thought of him leaving and taking his medical knowledge and experience with him stirred up Will’s anxiety once again. Pauline and Halt had left an hour ago to get some rest, so he would be alone with his wife and child for the first time all day.

“She bleed a bit, but that’s not unusual in childbirth. If she starts to bleed heavily, send for me. But I wouldn’t be too concerned. This was her first child and she’s a young, healthy woman.”

Will thanked the doctor and saw him out, then he joined him little family who were asleep in his bed.

Will didn’t know what woke him up. The baby wasn’t crying. Alyss was still besides him. He almost went back to sleep, but he had been trained to trust his instincts, so he sat up and checked on their daughter who was laying in her cot beside him. She was sound asleep, breathing softy. Satisfied that she was safe, he looked over at Alyss. The moonlight streaming through their window cast a white light on the room, causing her skin to look fair and angelic. He stood from the bed to check the front door. Neither Ebony nor Tug had made any noise, but Will still felt as though something was wrong. He went in to the main living space of the cabin, shutting the bedroom door behind him, careful not to let it bang closed. He lit a small oil lamp that was on the kitchen table. The light wasn’t much, but it illuminated a small area around him. When he turned to the front door, a spot of red on the edge of his sleep pants caught his attention. Will touched it. Blood. He patted his leg looking for a wound but couldn’t find one. Then a chill went through him.

Alyss. The blood has to be Alyss’.

Will spun around and rushed back to his bedroom, holding the lamp in one hand and flinging the door open with the other. The door hit the wall with the force and the noise startled the baby. She woke and began to cry. Will didn’t go over to comfort her, instead he went over to Alyss. With the clearer light of the lamp, he could see that the paleness he chalked up to being a trick of the moonlight had actually gotten worse. He shook her shoulder.

“Alyss! Alyss wake up love. Wake up!” She moaned but didn’t open her eyes. Will put two of his fingers against her neck and felt her heart beating rapidly. He pulled back the sheets and choked on a surprised cry. His wife was laying in a pool of blood. He stared for a moment, shock and fear causing his mind to go blank and his body freeze. Then the irony smell of blood crashed over him, forcing him back in action.

“Hold on love, I am going to get help. Everything is going to be okay. Please just hold on.”

Will ran out of his cabin like a bat out of hell. He didn’t even take his boots or his cloak. He jumped on Tug and galloped bareback over to Castle Redmont. He didn’t even dismount, he just rode through the courtyard and started to yell for the doctor. A pair of guards came over.

“Ranger Treaty, what is the emergency?” The senior guard asked.

“Have the doctor come to my cabin as fast as possible. Tell him my wife is bleeding. Tell him it is a matter of life or death.” Then he took off, riding back to his home. Back to his family.

What happened next was a blur around Will. He held Alyss until the doctor and a midwife arrived. They tried to remove him from the room but he refused. He yelled that the only way he would leave his wife is if someone killed him. So he stayed, pushed uselessly into a corner of the room, hands gripping the sides of his head, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

The doctor and nurse tried to help her, but by the time the had gotten to her, she had lost too much blood. Will watched the physician put his fingers to her throat. He face said it all. He turned to the nurse and gave the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of his head. But Will saw it.

“NO!” It came out as a battle cry as he rush towards his wife, crashing to his knees at the side of the bed. The once white sheets of their bed were now soaked with blood and he felt it seeping through his nightshirt when he leaned on the bed to clutch her hands with his.

“Don’t leave me Alyss. Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I can’t. Don’t leave me love. I promise I will be the perfect husband if you stay with me. You will want for nothing my darling just stay with me. I can’t lose you.” His voice cracked and every inch of his body was shaking. Massive sobs raked his body and his breaths came quick and sharp as panic tightened his chest. The doctor placed a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder.

“I am sorry Will. She’s gone.”

There was a moment of deafening silence.

Then Will screamed.

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction friday #please don’t leave me #will treaty #alyss mainwaring #ranger’s appre FanFiction

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starkskypines · 3 years

Text

even if it’s only in my imagination

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: You daydream about Bucky after a run-in in the hall of your shared apartment building. A simple case of wrong timing with the yearning for what could have been.

warnings: none

word count: 1.2k

a/n: This was written for day 2 of the Swoon June 2021 prompts: daydream.

***

It’s been a long day at work, and you’re tired and just want to go home, shower, and sleep. So of course that’s the day you have to grab groceries, and it’s raining. Wet and tired, you stalk through the doors of your apartment building, and you thank your luck that the elevators are working. You ride to your floor and try to ignore the way your feet squish in your tennis shoes. You wished you had thought to wear rain boots, but you hadn’t, so you tried to forget the cold wetness in between your toes by focusing on the cold wetness of your hair. You could imagine that you’d gotten out of the shower and were heading to bed where your fluffy blankets waited for you.

The elevator door dings, and you step out and hurry toward your apartment door. You shift the grocery bags as you walk and fumble to get your keys out of your purse. Your eyes are down, so you never saw the hit coming.

You were lying on the floor in a heaping wet mess before you knew what happened, the contents of your purse and grocery bags strewn across the hall.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

You blink up at the voice and see that it belongs to your hottie neighbor. You don’t let yourself groan aloud, but internally you are cursing this day. Of course the hottest guy on the planet had to see you when you were a literal mess.

“It’s fine,” you say and push to your knees as you go to gather up the items from your purse.

“No, no, I’m really sorry, doll. I didn’t even see you. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” Bucky bent and began to pick up the items from your grocery bags.

You don’t respond as you finish picking up the remaining items and throwing them back into your purse. You stand, angry at the wet squish your shoes make, at the feeling of hair plastered to your neck, at the way your jeans cling to your legs. Of course, Bucky looks flawless, wearing a button down shirt with a black jacket, and jeans that shouldn’t look that good on a person. You roll your eyes heavenward wishing that you lived any other life.

You focus back on Bucky as he finishes picking up your groceries, and then he turns back to you with both bags in his hands and a shy boyish smile on his lips. “It was an accident I promise.”

“Like I thought you purposely ran into me?” you scoff and go to unlock your door. “All’s forgiven if you’ll carry those inside for me.”

“Of course, doll.”

Your nose scrunches up as you process the endearment. Bucky looks like a ‘babe’ guy. Not an old fashioned term from what? The thirties? Forties? But then again, he does wear those gloves all the time. You wonder if you’re letting your attraction for the man cloud your judgement of him. With the way today has been going for you, he could be a murderer, and inviting him into your apartment would be a seriously foolish idea.

You finish unlocking the door with a sigh and hope that Bucky is the decent guy you have him pegged for.

“Just set them on the table.” You motion to the table that’s on the wall next to the door.

Bucky sets the bags there. “Again, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for carrying them inside.”

“Yeah.” He nods and smiles. “Take care.” He stares at you a moment longer, a soft look on his face, and you want to say something, anything, but you know anything that might come out of your mouth right now will not be taken the way you intend.

Bucky tilts his head into a slow nod.

“I look forward to seeing you again.” He smiles again, sending flutters through your stomach.

You shut the door behind him when he leaves. You place your purse on the table and pick up the grocery bags and take them to the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how different things could’ve been had you run into Bucky on any other day. One where you weren’t soaked to the bone, where your hair looked nice and beautiful, where you weren’t dead tired and one where Bucky didn’t see that you had five frozen dinner meals and one carton of blueberries, one bag of plums, plus another bag of miscellaneous toiletries.

You set to putting those items away in their proper locations as you allow yourself to think about how tonight’s incident could’ve gone.

You could’ve been wearing your best jeans, had a nice shirt on, your hair done, your makeup done in a soft romantic look. And Bucky would’ve bumped into you and you would’ve just had your purse and you’d still have gone flying and the contents of your purse would be strewn on the ground, but you wouldn’t be soaking wet. And there would be no plop and squish when you fell.

And this time you would stay on the floor a moment longer and when Bucky offered his hand to help you to your feet you would take it. And his hand would be warm in yours despite the gloves. And your eyes would meet, his blue eyes staring into you. He’d smile, with that soft one that he’d just bestowed on you briefly, the one that would light up an entire room with it’s warmth. And you’d smile back and he’d say something like, “You look beautiful today. Hope I didn’t ruin that by knocking you over.”

You’d respond with, “You’re fine, Bucky. No harm done.” And then the two of you would drop to the floor to pick up the items that had fallen out of your purse. He’d smile at you again and ask to make it up to you. “...maybe with dinner?” He’d be shy about asking you out, unsure of himself. And you’d rush to assure him, quickly agreeing and embarrassing yourself with the speed and volume of your “yes.”

And he’d smile in relief and you’d both stand and stare at each other for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell, and then finally he’d nod. And you’d mirror him.

And then he’d say, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, seven o’clock.” And you’d respond that you’re looking forward to it and then he’d walk away, and you’d watch him go and when he turned his head over his shoulder he’d catch you and his smile would widen and he’d wave and then he’d be gone. But you’d have the assurance of seeing him again soon.

You close the door to your fridge. Of course, that’s not what happened, and you don’t know when you’ll see Bucky again, despite his casual salutation that he would look forward to seeing you again. That might be true, but he won’t be asking you out after seeing you look like a drowned rat.

You shake off your daydream and the run-in with Bucky as something that isn’t possible and head to go take a shower.

You don’t know–because how could you–that Bucky spent the entire elevator ride to the lobby thinking about how he could’ve done things differently, how he could’ve found the courage to ask you out in about a dozen different ways. You don’t know that he’s just as resigned to the impossibility of anything between the two of you and keeps dreams of something more only in his head. Just the same as you do.

#lots of yearning and pining in this one #this is tfatws bucky here in this fic #swoonjune2021 #day 2 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #fatws bucky #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes imagine

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

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kindnessisweakness2 · 3 years

Text

Delusional - Part 9!

When Delaney woke up she didn't recognize anything around her. One thing she did know is she felt like she had been hit by a truck. Looking around her, the dimly lit room was empty apart from a shabby wooden table a few feet infront of her with a camera tripod placed in the centre. Looking down at the uncomfortable chair she was sat in she silently thanked god she was still in her shorts and Jax’s T-shirt she wore yesterday. As her head pounded painfully she tried to think back to yesterday and how the hell she ended up here. She couldnt remember anything after crying in the bathroom as Jax left. Jax. Oh God. He was probably hauled up with Tara making up for lost time. he probably didnt even know she was gone. Tears welled in her eyes as she realised no one was looking for her. No one knew she was gone. Before she could let herself panic too much the heavy steel door to the right of the room was slammed open. Out walked Kevin and Delaneys stomach dropped heavily. Yes Kevin was weird but he couldnt be the matermind behind this. NO. Delaney was 100% sure there was something else to this. She didnt have to wait long to get her answer either. A few minutes later Alex followed Kevin into the cold room with a video camera held tightly in his hands. Delaney Knew she was right. Her Jaw fell slack as she made eye contact with the man that ruined her life and nearly killed her. The man she was convinced for years she loved deeply. “Hey Babe, Did you miss me?” Alex smirked at the shock that was still clear on he face. “What? W-why? H-how?” Delaney could barley speak never mind stutter the small questions she do desperately wanted answers to. “Oh sweetie ill explain everything dont you worry. But first things first-” Alex raised his finger dramatically and turned to the video camera that now sat firmly on the tripod. Pressing the ON button and connecting a cable it beeped to life. “ I dont think your little Biker Bitch will want to miss out on this.” Before Delaney could say anything a chain was tightly hooked to the handcuffs around her wrists and yanked upwards. In seconds she was hung from the ceiling with her arms suspended above her head. Gasping in pain she clenched her eyes shut tightly. Her shoulders were on fire immediately and her toes barley brushed the damp floor. Glaring at Alex as he came to stand Beside her Delaney scoffed. “So whats the plan? Kill me? Send the video to the club? You know they’ll kill you right? You kill me and Jax will come for your head.” Alex burst out laughing and shook his head. “Oh Baby girl, you’ve grown some balls since you were mine.” Grabbing her face tightly he yanked her forward on the chain so she was closer to the camera. “This is being streamed to the Clubhouse as we speak. Kevin here managed to change the connection at the last beer delivery and you didnt even notice.” Tutting at her sarcastically Alex let go of her face and smiled at her. “Kevin here is a sucker for a pretty face. He fell for you pretty quickly. I find it quite rude you weren’t particularly nice about the gifts he left for you. The notes were me ofcourse. Poor Kevin here doesnt have the same artistic flare as me.” Alex’s smile was sinister as he turned from Delaney to take a Knife from Kevin. Delaney’s stomach turned as he made his way back towards her and grabbed her neck tightly so she couldnt flinch away. The grin on his face made Delaney feel sick as he cut the navy blue SAMCRO T-shirt from her body. She could only hope that whatever it was he had planned for her, he would kill her quick.

The slamming of the clubhouse door hinted at Jax’s arrival. Half sack had called him to explain what showed up on the bar TV and within minutes every club member and Gemma was crowded around the large screen. Jax’s heart broke as his eyes locked on Delaney’s fearful ones. She was hung from the ceiling in nothing but a black lace bra and black cycle shorts. “So this is what you’ve been planning for the year we’ve been seperated? Finding me a stalker and planning your revenge?” Delaney spat angrily. Kevin stood in the corner just staring ad her as she was suspended half naked in the dirty room and it made her want to vomit. Jax turned up the volume on the TV just as Alex came into view. Looking at his mother Jax’s eyes were on fire with anger. “I thought you said he left her and moved back to England?” Gemma glared at her son. “ And i thought you were meant to be protecting her? You left her and the bastard swooped in and took her! I’m not the only one with some explaining to do am i?!” Jax shook his head and turned back to the screen. Now was not the time to argue with his impossible mother. He needed to focus on finding Delaney. He focused his attention back on the screen just in time to see Alex put the Knife to her neck. “You were mine. You really think i was going to let you go that easy? We would still be together if it wasnt for Jaxon Teller. You didnt care about me anymore once you met him.” Alex Gripped Delaney by the Hair and pulled her head back exposing her neck more. “You’re wrong! About everything.” Gasping in pain as strands of her hair were pulled out by the roots Delaney had to argue. She couldnt let him blame everything on Jax. “You’re just upset you lost your fucking punchbag! You beat me almost every day i was with you for nothing. The day i got that Job at Teller-Morrow was the day i got part of my life back. I wasnt just your housewife anymore. I had my own money and i was saving up to leave you.” Alex stepped away from Delaney his face crimson red with anger, But with tears streaming down her face she continued to tell him the truth. Her Truth. He needed to know just how much of a monster he was. “Then i came home late from a club party late, they’d asked me to work the bar, do you remember? How you accused me of sleeping with every member? How you told me the only thing i was good for was being passed around? That no one would ever want me?! Do you remember Alex? How you beat me so bad my eyes were swollen shut for days. How i was unconscious on our kitchen floor for 2 days. How you stomped on my chest the next morning and broke 4 of my ribs because i physically couldnt get up and make you breakfast! How you made me clean ourhouse on my hands and knees because i was in too weak, in too much pain to stand!” Alex scoffed as Delaney sobbed. “You fucking deserved it! You were sleeping with Teller behind my back! you just wanted to get rid of me so you could be with him. you never paid me any attention and hung around him like a desperate whore. You think i dont remember those times i came to pick you up from work to see you flirting with him right infront of my face. Laughing and Giggling like a teenage school girl! You were practically begging for him!”

Grabbing hold of the chain Delaney was tied to he spun her around. Delaney knew what was coming next and couldnt help but squeeze her eyes shut in fear. “You didn't waste any time did you you bitch? you got his crow tattooed across your shoulders. Isn’t that how that sordid little club marks women as theirs?” Delaney stayed silent and hung her head as she felt Alex press the knife into the middle of her back where Jax’s initals sat underneath the black crow in flight that stretched across her upper back and shoulders. “Its not like that.” Delaney muttered as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh did he mark you as his then threw you away like the cheap little bitch you always have been? Poor Delaney, no one ever wanted you so you throw yourself at the first man that looks your way.” More tears fell from her eyes as she Shook her head, “You know NOTHING about him. He’s more of a man than you’ll EVER be. He’s a good person, Hes loyal and he would do anything for family. You? Youre a fucking coward.” Alex’s face was like thunder. Pulling the chain hard making her yelp in pain as she was quickly turned to face him he punched her in the face making her swing backwards. Feeling the blood run down her lips Delaney grinned as she met Alex’s brown eyes. “Point proven! You’ll put your hands on a woman but you’d never hit a man. As a Great friend of mine would say you’re a Slimy Wee Bastard.” Her heart clenched painfully as she thought of Chibs he was like a father to her and she wouldnt even get to say goodbye.

Back at the Club house the other members of SAMCRO couldnt hide their shock at the revelation that Delaney had Jax’s Crow. “You marked her?” Clay nearly exploded. “You marked her as shes not even your old lady?!” Gemma didnt even jumped to her sons defence as Clay shoved Jax hard. “Its not like that. It just happened!” Jax didnt bother trying to explain. There was so much more they didnt know about his and Delaneys relationship. “But what if she wants to be with another guy? Maybe another member?” Jax lunged for the prospect at the thought of his girl being with someone else. “O-or E-even a-another guy. J-just a normal regular guy?” Juice smacked Half sack around the head for his stupidity as Opie pulled Jax back from ripping the prospect apart. “Can we please focus on trying to find her? Every minute she’s with that psycho is another minute we are closer to him Killing her.” Gemma refocused everyones attention back on the screen trying to find anything that looked familiar in the room. The needed to work out where this Idiot would take her. Jax mentally made one promise as he watched Delaneys terrified eyes. Once he had her safe in his arms. There was no way he was ever letting her go.

#sons of anarchy #Jax Teller #jax teller x reader #soa imagine #soa fanfiction

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masonscig · 3 years

Text

bittersweet

part two

pairing | felix x flor

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. minors dni.

author’s note | so i wanted to write like 2 more parts to this, but honestly... i feel like this turned out great. also yes, i probably should’ve made this a lot shorter, but the prompt got away from me as per usual. not proofread because i’m tired :/ this is for day seven of hot in wayhaven, aftercare!

•─────────────────•

Things have been weird since that night.

She just kind of went back to treating him exactly the same as she had before. She held him at arms’ length like she did with everyone she was wary of letting in.

He was sure that this time he’d made progress.

For the few months leading up till he almost throat fucked her in her dimly lit apartment, she’d been warming up to him.

He managed a few genuine smiles and laughs despite trying less hard to do so. He caught her watching him across the room during meetings, trainings, briefings… anytime they weren’t alone, he caught her staring at least once.

She’d even started asking about him. Any time he was late to a meeting, she bugged Mason with a punch to the shoulder or a scuff of her shoe against the toe of his own.

Didn’t matter how much progress he’d made if it’d just been ruined by one big fuck up on both of their ends.

This particular night, Felix is mulling over the events leading up to when she left, still trying to figure out where things went wrong.

He paces around the room once, twice, before plopping into his giant bean bag chair.

Before he can really settle in there, he’s restless again, jumping to his feet to cross the room once again, climbing into the hammock in the corner.

This isn’t right, either, he huffs to himself, rolling awkwardly out of the hammock and to the middle of the room, flinging himself onto his bed.

He picks up the Gameboy on his nightstand, tap-tap-tapping away on full volume until he hears a single loud thud against the wall across from him.

Abandoning his game of Galaga, he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at Mason’s feeble attempts to silence him. Tossing the Gameboy to the foot of his bed, he opts instead to grab his tamagotchi, feeding his pet till he’s bored again.

He has lots of things. And these things keep him occupied and hold his attention for a while.

But none of them keep his attention long enough to satiate his wandering mind.

Flor’s been his main focus for a while, but it’s particularly bad this week since she’s taken a vacation for the first time since he’s met her.

It’s not even that she’s a hard worker – she’s just on such bad terms with the captain that she never bothered asking for days off when she knew she wouldn’t get them even if she had plans to get outta town.

Her being on vacation doesn’t bother him at all – it’s the way he’s got unfinished business and he can’t do anything about it.

He can’t seem to think of anything else without her creeping into the back of his mind one way or the other.

He twists off of the bed and walks to his dresser, where his phone’s charging on its surface.

He’s confused. He misses her, he’s angry at her, he wants her –

To say he’s confused is an understatement, really.

He’s been patient, he’s been kind, he’s been understanding – and for her to ignore him for the entire summer?

He’d been counting down the days till they got back to normal. He’s in the hundreds now, and there’s no end in sight.

There’s two endings if he decides to fix it tonight – he’s either getting treated better, or he moves on from her.

The latter option is a painful thought, one he doesn’t give himself time to digest before he taps the number at the top of his favorites.

The phone rings once, twice, and his finger hovers over the end call button. He’s so close to chickening out – this is an awful idea –

“What? Huh?” Flor asks, voice raspy and twinged with sleep. She yawns around her greeting, and he can picture her running a hand through her thick dyed hair. “Who is this?”

Does she really not even have his number saved?

“Uh, it’s Felix. I, um, this is a check in call,” he lies, tensing immediately.

Why’s that his knee jerk reaction? Two seconds into the call and he’s already making excuses instead of standing up for himself.

He really can’t help it, though. She’s so intimidating.

“It’s four thirty in the fucking morning,” she groans. “If you and your little team aren’t gonna respect my sleeping schedule consider any calls from this point on fucking rejected.”

“No, no, I, uh –”

He has no excuses. He can’t lie again… and she already sounds upset, and it’d make the rest of the call even more unpleasant.

“I lied. It’s not a check up,” he sits up in bed, nervously fiddling with the tamagotchi.

“Well then what is it?” She spits, clearly cranky and sleep deprived.

“I have some things I need to say to you, and… I, uh, I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he twists the keychain around his finger, but tosses his little friend to the end of his bed alongside his Gameboy. He needs to focus.

She’s silent. He knows he’s on limited time.

“I… miss you.”

She goes silent, the static of the phone crackling because of both of their poor signals.

“Thanks.”

The one word response has him silently screaming at himself – he flings himself back on the bed, kicking his legs and flailing.

I miss you. Thanks.

The most embarrassing response he could’ve ever gotten.

“I was gonna say more than that. I’m just… gathering the courage,” he says, takes a deep breath, anchors himself.

“I don’t like how you’ve been treating me, Flor, honestly, and I think you owe me an apology.”

“Oh, I do,” she responds, a deadpan question, nearly mocking.

“Yeah, you do,” Felix bites back immediately, surprised even at himself with how forceful he’s being. “You almost fucked me at the beginning of summer, and now you’re not talking to me? I thought we were, I don’t know, friends at least? I know I’m not your Tina and I never will be, but I want to be there for you.”

“I’m not…” she trails off, and there’s a swishing sound like she’s shifting in bed. “Trying to avoid you, alright? It just seems like that, I guess.”

He can’t stop his hand from clenching into a tight fist, can’t stop it from shaking with rage, can’t stop the venom bubbling up his throat and dripping off his tongue.

“Don’t… tell me how to feel, Flor. I’m upset, so don’t try to downplay it, okay? I know you’re trying to avoid me, and that’s fine, I guess, as long as you, I dunno, let me move on.”

“Move on?” She asks, her tone (surprisingly) cushioned with sincerity.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he stands, striding across the room to the window, and back to the door, pacing (He’s wondering if she’s pacing too). “I like you a lot, but I have to protect myself, too, y’know? If you don’t want me around, you’ve gotta tell me so that I can stop, uh, investing too much of myself into… this.”

“Felix…” she sighs, and quiets. “I know you’re looking for answers, but I don’t have them. I don’t know.”

“So, what, that’s it then?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. That’s it.”

Flor sounds unsure, but he’s not gonna press her further. It hurts, but he has to move on or she’ll consume him in a fiery blaze.

He’s let the flames lick at him, but when it comes down to it, he can’t handle the inferno. He’s walking away before he gets burned, when all he wants to do is be engulfed by her.

It’s easier this way, in theory, but saying goodbye is harder than he’s ever anticipated.

“Bye, Flor. Sweet dreams.”

He disconnects before she can say another word, and he crumples onto his bed, pulling his knees to his chest.

He’s losing another person he cares about, and just like last time, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Tears are falling freely now, and he angrily wipes them away with a rough backhand.

It’s not her fault. It’s not your fault. You’re just not compatible.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he’s drifting off to sleep. He’ll deal with Rebecca and Unit Bravo in the morning.

––––

Flor clutches the phone in her hand, her jaw tight.

She didn’t get the last word, and she sure as hell didn’t get to say what she wanted to say.

Felix was hurting and she couldn’t even manage kindness for one goddamn moment.

No one asks to be emotionally detached – it's just easier that way, for Flor, at least.

Wading through the mess of her apartment, she steps into the bare kitchen. Pours herself a cup of water. Chugs it to clear her head.

When that doesn’t do the trick, she takes a hefty shot of tequila. Bad idea, but the burn gives her a sense of clarity she doesn’t have when she’s completely sober.

You’ve been dragging your fucking feet for years now. Get the hell over it. Go to him. Be with him.

Every instinct she has is dragging her towards the front door where her car keys hang. Another bad idea, as per usual.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoots him a quick text. Come over. Please. We need to talk in person.

It’s not the wisest idea for her to face her problems head on, but the tiny, reasonable part of Flor’s mind is telling her she needs to fight for him instead of letting him slip through her fingers.

––––

He doesn’t see the text till an hour and a half after she’s sent it.

It’s just past six in the morning. The sun’s just barely creeping its way into his room, golden streaks across his wood floor.

He assumes she just wants the last word and that’s why she sent it – but an even louder part of him entertains the “what ifs” that are bouncing around his mind.

What if she wants to apologize? What if she wants to hear how I feel? And tell me where her head’s at?

After going back and forth for a few minutes, impulse wins, and he’s tossing on a vibrant graphic tee and shorts before he sprints out the door.

Nate’s the only one up, reading the newspaper and filling out the crossword puzzles in the soft lighting of the kitchen, and he shoots Felix a knowing look of encouragement.

Unit Bravo knows how infatuated Felix is with Flor, and they constantly flit between telling him to let her go and chasing after her.

Today’s a good day in that regard – Nate’s given his wordless blessing with nothing but a soft smile.

He’s at her place in ten minutes flat, staring up at the apartment like it’s a creaky, spooky haunted house.

His courage is thinning the closer he steps to her front door. His bones are gelatin, and his brain is equally as mushy.

It’s not an ideal state, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance like this. Get the courage again like this.

Rapping his knuckles against the stained door, he waits. He rocks back on his heels, taps his feet, does anything he can to get the jitters out of his system.

When the door finally does open, his heart leaps at the sight of her.

Her hair’s a mess. Her leftover eyeliner is smudged all around her eyes. Her dark eyes are lined with red from lack of sleep. She looks exhausted.

“You came.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and steps into her apartment when she gestures for him to come in.

She shuts the door behind him, and this time instead of shoving him up against the door to kiss him, she takes his hand.

Laces her fingers through his own, tugs him toward her couch.

He doesn’t know how to start this conversation, and from the looks of it, neither does she.

“What’s up?” He asks, simply, feeling like an idiot almost instantly for making things that casual.

“I’m…” she trails off, nearly black irises softening when she looks at him. He could live in those midnight pools.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He raises both brows in surprise, and his gaze flits to their hands. She’s death gripping one of his hands with both of hers, her jaw set.

“Uh –”

“I’m getting to the why. I just don’t know how to say it –”

She grunts, shifting on the couch. “I’m not a nice person. You know that.”

“You’re nice in your own way,” he offers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

“God, Felix, I’m a mean bitter bitch. Don’t sugar coat it,” she laughs. “I don’t really wanna be this way, but it’s easier than getting… invested in people.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“It’s just easier to shut people out than to have expectations for them,” she starts, shrugging. “And having them expect things from you, too.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want us to have expectations for each other?” He asks.

“I’m gonna say this as bluntly and straight forward as I can, because I don’t think I can do anything else,” she answers after taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you in my life,” she holds his eyes, speaking as earnestly as she can manage. “But I need you to be patient with me. I don’t know how to do… this. I don’t know how to get close to people anymore. Last time I did it was fucking toxic and I told myself never again.”

“Bobby,” he murmurs, and she nods.

“If you want me, too, we’ll both have to compromise,” she continues, stiffening a little like she’s bracing for impact. “I have to get used to the way you do things, and you’ll have to get used to the way I am, too. But I promise you, Felix, I’m gonna try.”

“Try what?” His voice is a little shaky, and she’s coming towards him, slowly closing the gap between them.

“I’m gonna try to love you, if you’ll try to love me,” she whispers, her jaw set again.

That’s all he needed to hear.

He closes his eyes and kisses her sweetly, softly, letting go of her hands so he can cup her face.

She’s so precious to him, so he cradles her face like the gem she is.

“Flor…” Her name’s a quiet promise as it falls from his lips.

I promise as long as you’re trying, I’ll try, too.

She clutches his hips as she kisses him, moaning sweetly into his mouth.

He doesn’t know when she starts slowly tugging his clothes off, but soon enough, they’re skin to skin, and he can’t tell where his body ends and hers begins.

She’s different this time, he notices. She’s more timid. Maybe she’s never been taken care of like this before.

As he bows his head between her legs, he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be her favorite or not.

She’s slack jawed and grasping at his head, squeezing her tattooed thighs around his face.

God, she’s beautiful, all spread out for him – she’s a gift of brown skin (and a pretty pink pussy).

She writhes and pants with each stroke of his tongue, his name broken and garbled on her lips.

When she tugs his head upwards to press sloppy kisses on his mouth, he knows she wants more.

“Flor…” he trails off, feeling sweat bead on the back of his neck. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Only if you want to, doll.”

God, he can barely breathe. A proposition and a pet name. To most, that’s nothing. But to him, it’s the entire world.

She anchors herself on top of him and settles onto his cock, keeping direct eye contact while she stretches around him.

His eyes are fluttering shut, rolling back, and his head is threatening to loll to the side – she grabs his cheeks between her hand and tugs him back up, her half lidded eyes lustful and determined.

“I want to see you… watch me, and I’ll watch you,” she pants as she flexes her hips, his tip the only part inside of her, but she flexes again, taking all of him (every delicious inch).

“Fuck,” he curses, and she grins, bouncing against him.

He fists his hands at her hips, running a hand up her stomach to rest at the barbed wire tattoos lining her under boob. He can’t figure out what part of her he wants to touch so he opts for it all, squeezing, nipping, kissing every piece of skin his hands and mouth can cover.

“You feel so fucking good around me, doll – fuck me just like that,” she grunts as he bucks up into her.

He’s never been one to have a filthy mouth, but boy does he fucking love it.

The sun’s fully engulfing her living room at this point, the golden glow warming both of their exposed skin already, glistening in the Wayhaven sunrise.

She’s so pretty like this. She’s in her element like this, too. Confident.

The nervous, rigid version of herself was long gone.

She’s opening up to him. Albeit emotionally and physically, she’s trying. She’s blooming for him.

Flor means flower right? She’s finally in season, and it’s worth the wait.

––––

In the heat of it all, they’ve kicked all her clean laundry to the floor, but she grabbed a thin blanket from the top to cover them.

She’s cuddled up to him on the small couch, her head resting on his sweat slicked chest.

They’d been at it for a while when they both finally came. He didn’t expect her to want to cuddle, but they did.

“We probably need to clean up, huh?” she murmurs, soft kisses against his skin.

“Lemme take care of it,” he grins, crawling over her before she can protest.

He’s back in a flash with a damp towel and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking the bottle from him. When she tries to grab the damp towel, he holds it away from her.

“Can I clean you up?” He asks timidly.

Flor shrugs, mouth still on the bottle. “Okay.”

He bends to his knees and pulls the blanket away, dragging the cloth gently along her thighs, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

He folds the towel and rubs her stomach and thighs again, before kissing her knee. “You’re so pretty.”

Before he can stand up, she grabs his arm and tugs him back down for a long kiss.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shiny, soft. Midnight pools, and he’s submerged in them.

“I’ve never been fucked by someone who cares about me like you do.”

He grins and pulls her in for a kiss again.

“Well, get used to the feeling.”

He wants every messy, unpolished part of Flor he can get, from her crass humor to her sailor’s mouth.

This is the farthest they’ve ever taken things, yeah, but he’s willing to go further and further with her, as long as she’ll have him.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #felix hauville #twc detective #hotwayhavensummer #my fic #felix x flor #detective flor majano #n*fw

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