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nochuvalencia · 3 years

Text

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

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angelguk · 3 years

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prompt: jock!jaykay sending oc to class with a load of his fresh cum in her p*ssy 🤓 hes like putting her panties back on her, patting said p*ssy like a good girl and saying shit like “be a good girl for me and keep it inside as long as you can, ok?” with a loving kiss on her forehead 🥰 n so she goes about her day trying so hard to keep it all inside even tho she can feel it sloshing inside her lmaoooo i feel like he’d be totally into nasty shit 🤪🤪

see yeah i’ve been thinking about this right......like....*clears throat* ahem!

warnings: creampie kink, use of pet name (redacted), dom!jk, fingering, mentions of oral sex

Jeongguk looks smug. It’s a look you’re still growing accustomed too as it’s not the usual result of his triumphs on the lacrosse fields or his not so subtle flexes in the middle of the gym garnering him a folk of admirers. Rather it’s because your face is planted in the tousled bed sheets, breath haggard and a warm glow spreading over your skin.

“You good, baby?” He asks like he’s concerned, but there’s a brazenness in his tone that your read clearly.

“No, Jeongguk,” you retort, fingertips languidly reaching out for him. He leans into your touch, broad chest warm under your palm, his lips stretching into a smile that is nothing but sinful. “I think you’ve killed me.”

Your thighs twitch when he yanks you close, settling your body on his with an ease that triggers a flip in your stomach. He’s so stupidly strong it’s mind-numbing, your brain eagerly recalling how he’d pinned you to the bed and fucked you wide up with fervour that should be illegal. Jeongguk just grins at your distress, fingertips delicately wondering down the length of your back.

“You look alive to me,” he murmurs. There’s the nudge of his nose against yours, lips gingerly meeting as your press yourself into him. Breathes that turn into one as his mouth parts yours. He tastes like you, petal lips soft as your bodies melt into one. You don’t even realise your shifting closer until he knocks your legs apart, slotting his hardening cock right between your heat. You’re still wet, dripping actually, and when he bucks up you can’t help the slick that seeps out. You know when he stills that he felt it too, the flood of cum coating your inner thighs. His cum. A lot actually. Apparently Jeongguk loves the idea of you stuffed with it.

“Barely,” you whisper, peeling away when your gaze catches the time on his bedside alarm clock. You have class in a few and judging from the way Jeongguk stares at your body as you shuffle in his lap he might not let you leave this room. It’s with a weak resolve that you ignore the twitch of him between your legs, shifting off the bed. The hand that clamps down on your hip to drag you back was expected, yet your walls still clench tight.

“Where are you going?” Unwavering honey eyes that glimmer with want trap you. You can’t help leaning back in, planting a gentle kiss on his check.

“I’ve got class, Gukkie.” He squeezes your hip in protest when you try to move away.

“Right now?” There’s the needy boy you know, a whine colouring his words as he holds you tight. “Skip it, bunny.”

“Jeongg—

“Missed you so much,” he mumbles, tugging you back down with a force that knocks the air out of your chest. Before you can retort his lips are on your neck, a gentle bite that leaves your skin tender. “So so much. Don’t go just yet.”

“I didn’t see you for three days Jeongguk.”

“Yeah,” he whines. “That’s like a fucking life-time.”

“It was three days, Guk! Three!” You whisper, exasperated. But there’s a heat forming between your legs.

“Didn’t touch myself the entire time too,” he returns, strong hands digging into your hip. “Look how much is leaking out of you. And I’m not done yet.”

“You—you can’t just fucking say that.”

“Why? I mean it. You can take more, I bet that if I—” He slips two fingers in then, your back arching from the intrusion. They slide in easy though, aided by the slick coating your cunt. Your brain shuts down when he curves them just right, aiming for that spot inside of you and has your eye fluttering shut. “So wet, bunny. Look how well you take my fingers.”

“Jeo—ohfuckkk.”

“What?” He says it with that stupid smug smile on his lips. “What do you need, bunny? Hmm? My fingers not enough for you? Do you need another?” He slips in a third before you have time to ask, the tightness in his balls driving his actions. You’re so wet, slick covering his knuckles every time he drives his fingers deep. He can feel his cum dripping from your cunt onto his thigh whenever your hips move too, an automatic movement as your search for something to grind your clit on.

“I need to get to class,” you snap back, a low groan slipping from mouth when he hits deep. “S-seriously, Jeon.”

Something clicks in his brain then, his fingers abruptly leaving the warm heat of your cunt. “Okay, get going.” For some reason you freeze. It’s exactly what you wanted, and yet now you’re to riled up to move. Jeongguk gives your hip a fond pat though, gently pushing you off his lap. “You said you wanted to go, bunny. Get going.”

You move agonisingly slow, searching for your clothes scattered on the floor with a frown plastered on your features. But before you can dress Jeongguk is rising from the bed, moving to stand behind you.

“Bend.” It’s a firm command, one that leaves no room for arguing but you can’t help it, already irritated by his sudden nonchalance.

“Jeongguk—

“I said bend, bunny.” His hands force your hips to move, the shift leaving your cunt on display as a shiver travels through your nerves. He gets low too, silently observing something. You can’t see but with every flutter of your walls his cum drips out, milky white and sticky, leaving your thighs and lips glistening. His cock is heavy against his thigh but he fights back the urge to shove you onto the mattress and fuck you full again. This will do for now.

“Good girl,” Jeongguk murmurs as he rises. You can’t even muster a word, checks flushed by his bold behaviour. He lets you dress unbothered, mumbling something about practise and Coach’s ridiculousness commands as you slide your clothes back on. You respond back because you’re too shocked to ask him what that was about, eyes everywhere but his naked firm built body.

It’s only when you’ve got your lanyard in your hands that he draws close, forcing you to look at him when he fingers dig deep between your lips, the smile tugging at his lips devious. He presses in with purpose, ignoring the hitch in your breathing when your underwear drenches.

“Be a good girl for me and keep it inside as long as you can, okay?”

You nod, brain fuzzy as he places a delicate kiss on your forehead. The contrast between the two touches has your mind spinning. He’s soft but firm in how he owns your body, the reminder that you’re his steadily leaking out of you. He grants your clothed cunt a gentle pat right before you leave, still smiling smugly. Yet, you don’t mind at as much as you did moments ago.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #au: jock!jaykay #ask #anon #yerrrrr jk having a cream pie kink yessir 😁😁😁#sorry if this was not good omg

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spikesbimbo · 3 years

Text

Their kinks/ Turn ons

- Gao, Hirugami, Suna

Cw: Harassment, pet play furry shit, *!degradation!*, *slight* cnc

a/n: i wrote a lot for suna bc we’re the same person

18+ Minors DNI

Gao:

Doesn't have a specific one so its usually a combo of them.

And as confident as he is that doesn't necessarily mean he's also intense/rough. (tbh its gnna be rough no matter what taking his dick but he doesn't mean it, okay?)

Size kink, duh.

He also likes to see your face.

To be more specific seeing the way its twists and turns, sweat dripping down it, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead, the way your eyes can't stay open while he fucks you.

Also lovesss kissing all over you because it gets you wet enough to take him.

“Shhh baby I got you, look at me” he cooed coming up to kiss your lips, lingering on them for what feels like forever.

He started kissing down your neck, all the way down your body until he reached your core, slightly pushing his fingers in, making you let out a deprived moan. Your arms immediately reaching out for him, grabbing onto whatever they could get their hands on, them ultimately landing on his arms and wrists.

“You gotta let go if you want me to make you feel good honey” he softly said, pausing his movement, his fingers now resting on your needy cunt. “Its gonna hurt without prep”

You whined, not being able to voice your wants, instead just dragging his hands away, to which he let you, and scooting yourself up under him under you were pressed against his erection.

“You want it now baby?” he asked, already knowing how drenched you were just from kissing him. The effect he had on you made him gleam, just praising you could turn you into a puddle.

You quickly nodded, with him listening, steadily spreading your legs apart, inching himself inside you. After a few minutes he was almost fully in, you were a sobbing mess, already crying from overstimulation while he told you how much of a good girl you were being.

He started thrusting after you started rocking you hips against his, getting faster with each thrust. He was going insane looking down below him, you tiny little body accommodating his fat cock inside you, fuck.

You couldn’t focus just hearing him whimper and moan “ah fuck” getting to you, hiding the embarssing look on your face with your hands, letting you feel special that you were making him feel this good.

He dragged your hands away from your face finally letting him see those oh so cute expressions you made while he was fucking you, making him get a little too excited as he fucked your harder until he came, him already doing the same to you multiple times. He went limp on your body, cum still in you, you wrapping your arms around him playing with his hair before he muttered “fuck baby you drive me insane.”

Hirugami:

PET PLAY

Pls, put on some animal ears and watch this boy go crazyyy. pls why do you tolerate his furry shit

You can use it to your advantage too

Let's say you did something bad, and now hes upset :(

Go up to him in your little outfit with some puppy ears on accompanied by puppy eyes and boy will forgive you right then and there.

Not without having a little fun first tho ;)

“Your such a little greedy slut” he said, tugging on the tail in your ass making you squirm. Your ass was still sore, littered by his handprints. “You want some one else to fuck you huh? Fuck you with me?”

“N-no daddy.” you cried. “j-just want you, only you” you whimpered trying to prove your innocence, and that the guy you were talking to was just your classmate and nothing more.

“Really puppy?” He said now tugging on your leash pulling you off all fours until your face was eye to eye with his crotch. Did he already know you were telling the truth since the beginning, yes. But he also loved to play with you, getting a high out of the way you were acting.

“Mhmm” you said, nuzzling your check into his thigh, ready to do whatever it takes to make him happy again.

“I only want you daddy, you’re the only one I ever think of.” You said looking up at him with your big eyes, red from crying earlier. God you were too cute, always being his good girl, trying your best to not to disappoint him.

You were such a shy thing behind closed doors, dressing in baggy pants and jackets outside but as soon as you were home all you wore was little frilly dresses, barely covering your ass, cute little aprons, tiny tops with equally tiny booty shorts; striving for his attention in the most roundabout ways.

He turned you around, still on all fours, until your ass was facing him again. Sliding his finger down your slit before shoving them inside you, making you squeal, rocking your hips back into them.

He wasn’t afraid to show you that he was wrapped around your finger, he loved taking care of you just as much as you did him. He continued fingering you, roughly thrusting his fingers in and out of you, while tugging on your tail, suddenly hitting your g spot bringing you to an unexpected orgasm.

Your arms gave out, him grabbing you before you fell, whispering praise into your ear while dragging you into his lap, not caring about the mess all over you.

“L-love you gami.” you muttered curling your head into his arms. One of your puppy ears falling off, the other one sliding down your hair.

“Love you too puppy.” he responded, kissing your forehead, slightly laughing at the state you were in, before taking you two to the bathroom to wash you up.

Is it obvs im a gami fucker?

Suna:

Ok bby boy is most likely into everything, but doesnt care enough/ too tired to try it out

Sooooo, you have to bring it up

And hell glady follow

But deep down he just wants to get his dick wet most of the time.

So idk bout yall but that screams vanilla sex

Just sliding it in you in the morning and rocking you back and forth>>>>> some intense ass long freaky session

But this post is about their kinks so vanilla isn't enough…. sooo restraining if def one of them that you two frequently use.

He’ll either tie up your hands, legs, etc., with whatever he can find or he’ll use his hands.

But dont think his attitude will leave with it. *!degradation!*

“rin” you sleepily groaned, not wanting to be awake at the crack of dawn, his hands working their way up your shirt grabbing your boobs. “Lemme fuck” he whispers into your ear, his chest to your back with his erection poking your ass.

“Rin” you say this time, letting out more of a moan than a groan, him sliding one of his hands down your shorts, resting his fingers on your embarrassingly wet cunt, smirking at the way he made you.

“You have a wet dream bout me princess?” he teased, his breath in your ear. No you didn't have a wet dream about him, you were just… always needy.

You'd hate to admit it, but your boyfriend was quite the sight. You always took pictures of him instead of staring, not wanting him to “bully” you any more. In fact you've even got off to his pictures, but you'd never tell a soul, especially not him.

“Fuck off.” you quickly said, slapping his hands away while scooting away from him, hiding your now flushed face.

He doesn't take that well and moves to grab your wrists above your head with one hand while shoving his fingers in your mouth with the other to get you to shut up, not wanting to hear any more shit come out of that pretty mouth of yours.

“You gonna let me fuck you right now?” he questions, cupping your jaw with the hand that still has his fingers in your mouth, already knowing he was gonna get what he wanted.

You couldn't respond, getting embarrassed again that this was getting you so wet, you only open your legs more letting him slide in, the burning feeling still happening even though you were dripping.

“Fuck, youre so tight.” he groaned rocking back and forth in you, his hand gripping your wrists even tighter making your whine, pushing your self back into him.

“Fuck, you’re such a little slut, arent you doll?” he said catching your movement, shoving his face into your neck. “Oh that's right, you can't talk because you were being a bad little whore earlier.” he continued shoving his fingers more down your throat making you gag, tears running down your face, your cunt swallowing him whole, being on the brink of cumming.

You body freezes, locking up as he continues fucking you, your cunt tightening around him making him groaning out a mantra of your name and curses. The both of you cum, his grip loosening around your wrists setting them free and his fingers coming out of your mouth wrapping his hands around your torso, borderline hugging you.

You two lay there, seeing that the clock still says 6:35 am, both of you simultaneously deciding that you'll clean yourselves later, and the only thing you two want to do now is go back to sleep.

#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu drabbles #gao x reader #suna x reader #hirugami x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff

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kiss4kazu · 4 years

Note

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks

felix <3

whew, okay. sweats. um

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining.

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz.

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess.

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion.

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick.

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that.

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you.

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that.

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will.

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona.

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth.

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god

claude !

whew lord.

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further.

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg.

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him.

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles

but he is human and despite how much of a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc.

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge.

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest.

i love him bye

dima

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas

he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day.

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god

#fe3h #claude x reader #fe3h fics #fe3h requests #fe3h imagines #claude von riegan #claude imagines #claude scenarios #fe3h scenarios #fire emblem three houses #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri imagines #dimitri scenarios #felix fraldarius x reader #felix fraldarius #felix fraldarius scenarios

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ahkaahshi · 3 years

Text

appreciation [nanami kento x reader]

pairing: nanami kento x fem baker reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): swearing, brief violence, mentions of injuries and a curse

word count: 3.7k (yeah I went off a bit lol)

overview: you know how you feel about nanami and how nanami feels about your bakery, but on a rainy day, you finally learn how he feels about you

As you watch rain pour down outside, forming patterns along the windows of the shop and collecting in murky puddles disturbed by the rushed footsteps of people trying to find shelter from the storm, your eyelids threaten to close once more. The elbow propping your chin up on the counter wobbles slightly, the gentle rhythm of the store’s soft instrumental music melting together with the gentle patter of raindrops to form a lullaby that, combined with your exhaustion, sends you to sleep.

The sound of growling and a pair of familiar, red eyes appearing in the darkness, however, quickly wakes you up with a start, and your gaze darts around the shop. With an exasperated sigh and shake of the head, you stand up straight on shaky legs and task yourself with making a fresh cup of coffee to give you a bit of much-needed energy. As long as you stayed awake, you wouldn’t have to be haunted by this image an unsettling experience earlier this week had created.

While you prepare the caffeinated beverage, a glance up at the time finds the clock’s hands at a familiar hour—one that always marks the arrival of a regular customer. Once your drink starts dripping into the cup you’ve placed in the machine, you busy yourself instead with opening one of the display cases housing a vast array of different breads and baked goods.

The aroma that greets you fills you with warmth and brings a smile to your face, as does the thought of his impending arrival. Your hand knows the location on the shelves of his favorite loaf by heart, since you make it specially for him without a care in the world if anyone else wants to purchase it. Upon retrieving it from inside, you wrap it up carefully and set it down on the counter.

Contemplatively, you eye the other pastries waiting patiently behind the glass, wondering if it would be too obvious to get him something else to eat and some coffee as an invitation to stay a bit longer. Sometimes, he found half an hour in his busy day to seat himself at one of the booths along the wall and enjoy a treat you’d selected for him while he occupied himself talking to you if you weren’t busy or reading through one of his books if you were. But no matter how long he stayed, it never felt like long enough to you.

I hope the rain hasn’t driven him away today.

But you should know better than to think this way, since, through your conversations with him and his actions, you’ve learned he’s a man of routine. Regardless of what you should or shouldn’t be convincing yourself to believe, however, your attention snaps to the door when you hear the bells above it jingle. The sound of rain, cars honking, and passing conversations seep inside for a few moments as the man in question shakes water off his umbrella and places it securely into the holder by the entrance.

Against the bleak darkness of the cloudy sky outside, his sand-colored suit and blonde hair seem to glow in the warm lights hanging down from the ceiling, making him look almost ethereal—to the point where you wouldn’t have been surprised if white, feathery wings sprouted from his back. Maybe he was your guardian angel, since he’d just saved you from falling asleep on the job once again.

“Kento, welcome back!” you chirp, lips curling up into a grin you struggle to keep as professional-looking as possible.

Taking off his glasses and tucking them safely away in one of the pockets of his suit jacket, he turns to you and sends a hint of a smile your way that you know is rare given his serious demeanor. “Good evening, (f/n),” he greets you as he walks towards the counter, making your heart beat faster with every foot of distance closed between the two of you.

You ask, once he’s approached the counter and glanced at the loaf you’ve wrapped up for him, “So, can I convince you to dine in and take a little break with one of our fresh pastries, hmm?”

A hint of a chuckle sounds from him through a short breath out his nose, and he reaches into a pocket in his trousers to retrieve his wallet. “I don’t need much convincing on a day like this, but I’ll take a pastry as well, please. And a coffee, if you don’t mind.”

“You came in right as I was brewing my own, so you can just have it, instead, since I know we take ours the same way,” you mention, turning away from him to grab the steaming drink.

“Nonsense,” he utters, stopping you in your tracks, “If you made it for yourself, keep it for yourself. I can wait a few extra minutes for mine.”

Prickles of heat rise to your cheeks, but you nod and give him a small, appreciative smile. Once you’ve selected a treat of his choice for his visit, you enter the total cost into the register, which he prepares promptly and hands to you. His fingers brushing against yours sends tingles across your skin like stray sparks of electricity. “I’ll bring your coffee over once it’s ready,” you offer, speaking to distract yourself from your racing thoughts, “Go ahead and get comfortable; you’ve got the whole shop to yourself.”

He thanks you with a small dip of the head and picks up his food so he can head over to the same booth he selects each time he visits while you start making a fresh cup of coffee for him. As you take a sip of your own, you can’t help but pause a moment to admire his appearance now that his attention is focused elsewhere. He’s a striking man with sharp features and a straightforward, authoritative manner of speaking, but there’s a certain softness to his edges that you’ve seen within him over the time you’ve been acquainted.

You wonder if that tenderness to him is reserved for just for you. If you’re the only one who brings about the softness you can see behind his warm, brown gaze. If he would put his book down as quickly if someone else approached him. You like to think yourself the only witness to his subtle, gentle mannerisms, but you prevent yourself from getting too caught up in your thoughts by reminding yourself that he’s a customer. Someone who comes solely because your bakery’s the closest one that makes his favorite bread, rather than because he has any sort of attachment to you.

With a small sigh, you bring your cup of coffee to your lips for a long drink before taking the one you’d made for Nanami in your other hand and wandering over to his table. Judging by how the crowds outside are moving, everyone seems to be more concerned with getting home and out of the terrible weather than with picking up treats from your bakery. If you hadn’t had such a busy day, you’d be concerned by the lack of customers in at this hour. Now, however, as your aching feet move over to the empty seat across from the shop’s sole patron, you appreciate the quietude in the store that allows you peace in its final hour before closing.

Nanami slides a page marker towards the spine of the journal he’s writing in and closes it when you arrive with his freshly brewed drink, setting it down in front of him. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Mind if I sit?” you ask, even though your knees are already bending to guide you onto the padded seat across from him.

“As long as I won’t distract you from your work, please, go ahead,” he answers, then takes a long, appreciative sip of his coffee.

“I don’t think anyone here would be opposed to me taking a break, considering it’s just us,” is your response given with a smile. You’ve forgotten quite how long it’s been since you’ve had a moment off your feet, and you let out a long sigh as you sink into the booth. Weariness makes itself known in a yawn that suddenly escapes your mouth—a sign that all the fatigue you’ve been somehow avoiding is starting to catch up to you. “Excuse me.”

Blonde eyebrows furrowing slightly with concern, he wonders, “Long day?”

Shrugging, you gaze into the dark liquid filling the cup in your hands, watching it quiver with each minute movement of your body. “It’s been a bit of a long week, to be completely honest,” you sigh. A pair of red eyes appears in your coffee as your mind wanders momentarily. Taking a deep breath and curling your lips into a forced grin, you quickly gather yourself and add, “But, anyway, it’s alright. I’m sure you’re much more exhausted than I am given what you have to do on a daily basis.”

“The nature of our jobs may be different, but I’m sure you’ve been just as busy as I have.”

You chuckle softly at his words and add, “You fight curses and I make baked goods. I’m sure one’s a bit more taxing than the other. Or, at least, more life-threatening.”

“Both deserve appreciation,” he states in his usual, matter of fact tone that never fails to amuse you. Though he’s completely serious, you always find a bit of humor in his straightforward manner of speaking, especially when he argues the essential nature of your job. “I know that you make this specifically for me just to make my life that much easier—” he taps the wrapped loaf of bread with one of his long fingers—“so, I appreciate your work and what you do.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, making you lower your head bashfully while you take a long drink of coffee. It’s a surprise your voice doesn’t falter when you comment, “You’re too kind to me.”

“There’s no such thing in your case. I’m simply being honest.” There’s a short silence that ensues his compliment, during which you try to slow your racing heart by glancing out the window at the other shops, cars, and people all distorted by watery veins across the glass. Nanami’s gaze doesn’t leave yours, however, and he inquires, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Somewhat dozily, you echo, “Taking care of myself?” as your eyes flutter shut so you can think for a moment. Almost immediately, they fly open once more at the sight of those red orbs piercing the darkness once more. “I just… haven’t been getting enough sleep, I don’t think.”

“Is something bothering you?”

The expression of concern on his face could easily be mistaken for frustration or disgust, given the way his lips are pursed, and brows angled downwards. But you know from experience that those emotions are reserved for conversations about his work, rather than those regarding you, and his level of interest warms your heart. “I… I saw something earlier this week, and… it was a bit unsettling, is all.”

You can’t help but notice how his full attention is on you when your eyes meet again. Neither his pastry nor his steaming cup of coffee is on his mind, since neither one is in his hands. Instead, his gaze searches yours for the answer that you’re not speaking. Before he can attempt to coax it out of you with another question, you quickly realize that the conversation has veered off in a direction you deem selfish given your desire to allow your most devoted customer a peaceful refuge from the world under the roof of your shop.

“Please, I really don’t want to worry you,” you speak quickly, your hands moving energetically for extra emphasis. Unfortunately, your fingers nudge the cup in front of you just hard enough to topple it over rather dramatically, and its contents flow across the table in a dark wave that has you uttering a curse word under your breath and reaching for the napkin dispenser. Your fingertips are met with plastic, bringing you to realization you’d forgotten to refill it after the morning rush. “I’m so sorry. I’m really out of it today, it seems. Give me a second while I run to the back, okay?”

Before he can respond, you’re up and making a beeline for the kitchen and storage room, cursing yourself on the way there for being so clumsy. A rush of unusually cold air along with the sound of rain pounding the ground greets you when you set foot in the kitchen, and your gaze moves across the room to where the back door is mysteriously ajar. You shudder, but not just because of the chill.

I just got the lock on that damn door fixed…

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, and your feet feel as if they’ve been replaced by sacks of bricks when you try to lift them. It’s as if every fiber in your body is resisting any and all movement toward the door even though you know you can’t leave it open. The horrible sense of dread welling up inside of you almost makes you want to call for Nanami but telling yourself you’re just being dramatic allows you to walk to the other end of the room, but it feels like miles separate you and the far wall.

With a deep breath, you shut the door once more, returning the air within the kitchen to its original stillness, but the weight of the silence that follows feels crushing. And that’s when you hear it. The low, distorted rumbling that you’d heard nearly every night this week from outside your bedroom window. You almost don’t want to look, but when you finally muster enough courage to follow the direction of the ominous sound, you’re met with that same, red gaze that had burned through the gap between your shutters at night.

A few feet away, in a corner that seems much darker than usual, a disfigured but humanoid hand splays across the tiled flooring as the curse who’d been making house calls pulls itself out of the shadowy depths it’s created. Your breath hitches in your throat as fear takes hold, its cold grip freezing your body in place so all you can do is watch as the creature rises up from the floor and stares at you hungrily from where it stands on all fours.

Before you can even understand what’s happening, it lunges at you with a shriek. Thankfully, one of the loudest screams you can muster leaves your mouth, and your survival instincts break you free of the paralysis your emotions had trapped you in. You’re barely able to evade the curse’s grip as you run around the corner of a counter and grab the closest thing to you in the moment, which happens to be a broom. Furiously, and without thinking, you whack the creature as hard as you can while you try to run back towards the shop.

“Kento!” you shout, words accompanied by a loud hiss as you slip, falling against the cold tiles with a thud. The arm you use to brace yourself courses with pain, but that doesn’t stop you from using your free arm to continue throttling the curse with your barely effective weapon of choice.

Just as you see a shadowy hand reach out towards you to grab you, your vision is suddenly obscured by the familiar, sandy brown of Nanami’s suit. In an instant, he’s swinging his cleaver in front of him with his cursed technique that downs the beast in one fell swoop. Once the threat has been eliminated, your knight in business attire places his weapon in its holster on his back and bends down to check on you.

Any questions he asks you are lost in a hum of shock that rings in your ears for a moment, and you find yourself unable to do anything but stare at where your otherworldly assailant had been looming over you mere seconds ago. However, a sudden moment of clarity brings you back to reality, and you finally meet Nanami’s gaze, feel his hands on your arms, and hear his voice.

“It was waiting for me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The curse,” you clarify before repeating, “Bastard was waiting for me.”

As he helps you up to your feet and gets you settled back down at the booth you’d previously occupied—and that he’d cleaned, you notice—you explain to him the story of the unsettling visitor whose loitering had robbed you of your sleep the entire week. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you could see curses?” he wonders, taking off his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders when he notices you shivering. Whether you’re doing so out of shock or your body’s need to maintain its natural temperature, you’re unsure, but the warmth of the garment he sheds soon puts an end to it.

“I don’t know,” you answer slowly, eyes steadily making their way up to his face where it hovers above your arm so he can carefully place a bag of ice he’d wrapped in a towel on the steadily swelling lump adorning your forearm. “I think it’s because I wish I couldn’t see them and saying that I can would really make me think about all the horrible things I’ve seen.”

“Do you have any other injuries?” His touch is gentle in an unexpected way, given the level of his strength and the ease with which he’d disposed of your attacker, and you can’t help but watch his fingers rearrange the bag of ice to cover your injury after you shake your head in response. “Give me a moment,” he states, retrieving his phone from his pocket, “I’m calling a coworker to take us back to Jujutsu High’s campus so you can have a proper examination.”

“I’m okay! I promise!” you splutter quickly, but the pain in your side that suddenly makes itself known when you try to stand causes you to grimace and further solidifies his suspicions. “I don’t want you to work more than you have to.”

He ignores you and delivers a very to the point message to his colleague with information about your whereabouts anyway. After he hangs up, a feeling of appreciation spurs you to open the palm of your opposite hand as you extend it towards him and rest it on the table. He returns your gesture by placing his unoccupied hand in yours so your fingers can wrap around it tenderly. But even once you’ve given it a gentle squeeze, he doesn’t make any attempts to retreat from your grip.

Quietly, you ask, as your heart flutters in your chest, “Why are you doing this for me?”

With a gentle sigh, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of amusement meet yours. “Do you remember the first day we met?” You nod and a small smile forms across your lips at the pleasant memory coming back to you, pushing away all the worries and doubts that had been previously swirling around your head.

“I came in here, asking if you sold my favorite type of bread. You told me you didn’t—much to my dismay. However, you looked at me for a long moment and I don’t know what it was you saw in me, but whatever it was spurred you to say, come back again tomorrow, and I’ll have some made for you.”

The short pause he takes while his gaze shifts to the bread you’d given him earlier is filled with the soft music playing throughout the shop. “I’ve thought about how you could’ve just said no and been done with me. We didn’t have any obligations to one another. We were just strangers. Yet, you chose to go out of your way for me.”

“You were exhausted.”

He watches you expectantly, so you explain, “That’s what I saw in you. That you were just so, so tired, Kento; and I wanted to do anything I could to give you some peace of mind. That’s why I make it, just for you.” A giddy grin spreads across your lips at being reminded of how your coworkers had always asked if you were making the special loaf whenever you’d been working on your own in the kitchen after your first meeting with Nanami.

“Plus,” you continue, “you’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You’re constantly putting your own life on the line for the rest of us, so you should be able to enjoy a simple pleasure like being able to eat your favorite bread.”

When he smiles, the pain throbbing deep beneath your skin subsides for just a second. It’s such a rarity to see that tough and somewhat aloof demeanor of his break and give way to what you’re witnessing now that you wish you could stop time and hold onto this moment forever. But what he says next makes you glad that it continues without a care in the world about what you desire.

“You asked why I’m doing this for you. From the first day I met you, you’ve made it clear that you care about me. Please, let me show you that the feeling is mutual.”

Maybe it’s a combination of the week you’ve had or the fact that you’d just narrowly avoided death thanks to the man sitting in front of you, but his words nearly bring tears to your eyes; and your heart swells with affection at every effort he makes to do right by his promise. He helps you gather your belongings, even going so far as to sling your bag over his shoulder, places an arm around you to support you and keep you under the cover of his umbrella while the two of you walk out to his colleague’s car, and allows you access to his hand to hold during the car ride to campus.

“Kento.” His attention shifts over to you from where it had been directed towards the window, watching the city pass by outside. Placing your other palm atop the back of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, you say, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate you.”

“As I do you.”

fun fact that didn’t make it in the fic: nanami didn’t say it, but he thinks you’re ruthless for going after a curse with a broom. and maybe a bit insane. but he’s certainly not put off by it.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #x reader #reader insert #tw violence #tw injury #fran writes jjk!!

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matsbarzal · 3 years

Text

Time’s a Ticking || Matthew Tkachuk

Notes: anyways I decided to do matty and I found this long list of soulmate AU prompts so I know what I’m doing tonight yikes. so here’s a lil bit of a nervous/anxious matty even tho he refuses to admit it. hope you enjoy!!! let me know how you like it <3

Summary: everyone is born with a dwindling time on their wrist. the moment the time reaches zero is when a person meets their other half, the person who makes them whole; their soulmate.

Word Count: 3k+

10,584. 7 days, 8 hours and 24 minutes. 7 days until he’d meet his other half, the person that’s meant to complete his soul, be his better half, or whatever a soulmate is meant to be. Matthew wasn’t crazy about the idea of soulmates, sure, he was surrounded by people who were madly in love and happy and complete; but he was also surrounded by those people... the one’s whose time stopped, girls and guys who had a permanent marking of time on their wrist that would never move again.

He wouldn’t say he was a pessimistic person, but he had seen so many friends and family fall into a spiral after their soulmate clock stopped ticking, watched as their other half broke them without even meeting them. He wanted to be excited and optimistic but Matthew couldn’t bring himself to feel the same delight that his friends did on his behalf. Anything could happen in this 7 days, 8 hours... and 22 minutes now.

6160 minutes

You could feel the bump of the plane as it touched the ground. This was the one part of flying you hated the most, the anxiety and the bumping as the plane made its way down the runway towards its destination. You knew anything bad was unlikely to happen, but your nerves were on edge. All you could think about was the time on your wrist, the time that kept on ticking. It hadn’t stopped in your entire 21 years of life, and from the looks of it, you were approximately four days away from that happening.

Sighing, you listened to the claps from around you as everyone congratulated the pilots for landing the plane safely. Around you, people stood up and began collecting their belongings, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartments as the chatter continued in the cabin.

You politely smiled at the man beside you as he passed you down your bag, a quick “Thank you” leaving your lips as he gestured for you to walk in front of him towards the exit.

Originally, you hadn’t had any intention of leaving Alberta for the holiday break, but your parents had practically begged you to come home for the holiday’s, citing the fact you had remained in Lake Louise for the last year and that they had only seen you once since you made the choice to unravel everything you knew by packing a few bags and moving halfway across the country to Alberta to work at some fancy ski resort in the mountains.

It was originally only meant to be a few months worth of work, waitressing in Lake Louise at a 5-star resort that is, and then time kept going by, and the more and more you fell in love with not only the scenery, but the people. Everyone was happy there, tourists were always excited and polite, everyone just wanted the chance to see the Lake, skate on the Lake, whatever it was. No one was ever unhappy here, and you loved that.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as the line in front of you continued to move quickly, people eager to get out of the cabin and get back into the fresh air that flowed outside. You could barely contain your giddiness as you stepped off the plane. You could barely believe how much you missed the province, missed your friends, coworkers, you even missed the tourists. Who would’ve thought?

After about 20 minutes of watching the carousal spin and spin and spin, you finally eyed your bright red, Flames red, as a lot of people reminded you, suitcase. Grabbing it, you hauled the bag off of the carousal and onto the ground. You were eager to get to your car, which you had already paid a good 500 dollars worth of parking for, and eager to get the move on the three hour drive across Highway 1 to Lake Louise.

After four and a half hours of travelling, you knew this three hour drive was going to exhaust you. And with the temperature out in Alberta right now? All you wanted was your bed and a cup of piping warm hot chocolate to end the day.

4590 minutes

“Man, your face is already awful to look at. You really trying to ruin it even more right before you meet your soulmate?”

Before Noah could even think, a wad of tape hit the side of his head while exclamations went up around the room about the choice of target. “Whoops, guess my tape slipped... out of my hand.”

Matthew shrugged his shoulders, an innocent grin on his face as he stood up to grab the tape from beside Noah Hanifin’s locker.

“No, but seriously, why are you getting into fights with three days left on your wrist? Don’t go and get yourself killed or something, they’d be devastated if they’ve waited this long for your dumb-ass just to have 4000 minutes tattooed on her wrist for the rest of her life.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Matthew ignored his teammates comments, choosing instead to run his finger across the always-changing number on his wrist.

“It’s not like it matters anyways.” His words were barely above a mumble, but it was enough to spark the attention of his captain, who was quick to tell him to meet him in the trainer’s office after he was done showering and getting the blood that was currently dripping down his face, cleaned.

Obliging on his captain’s orders, he found Gio in the office, a tight smile the only warning that he was about to get ripped apart by the veteran. Gio was one of the lucky ones, he had barely been 16 when his clock finally hit the big 0. It made him an advocate for all the soulmate bullshit, constantly encouraging his teammates to wait it out, be patient, their time would come.

“Chucky, buddy, we gotta have a chat.”

Quirking his eyebrows at the older man, Matthew nodded, “Well Gio, I kinda figured that one out buddy, unless you pulled me in here to look at my oh so pretty face.”

“I’m serious. You need to stop with this constant bashing of soulmates and times and shit. I know you don’t like it and you hate the concept of soulmates and whatever, but you’re doing nothing but worrying the younger guys. These kids are constantly terrified their minutes are just going to stop and be etched into their skin.”

Subconsciously running his fingers across the number on his wrist again, 4530 minutes. Wonder what that is in exact time. Shrugging his shoulders, he was quick to apologize to his captain. “Sorry, G. Not trying to scare the kids, just getting a little... I don’t know? Worried? It’s getting too close, I don’t want to get like... it’s not important, never mind. I’ll stop talking about times in the locker room. Sorry.”

Quickly tightening the tie that was now wrapped around his neck, Matthew raced out of the office before Gio could say something else to him. He eagerly grabbed his phone, wallet, keys and suit jacket before quickly making his way towards the parking garage, the only thing on his mind was of course, you.

2120 minutes

One whole day and just a few hours. You could barely breath as you ran your thumb over the little black number on your wrist. You knew it was inevitable that you’d be meeting your soulmate while working, the moment you looked at the work schedule when you arrived back from home, you knew you’d be stuck working during the time in which you were meant to meet you soulmate. You were giddy, sure. But what if they didn’t like you? What if whoever it was, was snooty, and rude, and didn’t like you for who you were?

“Y/N, you gotta stop thinking about it, babe. You’re gonna get your head stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts. Think about other things! Like... the Calgary Flames.”

Eyeing the blonde beside you, “Tell me Cassidy, why in the world, would I think about the Calgary Flames, instead of thinking about my soulmate?”

Your coworker shrugged her shoulders and gestured to the board behind your head. You had all been notified a day prior that the Calgary Flames had reserved a whole floor of the Chateau for the weekend. With your restaurant being directly in view of the Lake and the Mountains, you were expected to be the main dining spot for the team over their course of the weekend.

“Believe me, Cass, the last thing I want to think about is a bunch of hockey boys who are going to make me miserable the weekend where I’m supposed to be... not miserable.”

She winked at you, a teasing glint in her eyes, “Maybe one of those awful hockey boys has the same number on your wrist. Maybe Noah Hanifin’s your soulmate. God, I’d be so jealous, could you imagine being destined for that beautiful exhibit of a man? God, I’d climb him like a tree.”

Laughing, you wacked her with the towel in your hand as she continued to egg you on, gloating about how beautiful of a specimen Noah Hanifin was, and how she’d do just anything to crawl into bed with that man. Cassidy was always like this, bubbly, happy, positive. Her number had stopped moving 12 years ago, or so she says. She hadn’t been paying attention the day it stopped, the number etching itself into her skin permanently, to never move again. She was never negative about it, always saying that she hoped just the thought of her brought peace to her soulmate in their last moments.

“Okay okay, enough about the Flames. I doubt it’s even going to end up being any of them, hockey boys and I do not get along. Especially the one’s that are just constantly bothering people, and that’s the entire Flames roster, so... let’s get back to work.”

440 minutes

One thing Matthew was sure of was the fact that he loved everything about the drive to Lake Louise. He wasn’t notorious for being a huge fan of the scenery around him, but something about the drive across Highway 1, the trees, the snow covered mountains, they all just faded together and created this picture in his head. It was hard to describe, there wasn’t anything specific to the picture, it was just joyful, it was happy, it was calm. Jesus, maybe he was just fucking crazy.

A lot of people always said you feel more calm in the hours leading up to the first time you meet your soulmate. But he sure as hell didn’t feel calm. He was on edge, the scenery around him, albeit, it was beautiful, it was not calming him down. His leg was shaking, his foot tapping the ground beneath him on the bus. He could see Johnny giving him a look every time his shaking leg touched his teammates. He knew the entire team was frustrated with him. Two games straight, two 10 minute fighting majors.

He was being a pest, constantly egging people on, trying to ignite arguments or fights or just some form of stimuli to get his mind off of the only thing it could stray to. You. He didn’t want to think about whoever the hell you were, he didn’t want to get his hopes up that maybe his clock would actually hit 0, maybe he’d actually meet his better half. Or maybe he'd fall through a crack in Lake Louise and never have to worry about it again... hopefully.

“If you touch my leg... one more fucking time, I am going to sock you in the fucking face Chucky.”

Immediately pressing his heel into the ground, Matthew mumbled out a quick ‘sorry’ to the teammate beside him as he watched the trees continue to go by outside the bus window. The time was still changing on his wrist, every minute counting down as the minutes passed outside. There was barely any cell service on the drive up, so the only thing that could truly distract him at this rate, was you, and he hated that.

“Soooo... you excited Chucky? It’s gotta be the big day, no?”

If choking a teammate was legal, Matthew would already be wringing Noah Hanifin’s neck.

“Yeah, delighted.”

“C’mon grumpy pants, you’re literally like what? 6 hours away from meeting the person who’s supposed to complete your soul... and you’re in a foul mood. Did Doughty crawl up your ass and die last night or?”

Grinding his teeth, Matthew tried to bite his tongue, refusing to lash out at his teammate, even though he so desperately wanted to. He wasn’t going to be the cause for a toxic locker room, especially over something as stupid as soulmates.

It was obvious that something was going on, everyone on the team knew the time on his wrist equalled out to less than a day. Everyone could see how on edge he was slowly getting as the time dwindled down, but no one could figure out why he was getting more and more frustrated, why the excitement wasn’t shining through as the time continued.

“Why the hell aren’t you excited man? This person’s supposed to be the love of your life, and you seem like you couldn’t give two fucks if you meet them or not?”

It was too late, Matthew was exploding before he could even comprehend what he was saying. “It doesn’t fucking matter man, okay? I don’t give a shit about this soulmate bullshit. Everyone’s soulmate is gone one day anyways, what the hell does it matter if you meet them now? I’m gonna be aching at some point because they’re gone and I’m alone. Woohoo, I get to meet them today, woo-fucking-hoo. I could literally not care less, so stop bugging me.”

27 minutes.

It was all around, highly likely, that your soulmate had some form of connection with the Calgary Flames. Their reservation was scheduled for 23 minutes from now... and your wrist had that small number 27 etched on it as it continued to count down.

“Wow... maybe your soulmate really is Noah Hanifin... I’m sorry for saying I’d climb him like a tree.”

A loud laugh left your throat as you watched a guilty smile form on your co-workers face. “Cass, I highly doubt it’s Noah Hanifin. It’s probably just a coincidence that their reservation time coincides with my meeting my soulmate time.” Cassidy gave you a knowing look as she walked away, a small smile on her face.

You were anxious, you couldn’t deny it. Every second that counted down, you were nervous, what if you weren’t good enough for them? What if they were embarrassed it was you? What if... oh god... what if they hated soulmates? What if they were one of those people who was willing to cut the tie, ignore the call, ignore the connection?

You refused to think about that, instead putting yourself to work, clearing the tables and plates of the previous occupants, you waved off the clearing crew, instead choosing to do it yourself. Anything to get your mind off of it.

The Flames weren't the only occupants of the Chateau tonight, only taking up about half, you were able to still seat other tourists who were interested in the view tonight.

That’s how you found yourself, 25 minutes later, your hand on your hip as you interacted with the group of rowdy guys in front of you. They were from Edmonton, and they were absolutely hammered. They were as nice as you could expect them to be, continuously flirting your ears off, as they tried to impress you with their... what was it? Accounting job? You couldn’t remember for the life of you, your mind solely stuck on the small number 1 now etched on your wrist.

You were roused out of your thoughts at the feeling of a hand touching your waist. “C’mon sweetheart, you’re not even paying attention to us here. Take a shot with us, baby!”

You politely removed the offending wrist, a tight smile now etched on your face. “First, I would ask that you please don’t touch me. Second, I was most definitely listening. You boys want another round of beers, and 6 tequila shots. Unfortunately, I don’t believe the shots are the best idea, nor do I think the beer is, but I’ll definitely get you a glass of water.”

Spinning on your heel, you went to walk away but were stopped by the feeling of a hand tightly gripping your wrist, a small squeak falling from your lips.

“We don’t want water.”

“Please get your hand off of me.”

“Get us what I asked for then, bitch.”

You were about to retort, a vicious snarl on your lips, but your words were caught in your throat as you watched a fist connect to the cheek of the man in front of you, a gasp leaving your throat.

2 minutes

This had to be a joke. He was apparently two minutes away from meeting his soulmate, and here he was, in an orderly fashioned line as him and his teammates made their way into the restaurant. He could barely breath, his pants felt too tight on his hips, he could feel the sweat seeping through his shirt. Thank god he made the choice to wear black.

It felt like everyone’s eyes were on his, everyone was wearily watching the number on his wrist go down, as the obvious anxieties began to cloud his every thought, action, move... everything.

He tried to take his mind off of it, observing the restaurant as the team slowly made their way to their designated tables. There were a few other patrons, most of them caught up in their own world. One specific table caught his eye, they were a group of rowdy guys, maybe a few years older than him.

Quite frankly, they looked like all around assholes. Looked like the guys you’d see from Wolf of Wall Street, and from the looks of it, they were really starting to irritate their waitress. Although, all he could see was your back, your posture was unbelievably straight, your hand on your hip as you inventively listened to the guys in front of you.

Matthew continued to watch you, something inside of him telling him that he just couldn’t look away. He had to keep looking. He watched as you turned your body, ready to walk to wherever your destination in mind was, but he instantly zeroed in on the hand that was now tightly wrapped around your wrist, a violent look on the man’s face.

He wasn’t moving on his own accord now, his feet were basically moving by themselves as they raced towards you.

“Get us what I asked for then, bitch.”

His fist was connecting with the other man’s face before he could even think. He heard the gasp from beside him, he watched the number on his wrist hit 0 the exact moment he looked at you, a look of shock on everyone’s faces.

“Chucky!”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m going to call the police you fucking curly-headed fuck.”

He could barely focus on the voices around him. You were here. You were literally right in front of him. Both of your numbers were at 0, he could see it on your wrist. He was literally staring in the eyes of his soulmate.

“Oh my god, you punched one of our guests.” Your voice was like bells to his ear, soft, delicate, everything he wasn’t... but god, you were perfect.

“I’m Matthew, and yes... I uh... I think I did punch one of your guests. I also think you’re my soulmate. Does it count as self-defence... if I punched him in my soulmate’s defence?”

You laughed, trying to cover it up with your mouth as you watched your manager’s rush towards the now bleeding asshole at the table behind you.

“I think I like you already, Matthew.”

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #Matthew Tkachuk fic #NHL fic #NHL imagine #Matthew Tkachuk imagines #my fic #my writing #honest to god I wrote this in like an hour and a half #I dont even know if its good #it just feels so perfect to me #pls tell me if you like it

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creepytoes88 · 3 years

Text

Vinnie smut

Do not read if uncomfortable with 👇🏻

Daddy kink/hitting(ass,face,thighs)/unprotected sex /and mean names 🥰 PLEASE TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS 👏AND SEND ME THINGS YOU WOULD LIKE TO READ ONLY ABOUT VINNIE FOR RIGHT NOW THO 🥸 anyways let’s get too it lol sorry for any typos

I could feel Vinnie’s hot breath on the back of my neck as my back was pushed against his hard chest. Vinnie’s right hand wrapped tightly around the inside of my thigh sandwiched between both of my legs. I can feel his hip bones pushing into my backside, making it so hard to breath normally. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, my mind starts to wonder to those forbidden places.

I let out a sigh the ungodly things I would let him do to me taking over my mind “GOD I need help.” I took a deep breath before I looked at the clock on Vinnie’s night stand “I can’t wake him up he has photo shoot in a couple hours” I think to myself. I close my eyes trying to fall asleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his warm hands and cold rings felt against my skin and how his soft plump lips would feel trailing down my stomach. I shot my eyes open before letting out a sigh and cuddling deeper into Vinnie I turned around so my head was buried in his chest.

“I could just breathe his sweet scent all day..” I think to myself before I even realize what I was doing I rested my icy cold hand on his warm jaw rubbing his cheek. Vinnie let out gasp, eyes shooting open “Are you ok, princess?” he whisper shouts not being able to see me in the pitch black room “y-yea I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up baby“ I said as I thread my fingers through his hair “No you’re not, what’s wrong sweetie please tell me.” Vinnie asks worried as he wraps his warm arms around my waist I could feel his cock against my thigh and his sweet voice caught me off guard I couldn’t help it and let out a soft moan softly tugging on his hair.

Almost immediately I felt him start to get stiff against my legs I let out a slightly louder moan at the idea of Vinnie actually fucking me right now he instantly shoved 2 of his long fingers in my mouth making me choke a little in shock. My eyes widen as I look up at him “I should have known that you were just hungry for my dick” he says as he kisses down my neck “I’m right aren’t I slut” he grunts in my face. He flips me so my back is against his chest again and pushes his massive clothed cock against my thong “covered” ass. I let out a whine letting him know I’m ready now no foreplay needed, I suck his fingers that are in my mouth he would occasionally push his fingers deeper hitting the back of my throat making me choke every now and then.

“Answer me slut“ he grunts as he takes the fingers out of my mouth to lightly smack my left cheek. I moan at the stinging sensation “Y-YES DADDY!!” "I’m s-s-sorry” I let out in gasps and stutters. Vinnie just chuckles sending shivers straight down my spine I could feel the goose bumps rising on my skin and the blush creeping on my cheeks. I’m so thankful he can’t see me in his dark ass room “tell daddy want you want Princess” he says as he caresses my bottom lip with his thumb, nibbling on my earlobe “your b-big cock daddy.” I whine out “ ah-ah-ah what are the magic words princess” Vinnie says as he sits up so he can have better access to my body.

I could practically visualize the smirk on his face just by the sound of his voice, no lights needed. I blushed again, is it worth it? I think to myself is it worth the short lived embarrassment that is just going to inflate his ego more “I’m waiting princess I still wanna get some sleep before the shoot tomorrow” Vinnie says as he starts fiddling with the hem of the tank top I’m wearing and his other hand rubs the inside of my thigh as he sits on his knees, I could feel his eyes scanning my body. Fuck I can’t do this I’m going to explode and he barely even touched me yet GOD of course its fucking worth it what am I thinking. “Pretty Please daddy will you fuck me with your big cock!!” I let out in a shout as Vinnie smacks the inside of my thigh a couple times making me let out a Loud groan, I could feel my wetness tripping down on the bed sheets even with my panties on “mmm whatever you want princess.”

Vinnie says in a sexy, raspy voice and he pulls my top over my head and rips my panties right off my body “ VINNIE THOSE WERE MY FAVORITE PAIR!!?!” I shouted still very turned on but slightly pissed “I’ll buy you a hundred pairs of underwear if you shut the fuck up and let me make you feel good.” Vinnie states with confidence “try not to wake the entire neighborhood ok” he says as he pushes his head into my neck Vinnie’s hands hold my hands and hips to the bed making it very difficult for me to move and grind against his bulge. Vinnie trails his lips slowly down nipping and sucking on random spots slowly driving me crazy I began to let out soft moans, I feel Vinnie’s lips trailing between my breast with out warning he grabs ahold of my right nipple with his teeth bitting it softly. Enough to feel good but hard enough to make me let out a loud unexpected moan Vinnie licks and sucks on my bud for awhile before repeating on my left nipple.

I was so focused on the feeling of his mouth on my nipples I didn’t even realize he moved my hands so they were above my head before I could react Vinnie pushes his middle and ring finger knuckle deep into my heat spreading his fingers as much as he could. As he thrusts them into me repeatedly at a fast pace, His thumb rubbing my clit in tiny circles as I let out moans and whimpers “are you daddy’s little slut?!” He says against my upper stomach I could feel the vibrations in my tummy “YES DADDY IM YOUR SLUT” “such a good girl for me princess, I think you deserve a treat.” Vinnie let’s go of my hands and moves so he’s head is between my legs he grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders he immediately wraps his hands around my thighs so I can’t move.

“AH please baby I need it so bad” I say in a whiny voice Vinnie dives his head down sucking on my clit with no mercy his tongue plunging in and out of my dripping pussy I couldn’t help but scream his name it felt so good. “VINNIE! YESSS DADDY MORE PLEASE!!” I was no stranger to having sex with Vinnie but I swear everytime we have sex it’s like the first time but it only gets better and better I could feel the knot beginning to form. I run my fingers in Vinnie’s hair pulling at the roots and pushing him deeper into me I open my eyes to get a good look at him to see his beautiful hazel eyes staring right back at me. Full of lust and adornment I throw my head back in a pure fit of pleasure begging for Vinnie to just fuck me already. Before I can do or say anything I release on Vinnie’s Gorgeous face I let out I few more moans and I feel Vinnie pull away he smashes his lips into mine and I can taste my self on his lips I groan in response grabbing his strong shoulders digging my nails in to the flawless skin of his back Vinnie looks down at me “oh I’m not done yet sweetie” Vinnie slaps the inside of my thighs and the sides of my ass a couple time as I cry out in pleasure at the sweet stinging sensation that comes with it.

Vinnie pulls down his boxers revealing his massive cock Vinnie is a beautiful man there is no denying that and his cock is no different my mouth starts watering at the thought of sucking his on perfect balls( ball sucking simulator🤌😎 either you get it or you don’t lol) and him ramming his thick cock down my throat till he finally spills over. I go to grab his bulge and he slaps my hand away “not a chance I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re not gonna be able to fucking walk straight for a month!” I moan at the thought of what he just said Vinnie pulls his boxers down and he wraps one of his large hands around my neck and the other on my boob. Vinnie rubs his tip against my clit making me whine and moan “beg for it bitch” vinnie says in a airy tone “pllllease daddy fuck me I need it now” I gasp “What was that princess I don’t think I heard you correctly ?”

“ p-p-PLEASE DADDY I NEED IT!!” I heard Vinnie chuckle before rubbing his cock between my folds “need what princess?” Vinnie ask again playing dumb “YOUR BIG COCK DADDY PLEASE I CANT-!” Vinnie pushes into me before I can finish my sentence, he pushes faster then normal making me let out a whine, he’s so big! I always have to adjust to his size I moan as he hits balls deep making me arch my back pushing my chest to his. Vinnie let’s out a soft moan as my walls tighten around his cock “ M-move Daddy!” I moan loudly my hands rushing to his unruly curly hair I tug on the roots and wrap my legs around his waist and Vinnie let’s out quite literally the hottest sound he’s ever made. “F-FUCK baby you’re soo tight!” Vinnie pants and moans as he shifts around to get him self more comfortable before almost pulling all the way out before slamming right back in to me “OH GOD VINNIE, MORE PLEASE , YOU FILL ME UP SO GOOD DADDY!!”

I shout I wanted to hear him make more of those delicious sounds the thought of Vinnie’s moans and pants making me tighten around his cock once again making him release a loud moan. I throw my head back in pure ecstasy feeling him pound in over and over again hitting spots I didn’t even know existed until I met Vinnie. I let out strings of nonsense the pleasure taking over my mind and body my eyes closed and all I could think about was how good Vinnie felt grazing my g spot every-time he pushed in and the sound of skin slapping skins, his pants and moans driving me absolutely crazy even the feeling of his balls bouncing off my ass cheeks every time he thrusted in ( I’m fucking dead lol 😭) making my mind melt. I could feel the knot in my stomach beginning to come together again and as if Vinnie knew he flips me over so my face is in the pillows and my ass is in the air. Vinnie slaps my left ass cheek I let out a whimper before pushing back on him and letting out a moan Vinnie groans and rubs my ass cheeks “count them whore” he slaps my right cheek this time “two!” Another one on my left “Three!” Vinnie then smacks both of them at the same time a couple times in a row.

I let out loud moans I know I’ll have hand prints tomorrow but it’s so worth it “you like that huh baby” he laughs and kisses my shoulder blades rubbing my ass I moan and I start to feel the knot break before I could even say anything Vinnie cut in “Don’t you fucking dare cum yet Bitch!” “PLEASE VINNIE I CAN’T HO-O-LD IT MUCH L-LONGER!” “I said fucking hold it slut!” He grunts as he grabs ahold of my hair pulls back on it so my head is facing up and smacks my face once or twice “ OH FUCK YES DADDY HIT ME AGAIN PLEASE!” “You like it when daddy hits you princess?” He asks as more of a statement then a question knowing damn well I love it “PLEASE AGAIN DADDY” Vinnie smacks me on my thigh this time significantly harder then he did on my face. I moan as my back arch’s into him as I start thrusting back towards Vinnie he starts rubbing my clit in circles again “you want me to put my babies in you beautiful” OH YES DADDY PLEASE CUM IN ME!” I let out more moans and gasps as he thrusts so hard and deep into me I can’t hold it anymore.

I let out the loudest moan I have ever made “DADDY YESSSS” it felt like a balloon popped in my stomach I was shaking from the pleasure still coursing through my veins. My nerves shot as I was basically falling asleep at this point I feel Vinnie’s hips snapping against my ass a couple more times before I feel him release inside of me I hear Vinnie let out a deep moan and a grunt “IM SORRY DADDY I COULDN’T HOLD IT ANYMORE!!” Vinnie flips me over while still inside of me. My eyes still clamped shut from pleasure and sleepyness, also partly because I don’t want to see the disappointment on his face. Oh how wrong I was “Look at me princess” Vinnie says softly pushing my hair out of my face. I open my eyes at the sound of his voice to see his beautiful face with a proud smirk displayed perfectly on his face.

Vinnies eyes then leave mine to look down where the two of us meet. I slowly trail my eyes down the same path as my lover to see just how big of a mess I made “Princess you never told me you are a squirter?!” “That’s because I never knew I could. None of my past boyfriends made me do THAT before!” I said with a giggle “well how did it feel” Vinnie asks as he pulls out watching as both mine and his cum runs out licking his lips before leaning down to clean up the mess he made “ S-So good daddy...so good” I said as I push my hips against his face and throw my head back so much for getting some more sleep I guess.

#vinnie hacker smut #vinnie #sway #vinnie hacker images #vinnie hacker x reader #swayboys #jordan huxhold #kio cyr #smut #dirty imagines #skaterboy #rough play

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Text

wherever i’m going -- i’m taking you with me.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: you run through roman’s dreams nightly, but this time it’s different. this time it’s an omen where you dawn a white dress with blood pouring for your mouth, your body ripped to shred. and this time peter sees it too.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: kinda short for me, i hope that’s ok! got a couple of other stories in the works tho. but, i really hope you enjoy!

“I gotta run,” You said as you stood from the couch in the Godfrey’s sitting room.

Roman let out a childish groan as he deflated into the stiff cushions, lanky limbs melting across the furniture like a Dali clock.

“No, you don’t. At least stay for one more episode?”

“I promised I’d have dinner with my mom before she has to go in to work graveyard tonight.” You reply, gathering your discarded sweater and shoes and redressing in them.

“Come on,” Roman practically whines, reaching out with his foot to hook you around the back of your knee, “One more episode.”

You turn to give him a reprimanding look, a look that was utterly ineffective as a smile threatened to form on your lips.

“Shelley, can you please call him off?” You look over your shoulder toward the younger Godfrey, holed up in an armchair with a grin.

“He’s not used to hearing no.” She typed out and you snort.

“Some help you are!” Shelley just giggled.

“Yeah,” Roman pushed himself up with a grunt, quickly snaking his arms around your waist, “I’m not used to hearing no. Let’s not start today, yeah?”

You looked down at him, his chin resting against your abdomen while he gazed up at you with his most convincing puppy eyes.

You move your hands to hold his cheeks, squeezing them together causing his lips to pout, “Everyone’s right, you are a brat.”

You lean down and peck his pursed mouth, “Walk me to my car?”

Roman gives a heavy sigh in defeat, collapsing back into the couch for a moment before begrudgingly getting up, making the movement seem like a great effort.

“You owe me,” He responds in a grumble.

“Oh, of course,” You reply dramatically as you walk over and give Shelley a chaste kiss to the forehead in goodbye.

Roman waits for you by the door for you to finish your farewells with his sister, then leads you outside.

At your car, you toss your bag through the open window into the passenger seat, then lean against the door to look up at Roman.

“I think you should just move in here, you’re over enough.” He comments, placing his hands on your hips.

“I’m sure our mother’s would love that,” You counter swiftly.

“Fuck my mom,” Roman says, “And yours, well she could finally travel like she’s always wanted.”

“So what? I’m just the dead weight holding her back?”

“Oh c’mon, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, moving closer to you.

You stay quiet, letting him squirm a bit. You knew he meant nothing by his comment, nothing more than a desperate search for you to agree to his offer.

“I would, but I’d only be giving into your spoiled-rich-boy complex. I can’t do that. I have to be the one to teach you hard work and perseverance. I want you to turn out to be a well rounded young man.”

The scowl that overtook Roman’s face made you burst into giggles.

“Fuck that, and you for saying it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” You say, giggles dying down as you lean up to give him a kiss. A longer one to appease him, “I’ll call you later, OK?”

“OK,” Roman says breathlessly to your lips, “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” And you pulled away from him.

Parting from Roman was always a five minute process, or longer. Because he would kiss you deeper, and beg for one more, and whisper sweet words and begs for you to stay, trying your resolve each and every time. Tonight was no different. You finally left the Godfrey grounds seven minutes later with swollen lips and the beginning of a love bite on your neck.

You ran through a field of grass and wildflowers. Looking over your shoulder with a wide smile and echoing giggles.

“Catch me! Faster! Before I fall! Catch me, Roman!” Your voice carried far and wide.

The dress you adorned was white, gauzy, and thin. Roman could see the hazy outline of your body beneath the fabric, your soft curves shining through as the sun basked you in it’s buttery glow. The world was saturated in warm tones and smelled like fresh laundry on his skin.

“Please, Ro! Catch me! I’m going to trip!” Your melodic voice begged, as you remained just out of arm's length.

Roman ran as fast as he could, panting and heaving as he tried to keep up with your light feet. His fingers would dust the fabric of your dress, feel the fibers and loose threads on his nails, but he could never get close enough to wrap you his grasp and capture you. He tumbled through the tall grass and felt a distinct tightness in his chest of yearning and fear. He just wanted to reach you.

As he continued the chase, Roman’s legs began to feel utterly heavy and stiff. A smattering of pins and needles danced under his skin and began to numb his extremities. It felt like he was pushing through water and running through sand. When he looked down to his feet, suddenly he was. He was encased in thick slimy sand and he could barely move.

“Roman?” Your voice was far away and trembling.

Roman snapped his head back up to look at you, still in your field of wildflowers and fragile gown.

“Roman, please, it’s going to happen…” You were suddenly crying, your face streaked with tears that left unforgiving wet trails over your delicate skin.

“I won’t! I won’t!” Roman calls, trying to dig himself from the swallowing sand.

“Baby… it hurts,” You whimper and groan and Roman watches as you reach down to clutch your stomach. Your crisp white dress now swathed with red.

A long, jagged cut marred your abdomen, blood pouring out of you like rushing water.

“No!” Roman screams, chanting the word until his throat was thick and hoarse.

You hiccup, and heavy currents of dark crimson drip past your lips. Your sputtering as the blood splatters your once spotless face, freckling your draining cheeks as a new outpour of blood furthers to ruin your dress.

Roman claws at the sand sucking him under, the little particles cutting into his fingers like shards of glass as he continues his tireless efforts to escape.

He watches as you stare at the blood in question, trying to push it back into your jutting abdomen wound fruitlessly, only managing to push more out.

“Stay right there, I’m coming! I’m coming!” Roman shouts, but the sand has sucked him down despite his best efforts and is up to his chin. The sun was so bright now, it was beginning to blinding him.

“No, you’re not.” You say with blood painted lips, teeth slimy with cardinal colors and sickly browns.

Roman tries to shout again, only for the sand to begin to enter his mouth and fill his lungs, before it engulfs him completely.

Roman shot awake, slick with sweat and an intense weighing heat covering every inch of his body.

His eyes stung with unshed tears as he scrambled to reach his phone on his nightstand. It told him it was just after two in the morning before he dials your number.

With his trembling hand to his ear, he listens to the incessant ring and waits for you to answer.

But the phone just rings, and rings and rings. And Roman swallows down the bile that raises in his throat as he gets your voicemail.

He calls back immediately, listening to the endless tone with shallow breaths. Once more, he gets your voicemail.

“Fuck!” Roman shouts, his voice carrying in the silent bedroom.

He starts to kick away his blankets and press your contact once more, when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hello? Baby?” Roman gasps.

“No, it’s uh, it’s me.” The voice on the other end isn’t yours, but Peter’s.

“Peter, dear fucking -- did you have it? Did you see her?” Roman asks, his voice frenzied.

“Yeah, I… I needed to call and see if she was with you. But I guess not.”

And Roman starts to hyperventilate. He tries to gulp in as much air as he can, but his lungs are tight and constricted with tears and terror.

“Peter, she’s next. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!” Sobs wracked his body as Peter did his best to calm him.

“Hey, hey! Calm down, alright? She’s probably just fine.”

Probably, probably, probably.

But not definitely.

Roman’s mind began to churn out pictures of your pretty little face on the news next to Brooke Bluebell and Lisa Willoughby. A newscaster reciting your name mournfully and telling the world that you were the latest victim of this horrific animal prowling after young girls in a sleepy Pennsylvania town.

“She’s not answering, Peter! She’s not fucking answering her phone. She’s not -- fuck!” Roman could barely get the words out.

Your face in print, the ink smudging and transferring to the pads of Roman’s fingers from the amount of times he strokes your still features. Perfect and frozen in time. The headline saying something about another teen dead. Another beautiful girl with so much potential… torn from the world and limb from limb.

“Calm down, Roman! We need to find her, OK? I’m sure she’s just asleep and didn’t hear her phone. Let’s find her before we have a fuckin’ melt down, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, Ok, yeah.” Roman nods, running a tense hand through his hair.

“So, why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go over to her house and bring her to you?”

“No!” Roman shouts, “No! I’m going, she needs me.”

Roman stands from his bed and rushes around his room to gather any discarded clothing he could find crumpled on the ground or splayed over the back of a chair.

“Roman, let’s just think about this for a minute. You’re worried, stressed out of your mind, you’re not thinking straight. You’re gonna fuckin’ crash your car if you drive like this.” Peter tries to reason.

Roman scoffs, “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re really not,” Peter lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah, y’know what? You’re right, I’m fucking not,” Roman spits.

He’s running down the stairs in a mismatched outfit in a search for his car keys, “I’ll be fine when I see she’s OK.”

Roman hangs up his phone before Peter can argue anymore.

When Roman gets to your house, he doesn't waste time knocking. He just picks up the trick rock in the front flowerpot to retrieve the spar key from inside it, and storms into your house. He barely remembers to shut the door behind him.

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Roman calls, searching around for any signs of disturbance or foul play.

He bounds up your staircase, frantically calling for you all the while. When he reaches your bedroom, he plows his way through the door without ceremony. His grip warping the thin gold plated knob, fingers molding into the cheap tin with worried fury.

You shot up from your mattress when Roman burst in with a shriek, clutching your chest as Roman stood dumbfounded in your doorway.

“Jesus Christ, Roman! What the hell? You just about gave me a heart attack! Fuck,” You let out a loud breath and fell against your pillows, sucking in calming breaths, “What is wrong with you?”

Overwhelming relief rushed through Roman’s viens as he watched you, annoyed and disgruntled in a sea of sheets and blankets from his entrance.

“Oh my God,” Tears sprang back to his eyes as Roman quickly closed the short distance between himself and your bed and vined his arms around you.

He blanketed you in his body, crushing you to the mattress as he sobbed into your neck.

“Whoa, hey, Ro? Baby? What happened? What’s going on?” You asked, anger turning quickly to worry as you moved to wrap your arms around his shaking shoulders.

His forearms press into the base of your neck and the hollow of your back uncomfortably, arching you into him in an awkward position. But the pain only served as a reminder to Roman that you were real. You’re here and you’re breathing and your bones clash with his and your breath fogs his brain. He couldn’t speak, all he could do was inhale your clean scent and the pattern of your heartbeat.

“Roman, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on?” You tried again.

“Just stay right here. Be safe,” He hushed, nuzzling closer to you, pressing his cold nose to your clavicle.

A distinct prick of worry and fear made itself known in your gut, but you tried your best to subdue it.

For now.

“Alright, but please just tell me you’re OK?” You whisper, gripping the back of his shoulders tightly.

“Yeah. And so are you.”

You woke the next morning with a stabbing pain in your side and with stiff limbs. The sun had peeked over Roman’s head and cast onto your tired lids. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, resting loosely on the nape of his neck, having stopped combing through brunet strands sometime around dawn when sleep finally took you back under.

You tried to shift your weight around to alleviate the discomfort, but a small voice stopped you.

“Don’t get up,” Came Roman’s throaty plea.

“I wasn’t, just getting comfortable. M’back hurts.”

Roman doesn’t reply, just moves his arm from where it had been digging into your muscles and moves onto his side so you can too. His other arm stays firmly coiled around your shoulders.

You sigh in relaxed pleasure as you stretch out the kink in your back and are able to snuggle back into Roman with no pain.

“Thank you,” You mutter and kiss the hollow of his throat before you begin to drift off again.

His warmth, his soft pine cologne, the weight of his arms around you, the safety he offered, it was hard to stay awake all while under the thick cloud of blankets and early morning heat. Roman began to drag his fingers gently up and down your spine, helping to lull you back into sleep. That was until you remembered that Roman hadn’t just snuck in the night before to sleep next to you. You two hadn’t fucked and smoked and passed out in each other’s arms. He had come storming into your bedroom last night with crazed glazed eyes, looking like he’d seen a ghost, or something worse. So, you blink away any residual urge for slumber.

“What happened last night?” You asked, running your nose along his thrumming pulse.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Roman moves his palm up to cup the back of your skull, “We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”

You wiggle away from his embrace far enough to see his face. He looked pensive and worried. His sweet lips chapped and gnawed raw.

“I don’t want to wait, Ro. You really freaked me out last night.” You lean further back, “Was it Olivia? Did she do something?”

“No, no,” Roman sighs, “Not this time. It wasn’t her.”

“Then what was it?”

Roman ran the tip of his tongue over his cracked lips and sniffs loudly. He makes a scene to look anywhere but your eyes. He looked scared, and Roman never looked scared. Angry? Interested? Annoyed? Curious? Yes, but never scared.

“Ro? What is it? You're freaking me.” You reach for his hand that is resting on your hip and wrap it in your own.

His jaw flexes and swivels, his bottom teeth jutting out before he finally sighs, “You were in my dream last night…”

“And?”

“Peter had the dream, too.”

It felt like the wind had been knocked from your lungs. You knew Roman could feel your hand tighten around his own, because he pushed your face back to press into his chest.

“But it’s OK. It’s going to be alright. I have you, I have you, I have you,” He chants, slipping his long calf around your legs to further his point.

“Peter saw me, too?” You asked, voice quivering with uncertainty.

“Yeah, baby. He did.”

“And it was the same dream?”

Roman took a long pause that told you more than his words ever could.

“Did you see it, too? Did it get me?”

You can feel Roman shutter against you. Like someone had poured ice water down his back.

“No, we didn’t. It wasn’t there. It was just… it wasn’t pretty, I’ll spare you the details but it wasn’t fucking pretty. It freaked us out.”

“Oh God,” You muttered, your mind moving a mile a minute, “Oh my God. I’m next.”

“No.” Roman says, an animalistic roar from deep in his chest, his arms working to pull you even closer, “No. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

“What if something happens that you can’t stop? Or you’re not there? Or I’m alone? Or, or, fuck! I don’t know!” You gasp, your heart palpating in your chest.

You had never been faced with your own mortality before. You had never had a near death experience or even anything close to one. You sometimes felt embarrassed when your peers would talk about terrifying advantentures they had embarked on that almost ended fatally but they triphumpanlty survived. Or activities they foolishly starred in and swore they saw their lives flash before their eyes. The stories were likely embellished, but you still felt square. You weren’t an adrenaline junkie, you didn’t even like carnival rides. You liked knowing you’d wake the next day, safe and sound with two feet planted firmly on the ground. This feeling of possible and even probable death by crazed werewolf made your vision blur and bile coat your tongue.

There wasn’t enough air in the world to satisfy your thirsty lungs.

“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman said sternly, his voice working to break through your wave of panic, “Nothing is going to happen, OK? Nothing. I will do whatever possible to keep you safe. I don’t care what it takes.”

“Ro --” Tears had begun to fall from your eyes without your knowledge, and his name came from your lips weak and whimpered.

“I have you, I’ve got you. I am going to be with you 24-fucking-7 until we kill this thing. I am not going to leave your side until I have a fucking Vargulf head in the trophy room.” He reassures.

“How can you be with me when you are going off to kill it?”

“Then I’m gonna lock you in Shelley’s room and make you stay put until I’m back. We aren’t taking any chances with this.”

You pull back once more to look at him with glazed eyes; his face pink from sleep and tears.

“You’ll stay at the house until we kill this thing, alright? I don’t care what Olivia or anyone else says, you’ll stay with me.”

“What if it comes here anyway? What if it hurts my mom? Oh my God, Roman, my mom!” Your blubbering again.

“Fuck it, she can come, too. We’ll make something up, have Peter forge some documents from the city that say you guys have to get out of this house, then I’ll offer up guest bedrooms. We’ll figure it out.” He replies, smoothing your hair against your head.

“Do you really think it’ll work?”

Roman sighs, “I mean if it doesn’t I could, y’know, persuade her.”

“Roman, no.”

You knew Roman would never do anything to hurt your beloved mother, but the thought of him using his eye-thing on her made your stomach twist.

“I would and I will if I have to. I’ll do what I have to to keep you safe. That’s just how it is.”

He was your protector. Your warrior. Fuck Peter, fuck his mother and Destiny. Fuck anyone who told him this wasn’t his fight, that he should bow out and let the Rumanecks handle this. Because now it definitely was. Now, he was to be the one who saved the town and you and Peter and Letha and Shelley. He was to be the one who cut off the head of this wolf or ripped it apart with his bare hands to keep his loved ones safe. He was strong, he was the warrior.

“OK.” You surrendered to his declarations of safety and tried to let his presence lull you.

You’d have to pack some things in a few hours, help come up with a lie to convince your mother, then move into the Godfrey mansion and hope it’s walls were enough to shuck this black omen from your soul.

“I got you, I promise I do.” Roman hushes, placing a delicate kiss to your forehead.

Your burrow deeper into his embrace and refuse to tell him about the dream you’d had the night before. The dream about spitting your teeth into his hands and running your tongue over your coppery gums. You needed to call Destiny or Peter’s mom to get the prognosis on if it meant anything. If it was just unsettling or apart of whatever Roman and Peter were seeing at night. For now, all you could hope was that it was the former, and Roman’s energy was enough to heal your fearful heart.

hi (-: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, i’d love to hear from you <3

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey reader insert #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård fanfiction #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagines #hemlock grove imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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re1d · 4 years

Text

different lifetime | spencer reid

→ summary: “only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.” - george elio → warnings: maeve’s death, graphic descriptions of murder, mentions of depression and drug use, basically major angst but a fluff ending → word count: 4.4k (ouchie mama she’s a slow burn) → a/n: based on no.74 from the prompt list ; “let go.” “i can’t.” // cassandra stop making spencer cry in her stories challenge : FAILED // also this is my first time using time skips n i kinda dont like it :[[ i hope u guys enjoy it tho !!

Books are ripped from his shelves, and Spencer can’t see straight. Papers fly around him as he relishes in the feeling of the pages cutting into the skin of his fingers. Blood forms and begins to drip, but he can’t bring himself to clean it up. His mom would’ve chastized him in that moment for damaging the worlds with his reckless touch. However, his whole world had just been destroyed as well. Pictures of Maeve traipse through his brain at an agonizingly slow pace; they mock him and wait for him to snap. And, he feels as though it’s finally time to do so.

Spencer screeches into the silence of his apartment, undoubtedly waking up his neighbors and possibly even alerting the police. He tears through his hair with bloodcrusted hands and debates on wrenching it out from the roots. Sitting on the floor in a puddle of sorrow and anguish, Spencer sobs. It’s the first time in his life that he’s been so consumed with grief and guilt that he can’t even muster the strength to stand. He merely clutches The Narritive of John Smith to his chest and continues to fall apart.

As tears run down his cheeks, he denies everything that happened in the last few hours. Maeve is still going to meet him after work next Wednesday.You didn’t cover him with your FBI jacket after she was shot. The blood that poured from the gunshot wound in her head was fake. It was a joke—a painful, stupid, not-at-all funny joke. Tomorrow, he would enter the office, ride the elevator up, and make casual conversation with all of his work friends. Thoughts race through his mind, and he finds himself laughing. Laughing. A voice in the back of his head tells him that he’s in shock, that he’s not well. Another voice tells him that he’ll never be well.

He doesn’t know who to believe.

A rhythmic knock on his door sounds, and Spencer pretends not to hear it. He knows it’s you. Part of him is screaming to let you in, telling him to accept the comfort you’ve come to give him. But, he decides he isn’t ready. Not yet. So, you decide to wait. For Spencer, you’d wait until time itself no longer existed.

Night approaches faster than you think. The sun is a paintbrush as it dips into the horizon and paints one of the most beautiful sunsets you’ve ever seen. It’s merely a passing thought, but you hope Spencer wills himself to see the pleasant combination of warm oranges and deep reds that are smoothed across the dusk sky. Glancing down at your watch, you read the tiny numbers with tired eyes—8:02PM—and, that’s when you realize you’ve been sitting for so long that your butt has gone numb. You register the pins and needles beginning to poke at your backside, but you make no move to stand or to leave. All you do is lean back, your head thumping gently against Spencer’s door while closing your eyes.

Spencer has no knowledge of the countless baskets of goodies from Garcia or the small notes that JJ has left behind after her short visits come to a close. He doesn’t even know that you’re still outside of his apartment. He knows nothing but the monotonous whir of his air conditioning and the smell of Thai food coming from his living room. Spencer tries to focus on anything but Maeve, but his mind is scattered, fragmented. He grows frustrated at the fact that his thoughts are moving too fast to collect. Blood. Bodies. Sweat. Tears. The feeling of your hands on his shoulders. Normally, Spencer is excellent at compartmentalizing trauma, but not this time. Not when his first true love had been so unfairly stolen from him.

Rage simmers inside of him as the clock strikes twelve. He clenches his fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to scream once more. Instead, he palms for the book nearest to him. With his original, hard cover, full-Russian version of War and Peace in his hand, he swings his arm as hard as he can at his door. Specks of dust fall from the frame at the impact, and a chip is now visible in both the book and the wood. Spencer hears a small yelp from the other side, and finally, something other than grief overtakes him. Confusion and anxiety course through him as he forces himself to stand, grabbing a kitchen knife before launching his door open.

You topple over, crushing his toes under the full weight of your upper body. Profanities are exchanged as your stare flicks nervously between his face and the butcher knife in his grasp.

“[Y/N]?! What are you still doing here?!” He means to sound angry, but the rasp in his voice does the emotion no justice. The weakness in his words is easily detected, and you find yourself studying his features from the ground. You’re profiling him, but you can’t help it. His shoulders are hunched, his five o’clock shadow has turned to six, and his eyes dart cautiously around your face. It’s as if he’s making sure you don’t see the torture his own mind is subjecting his body to.

“Well,” you begin, tone gentle, “I came to see you, but you didn’t open the door. So, I thought that I would wait you out, you know? Just to make sure that if you needed someone to talk to, that I would be there—ready to listen.”

Spencer’s expression is blank, his eyes having stopped their search a long time ago. “How would you have stayed? You have work, [Y/N]. Work that we both know doesn’t stop for time to mourn.” There’s bitter vitriol in his words; he can’t bring himself to care about how they effect you for the time being. But, you don’t mind. It’s only natural. Finally pushing yourself up from the floor, you stare through him and have to fight the need to place a hand on his shoulder, to try to connect with him. The two of you are still separated by the threshold of his door, but it feels as though the Grand Canyon itself is in between.

“Spencer, I can’t even begin to fathom what you’re going through, but—.”

“No,” his retort is clipped, “you can’t. Goodbye, [Y/N].” The door is slammed once again, leaving you stunned to to silence. Sure, you had expected Spencer to be different, but nothing like that. Torrents of rain pound against the roof of his building as dread flows steadily through you at the thought of having to step into it. Nonetheless, you collect your things and head into the office hoping to distract yourself until you’re really supposed to be in for work. The time is 12:54AM, and as you attempt to hail a taxi in the storm, a chill travels down your spine. It’s hard to tell what caused it—the thought of leaving Spencer alone or the copious amounts of coffee you will inevitably be consuming later today.

────

Eight o’clock rolls around quicker than you hope. From the corner of your eye, you spot Penelope and JJ walking in together, their normally bright faces marred with concern. Eventually, the clicking of their heels comes to a halt in front of your desk. JJ takes a seat on top of the files you’re working, moving your recently emptied mug out of the way with a tight smile. Garcia’s crosses her arms with a hmph as she stares down at you. Neither of the women are hostile—it’s moreso agressive curiosity.

“So, [Y/N] ...” JJ’s voice trails off a bit, “You saw Spence?” The nature of the question is pure. Worry is evident in her words, but as you try to answer, nothing comes from your mouth.

Garcia cups your face in her hands, squeezing your cheeks to the point of discomfort. “[Y/N]. All we wanna know is that he’s okay?” She declares, “If you perhaps could comfirm if he has gotten my muffin basket, that would also be nice—but, Boy Wonder’s safety is always first!” The chipper mask she uses to hide the pain is crumbling away, and it’s easy to see.

“Honestly, guys ... He doesn’t look good. Spencer—he, uh, his apartment is a mess, like, books everywhere, three day old Thai food in the living room. I’m worried about him—and, Garcia, he hasn’t touched anything outside his door. It’s kinda like he’s trying to fight reality.” Your explanation is obviously hard for the two women to listen to. JJ’s face is turned down, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth. Penelope’s colorful appearance seems to dim as words continue to fall from your mouth. She gapes, evidently trying to come up with something to say, but her phone chimes.

“Jeez,” Penelope drags in a sharp intake of air, “this is a bad one. Hotch wants us in the conference room ASAP.”

Sitting around the round table, you take in the information about the case. Two people, a man and a woman, bore holes in the insides of their thighs, exsanguinated. But, there is no other chatter, no normal banter, no tossing around ideas. Only silence, and you feel as though you’re falling. Once you stand, your knees wobble and your hands shoot out to grab JJ’s shoulders. Her presence itself is an ocean of calm as she works to steady you.

“[Y/N] ... maybe you should stay with Garcia on this one? I’m sure she could use the company.” Although not forceful, JJ’s words are more of a command than anything, but you make the executive decision to dismiss them with a shake of your head. As you walk up the stairs leading to the jet, your stomach churns with the intensity of a thousand tigers.

The absolute quietude on the plane is staggering, and until Garcia’s digitalized face appears on the screen, no one dares to say a word. She briefs everyone that another body has been discovered, and Hotch moves directly onto assignments. “[Y/N] and Morgan, go to the ME and see if the blood results have come back, yet. Blake and Dave, head to the newest crime scene. JJ and I will start working with the local PD.”

As you stare out at the clouds, you wish so desperately to be one of them. Oh, to be a big ball of water and ice crystals and not have a care in the world. The sun reflects off of the white, and when you turn away from the window, you can just barely see Morgan’s form sitting in the leather seat across from you. A pensive frown is present on his lips, his eyes tracing your body, looking for something to tip him off as to what you’re feeling.

Eventually, he finds that he can’t pick you apart. It seems as though each layer he tears through, another is waiting to conceal the truth. “Alright, kid,” he starts, a light air of humor in his voice, “I’ll bite. What’re you thinkin’ about so hard over here?” To be completely honest, you’re positive that he already knows the answer.

“Spence.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Morgan crosses his arms in front of his chest. It’s a tic; he does it when he’s upset. You watch him as he racks his brain for something to change the subject to, but the sigh he omits is a signal that he’s going to try to talk to you about him. Alarm bells shriek in your head, and the sound is deafening. You force yourself to resist the urge to cover your ears, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything.

“So, kid. Even though you’re pretty good at hiding it, you need to tell me what you’re really thinking, okay? I know you saw Reid, but that’s not what I wanna know about. Something else is buggin’ you—I can tell.” He’s beating you up with each word. A punch to the gut, a kick to the face, an elbow to the side—it’s relentless. He knows something is wrong, but you can’t tell him that you’ve been in love Spencer since the third month working at the BAU. It’ll ruin you—not your reputation or your future—it’ll ruin you. Your mind, your body, your heart. Even though you ache to tell just one person, your mouth won’t let you. But, your heart seems to win the fight.

“Derek, I—,” you pause, your voice giving out, “I’m in love with him. I’ve been in love with him. And now, I don’t know what to do.” Your colleague searches for words, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. He merely stares, his mouth a thin line. Discomfort settles in the space between the two of you, its thickness is probably felt by the rest of the team on the plane. You catch JJ’s glances at the both of you, but they go unacknowledged.

────

Spencer goes through the third stage of grief alone. Bargaining. The stage where he’s in grave need to talk to someone, he is only himself. His hands shake as he pours a cup of coffee, attempting to use the caffeine to stay awake. As the sun rises, a thought in the back of his mind sounds. It tells him that he’s been wearing the same clothes for the past four days. His sweat, blood, and tears have collected on the fabric, and even still, he doesn’t care.

The only thing he’s aware of is the fact that if he wouldn’t have tried to meet Maeve, she would still be alive. He curses Blake and his innate curiosity, and he curses the fact that his first words to her were, “I don’t love you. Sorry.” He curses the feeling of your jacket over his shoulders and the immense okayness that it brought to him, even while staring at Maeve’s body splayed in front of him.

Looking around at each book on the floor of his apartment, they somehow remind him of her. Some made him want to remember her happily, others made him want to vomit up his heart and cut it into a thousand pieces. If he had only said the right thing, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe they would’ve held each other tight and moved on. Maybe they would’ve gone out for three or four years, and then maybe she would’ve gotten pregnant. Maybe there would’ve been a miniature version of him with Maeve’s smile and his eyes. Maybe he would’ve been happy.

Spencer spits up bile into his kitchen sink. Happy? He’s not even sure he knows the meaning of the word anymore. Grabbing the handle of his coffee pot, he pours and pours until the scalding hot liquid burns through his mismatched socks. Wordlessly, tears brim in his eyes. Reaching down, he plucks off the soaked fabric and merely stands at the counter, staring down into the seemingly endless mug.

His phone chirps and effectively pulls him from his trance. Although there’s plenty of time to walk over and answer it, Spencer just reads Morgan’s caller ID and lets it ring. It goes to voicemail and immediately Morgan’s words fill the empty air.

“Hey, Reid, it's Derek. Listen, I got a work question for you. The unsub's exsanguinating victims and removing their eyelids antemortem. Does that mean anything to you? Hit me back.”

Ideas are weaving in and out of the genius’ head. Trudging over to his couch, he presses the call button and waits for Morgan to pick up. It takes less than two rings before the line clicks and he’s in the presence of someone else for a change. Spencer sits in silence, not speaking until spoken to. He feels like a kid, but truthfully, he doesn’t have enough energy to say more than he needs to.

“Hey kid, you’ve got me and [Y/N].”

“Hi, Spencer.”

The sound of your voice is a drive taken at the dead of night where all you can hear is nature. It’s a thousand waves of calm. Instead of giving you both an answer, Spencer revels in the small greeting. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve fallen in love with you first.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. He debates on slamming the phone back into the receiver, but decides against it. “Have the cornea or pupils been harmed in any way?” Morgan says no. “If he's taking care not to damage the eyes, then line of sight is probably what's important to him.”

“So this guy wants them to see what he’s doing.” Morgan pauses and the whole line goes quiet. Spencer yearns to hear your voice just once more before he hangs up. And, by the grace of a seemingly wrathful God, he does. But, it’s not exactly a question he’s prepared to answer.

“Hey, Spencer ...” You trail off. It appears as though you’re thinking through your next words, but you settle on a simple inquiry. “How are you?”

“I gotta go,” Spencer replies.

The line goes dead.

��───

The case ends up being solved with the help of your Boy Wonder. However, as you board the plane alongside him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t feel very wondrous. Plopping down into the seat across from him—similar to what Derek had done—you shoot him a tender grin. JJ’s shoulder rests above your head, and Morgan stands, taking up the whole aisle.

“So,” JJ begins, “I counted—what—five baskets?”

“Seven, but I think Ms. Cavanaugh next door may have taken a couple.” Her laughter mixes with yours in a melody that brightens the atmosphere in the jet. Morgan snickers in the background, but all Spencer is focused on is your smile. A pang of warmth spreads through him for the first time in a long time, even though a frown is turning his lips down. JJ and Morgan eventually migrate to their respective spots—JJ on the couch ans Morgan with his head against the wall and his earbuds plugged into his ears.

You pick up on the scowl on his features and pat the table to attract his attention. He meets your gentle gaze with hesitant eyes. “Why the long face, Doc?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but he can’t even force out a laugh. Spencer succumbs to the monster that guilt presents itself as, cupping his cheeks and pulling down on his face. He tries to rid himself of the grime, the dirt, he feels on his body, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever go away.

“I dunno,” he slurs through exhaustion, “I was just thinking about how I acted when you came over, and I-I guess ... I just wanted to apolog—.”

“Spencer.” The severity in your tone shakes him to the core. His eyes widen as his mouth comes to a close. “Don’t apologize to me. You’re grieving, it’s only natural that you’d be angry. It was forgotten after it happened, okay? I promise you—we’re good.” There’s something you want to add, and Spencer can practically feel the words itching to come out. “And, Spence? If you need anything—anything at all—please, just ask. Please.”

His mind wanders back to his messy apartment, and he ponders the thought of asking you to help him clean. His mouth moves on autopilot, speaking before he even knew what to say. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I could use some help with something.”

“Of course. Name it, Spencer.”

When the wheels hit the ground, you and Spencer sit and wait for everyone else to clear out of the jet. Morgan and JJ squeeze his shoulder on the way out, and Blake shoots him a motherly smile. The sorrow in her eyes is blatant, but it travels to the back of your mind as soon as she passes. Standing up, you gesture in front of you, allowing Spencer an exit before you head down the stairs. He offers you a ghost of a grin, and it makes your heart bound in your chest. You didn’t remember signing up to run a marathon after this case.

The short stroll to Spencer’s Volvo in spent in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It is full of shy glances and small smiles, and you can practically feel yourself falling for him all over again. Climbing into his car, you turn on the radio to a classical station. Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major plays at a low volume, causing you to close your eyes and lean back against the headrest. The old car hums to life, igniting a sense of nostalgia deep in your soul. The drive to his apartment passes by in what feels like seconds, and he takes the keys and moves to open your door.

Giggling, you step out of his antique. The gravel crunches against the bottoms of your boots as you walk next to him up to his door. “So, this is the elusive Dr. Spencer Reid’s humble abode?” There’s a lighthearted teasing in your voice, “It’s cute. I like it. What d’you need me to do?” He cocks an eyebrow, looking around at the books scattered across his floor and he wonders how someone could find beauty in this. And then, he realizes that he’s standing next to you—Penelope Garcia’s closest confidant—and another question replaces it. Was there anything you couldn’t find beauty in?

“Well .... we should probably start with the books, and then, we can move on to the Thai food.” A grimace appears on his face and you laugh at the way it scrunches, “And, after that, we can talk.” The statement is more of a question, but it still makes you unbelievably jittery.

With a nod, you bend down to pick up story after story, every so often becoming enchanted by the bindings that surrounded the little worlds. Spencer crouches and pulls out a vinyl, placing it on the record player and lowering the needle. Once more, Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major fills the air, the static of the record scratching every once in a while. “I noticed that you liked it in the car,” he murmurs, “I’m more of a Waltz in A Minor type of guy, but Nocturne in E Flat Major Op. 9 No. 2 is always a good pick.”

“I just love Chopin, to be honest,” you say, picking up the copy of War and Peace sitting at the threshold of his door, “his pieces are all good, really. They’re all great creating pieces, you know? Like, I could just sit, listen to them, and make up stories in my head for days.”

You’re making up one right now. It’s a sunny day, as opposed to the inky blackness outside his apartment window, and you and Spencer are walking down an ambiguous dirt path. Woods surround you as well as sounds of nature, birds sing and branches snap under your feet. There is no air of danger, and all you can feel is the warm pressure of Spencer’s hand in yours. A cool breeze kisses your cheeks, forcing you to stop and take it in. Spencer comes to a halt, his gaze shifting to you. Smiling, you both move towards each other like plants to the sun. Captivation, charm, magnetism. It’s inevitable, like the meteor that destroyed the first inhabitants of earth so long ago. You move closer and closer to one another; it feels as though you’re floating, you’re gravitating towards him—.

“You know, if you’re that fascinated by East of Eden, you could borrow it,” Spencer’s weak teasing breaks you from your reverie, and you realize you’ve been staring at the front cover for over five minutes.

“Ah, uh, no thanks. Reading Of Mice and Men in high school was enough John Steinbeck for me. Personally, I think he drones on and on about things for too long,” you grin while shelving the book. He hums an acknowledgement and picks up a paper container full of week old pad thai, the smell forcing his head in the other direction.

Soon enough, there are only four, thick novels left, and you two are standing side by side at the bookshelf. You gawk at the number of collections and volumes that reside on the freshly dusted wooden panels, eyes wide. Spencer has one hard cover in his hands. It’s in pristine condition, the white of the jacket glaring at you with a vindictiveness that only the dead can muster. Maeve’s memory is held in between his palms, and it becomes hard to watch him struggle with the thought of having to put it away.

“Spencer ...” Your voice is feathery as it rides on the heavy air, “Let go.”

The words are broken as they fall from his mouth. Tears drip gently onto the glossy cover, and it seems as though The Narritive of John Smith is crying along with him. “I can’t.” A sharp pain pierces your entire being. Seeing him so vulnerable, so fractured, is agonizing. He cries over the story, repeating the tale of his whirlwind romance over and over again in his head. Reaching out, you urge his hands towards the only remaining space on the shelf. The book slips in effortlessly, and Spencer collapses to his knees in front of it. His hands are limp by his sides and his head hangs low between his rounded shoulders.

You lower yourself to meet his figure on the ground. He doesn’t move, his spirit completely dulled. As you ghost your hands over his back, he leans into your touch. After depriving himself of physical contact for so long, he wallows in the feeling of your fingers rubbing soft patterns into his skin. Spencer allows himself to sink into your embrace, inhaling the sweet combination of vanilla and jasmine.

For some time, Spencer cries into your chest. He apologizes through his sobs for the darkening spot on your work shirt, but you quiet him each time with a shake of your head. The atmosphere in his apartment lightens to the point of comfort as you do nothing but hold him. It’s poetic, really—something that you’d listen to a Chopin piece to.

“In a different lifetime,” Spencer’s hoarse whisper is barely audible over the quiet buzz of his air conditioning, “I would’ve fallen in love with you first.”

You contemplate his statement, mulling it over in your mind with a giddy optimism not quite suitable for the situation. He can tell you’re thinking over his words, but he doesn’t comment on the length of time you spend with them. A significant amount of time passes before you offer him a small nod that he feels when your chin collides with the top of his head. Smoothing a hand down his curls that are already slicked with grease, you open your mouth to speak.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you murmur, hugging him closer, “I’ll be waiting. Always.”

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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soulwillower · 4 years

Text

rude boy III • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

part 3 of this series!

requested: this has been requested a lot and i dont have enough space to put them all! sorry it took so long!!

warnings: swearing, fluff, smut, bit of angst, a tiny bit of rough sex, but then soft sex, theres lots of crying in this lol but its not v angsty, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, some praise kink, and richie has a hair pulling kink, kinda vanilla tho, unprotected sex, unedited

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

5.6k words, oh man sorry

also: i was listening to peach by kevin abstract as i write the car scene :’)

♡

it was one of those days that just didn't stop. one thing after another, from your car breaking down last night to customers calling you sloppy and leaving no tip. the sun rays that shine on your back are warm and cast a long shadow out onto the field in front of you and the breeze makes you sniffle a bit. you'd dropped a whole tray of food on yourself right at the end of your shift, and syrup is drying your hair and dripping down your uniform - you feel like shit.

tears leak slowly from your eyes, feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what you're going to do for the night - you could probably call one of your neighbors, or maybe mike, but you'd left your keys inside your house and nobody was home, so you're stranded without access to your house or a car.

you laugh a bit, in disbelief at the day you've had.

"the fuck are you doing down there, y/l/n? thought you got off thirty minutes ago." a nasally, judging, and pretentious voice calls from a few feet behind you, and you try not to outwardly groan as you quickly wipe away your tears. you sigh in defeat, knowing the tears probably won't dry up in time, and you turn to look at richie.

he's standing with his hoodie in his arm, bathed in golden light and barely more than a silhouette from where he's standing against the dying sun. you really hate how ethereal he looks.

"richie, can you lay off for tonight?" you spit, turning around quickly so he doesn't see your puffy face. "just leave, i don't want to see you right now."

and it's only half true. because recently, you'd actually found solace in richie's company. yes, you still argued, but the fire that surrounds your words are now driven by something more akin to fondness rather than the original animosity. it was freaking you out, but when richie would leave a milkshake with extra whipped cream on the counter for you when he clocked out, or when he stuck his tongue out at rude customers when they turned away, and even when he flirted with you just to be a dick, something tickled inside your chest and you even found yourself flirting back with him. and enjoying it immensely. it was sick.

you thought he'd left you alone but much to your dismay, the familiar beaten red converse high tops smack next to you on the pavement as richie folds his lanky body in two, sitting down only a few inches from you on the sidewalk facing the field.

"what's on your mind?" he says after a few awkward moments and you spare a glance at him. his eyes are taking in your red and puffy face, but his features are concerned. you feel that chest tickle again.

"lots of things. what are you doing?" you say suspiciously, hugging yourself and wiping away stray tears as they fall. you wish you could get up and leave, but it's too far to walk home and it's about to get dark. richie shrugs, playing with his fingers as they sit atop his legs, his knee bouncing incessantly. it irritates you, but you don’t say anything

"where's your car, y/l/n? drive it into a lake or something?" he says instead, completely disregarding your previous question and making you roll your eyes. "shut up, richie. god. i just- my car broke down and-" and your voice breaks and you shove your face into your hands to hide your embarrassment from the boy next to you.

"woah, it's just a car. damn, what's wrong?" richie says and you shake your head as its buried between your hands. "i've j- i have a lot on my mind. can you leave?" you say, pulling your face from your hands to look at him, knowing you look like a mess. it's not like he hasn't seen you cry before, but that was much different than now and you're even more embarrassed that he's seeing you so vulnerable.

"not to be rude, but i'm not going to leave, toots. we don't have to talk, but i really don't think you should be alone." he shrugs, saying it casually as if it wasn't completely out of character for the two of you to hang out. you try not to consider it too much, instead stretching your legs out and gesturing to your skirt. "i spilled earlier." you say weakly but with a lilt of humor in your voice. richie chuckles, nudging your shoulder with his own. "you can shower and wash it when you get home, though."

you sigh, shaking your head as tears fill your vision again. you laugh wetly, "i forgot my keys at home. nobody's there, so i'm..." you sigh, "i'm locked out." the tips of your shoes drag on top of the cement as you laugh regretfully, staring up at the field in front of you and at the groundhog that runs across the ground in the afternoon air.

richie doesn't even laugh like he should have.

"let me take you for a ride." richie says after a few moments, making you turn and look at him. he's looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly as his curls blow in the breeze. the golden light hits his face in a way that sharpens the angles of his cheekbones and makes him look much more serious than usual. his eyes glow in that same light and he seems so genuine for the first time in his rotten existence that you can't help but whisper, "okay."

it's quiet for a few moments and neither of you move so much as a muscle. the breeze is calm and for some reason, you're much less on edge than you think you should be. richie rises next to you, brushing off his black pants with his palms.

"let's go, sugar." he mutters quietly, holding his hand out for you. you stare at it for two seconds before lightly grabbing it, letting him pull you up quickly. "where are we going to go?" you ask with a sniffle, your tears finally ceasing. richie drops your hand and you follow him to a beat up chevy truck where he opens the door for you, muttering about how its 'broken' and that you'd never be able to open it yourself. it makes you roll your eyes, but you say nothing in response.

"we're going to get you that shower." he finally says as he starts the car. you look at him disdainfully, but deep down you're just relieved that you're going to be able to get clean as soon as you can.

your forehead rests against your outstretched arm laying out of the open window as your hair whips around you, richie coursing down the road into town quickly. a song you don't recognize plays on his stereo and he sings to it, not at all quietly but not too loud to be entirely obnoxious and you're shocked to hear that he's got a pretty nice voice.

it seems to calm you down, so you turn to watch him through the corner of your eyes, admiring the moment because it's going to be over too soon, and you don't want to go back to how it used to be with richie now that you have these weird feelings.

the fighting constantly is exhausting; the sex is great, but couldn't you and richie still have that without wanting to murder each other? whatever happens, you can't show richie how you feel - it'll change everything and he'll never let you live it down. you think it might crush you.

but you can't help it that you definitely don't want to murder him currently. you watch him with a small grin.

he's driving with one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road and an easy look on his face as he sings the chorus of the song, somehow giving you butterflies. it feels almost too peaceful, absolutely nothing like the few times you've spent alone time with richie, and you're sure that he could never truly feel a shred of attraction beyond primally physical with someone like you. the thought makes you want to cry all over again - you bite your lip, wondering if your feelings are brought on by your shitty day, by the mood of the moment, or something else entirely.

maybe it's just him.

he turns to glance at you, as if sensing your eyes on him and the small grin he sends you as he harmonizes the last line of the song makes you blush, turning your eyes back to the scenery zipping by. you barely hear richie's soft chuckle.

when you pull up to the house, you're not very surprised to see it's massive; but when you follow him inside silently you're shocked at the warmth you feel. a woman sits with a mug and a book at the dining table. she looks like richie, but her hair is straight and in a low bun. she's beautiful.

"hi, mom." richie says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. she smiles at him, "hi, honey. how was work?" he mumbles a response and then you make eye contact with her. she smiles even warmer. "oh hi, i'm maggie." she introduces herself. you smile and wave a bit, "y/n. it's nice to meet you."

richie looks embarrassed, "she's my coworker." he explains, filling up a cup with water. maggie nods, "oh, right! i've heard a lot about you, y/n."

richie looks at the floor with red cheeks and you smile at her, nodding awkwardly as your cheeks also turn red.

"we're going upstairs, now." he says and you feel like it's more an order to you than a statement to his mom, so you wave at maggie as he drags you towards the stairs, maggie chuckling as you leave the room.

you step into richie's room and it smells overwhelmingly like him, so much so that you feel the weird tickle in your chest and you know if you spend too much time in here it won't be good for you.

your eyes flicker throughout the room - landing on pictures of him with maggie and who you assume must be his father, of him and his friends, and of random postcards and art prints. paintings of birds as well as other style sketches of mike and several other kids - including richie himself - hang proudly on display, and you’re fairly certain they’re not painted by him, but it warms your heart that he has them. you wonder who did them.

there's posters, records, and a skateboard in the corner. his floor is slightly messy, an empty energy drink on the windowsill that you see has a crushed cigarette on it. you kind of fall in love with it every second longer you stay in it and you're not sure why - it's just so... richie.

"um, just to clarify, i didn't- i didn't, like, tell my mom about..." he says suddenly, and you smirk at him as he trails off while scratching his neck. you laugh, "no shit, richie. that would be gross." you say. he grins with a shrug, quickly back to his usual self. "you didn't seem to think it was very gross when we actually did it. both times."

you shove him, face red in embarrassment. "can i use your shower, douchebag?" you ask and he laughs as he walks out of his room and leads you to his bathroom. "i fucking hate you." you mutter as you follow, glaring at his shoulders as they shake silently with laughter. after he gives you a towel and some clothes to change into, he tells you he'll be in his room and you lock the door behind him.

you shower quickly, using what you assume is richie's shampoo and smiling like a lovesick idiot when you recognize the scent of strawberry. you're still grinning like that as you walk back into richie's room, hair dripping and your body slightly drowning in his clothes. "hey sexy." he says in a teasing tone, prompting you to flip him off, smile still on your lips. he's sitting on his deckchair, spinning slowly from his feet as he watches you sit on his bed. "um. thank you a lot, richie. i'm not sure what i would have done if you hadn't let me come over." you say sheepishly, looking from side to side. "where's my stuff?"

he shrugs, "put them in the wash. they'll be done soon, we can wait until someone gets back at your house. or- you know, if you need a place to stay, i can take the couch tonight."

your heart flutters, your mind barely even taking the time to be shocked anymore at how he is away from work. you'd just assumed...

and for some reason, the realization of everything that's happened makes your eyes watery again. "-hey, y/n, it's okay." he says softly as you close your eyes and shake your head, "no, no i know, it's fine, i'm just being a child." you mutter, rubbing your eyes furiously. richie laughs, "i've seen you act like a child before, sugar. this isn't one of those times."

this makes you roll your eyes and suddenly you feel better. you laugh almost bitterly, "how do you do that?" you ask quietly, more to yourself than richie. he looks at you curiously, crossing the threshold of his room to sit beside you. "do what?" he asks. you shrug one shoulder, "dunno. you're actually good at making me feel better. i almost hate you for it."

"nah, i know you could never hate me." he jests, but again you know there's a ring of truth to it. "as much as i try." you say almost too honestly, and richie gives you an odd look.

"want to hear something kind of lame?" richie asks, already looking embarrassed. you shift a bit to look at him, ignoring the feeling of him that you get from everything around you - the bed sheets under you, the air moving through the room, the soft light of the moon, the clothes you're wearing, the look he's giving you.

"everything you say is lame." you say weakly, but you don't add on, waiting for him to tell you. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "i get excited for your shifts now." richie admits, his cheeks glowing red, "like, actually get excited to see your stupid face when you clock in."

the honesty of it makes you smile immediately, heartbeat quickening. you're shocked, truly. "it's awful, sugar. you're really throwing a wrench in my playboy status." he adds, making you roll your eyes.

"what playboy status?" you ask, biting your lip to conceal a grin at his words - does he feel the same as you?

he shrugs with a limp hand wave, "you wouldn't understand. doesn't matter, not sure if i'm going to be much of a playboy anymore." he says, voice teasing but a strand of truth laced tightly in between his words. it makes you grin down at the sweats on your body. his sweats. they're soft and cozy against your body, and the shirt smells overwhelmingly like him.

"what, you got someone in mind?" you say, half teasing but yearning to hear your name fall from his lips because you don't know if you could say it yourself. he looks at you, "depends on what she wants from me. she’s a pain in the ass, though, don’t know her very well yet."

oh. you nod, realizing that he actually was talking about someone else and feeling bitter. "well. you're an unbearable asshole, so anybody would be a fool to want you." you say, sounding a lot less joking than you intended.

his grin falters and a look that is slightly comparable to hurt flashes across his face. he scoffs, shaking his head.

"doesn't mean much coming from you, does it?" he says with an eye roll and your eyes widen. so much for thinking he liked you. "i was joking." you say, rolling your eyes. he crosses his arms, "if i'm as bad as you think, then that means you're a real sleaze. i mean, you practically beg for my cock every time we're alone, so what does that say about you?" he spits, clenching his jaw and looking away.

your eyes widen, heart breaking at his words. you really dug yourself a hole this time. "why do you have to be so fucking insolent all the time? i swear to god, i do not understand you." you say, standing up and wishing for your tears to not reappear.

this day could not get any fucking worse, could it? through your frustration, you start to make your way towards his door, not wanting a single thing that reminds you of him. "you don't understand me? god, y/n, that's so fucking hypocritical. you're so stuck up that when i was trying to do a nice thing because i fucking care ab- what are you doing?!" he hisses, eyes wide as you shove the sweats off your legs, leaving you in your underwear and his shirt.

you throw a glare at him through glossy eyes, face red with embarrassment and mostly anger, "i'm leaving. i don't need your shit, i need to go."

"and where the fuck do you think you're going?" richie says, following you as you walk towards his door.

"anywhere is better than being here with you." you spit, but his arm reaches to slam shut the door. you whirl around to find him much closer than you'd expected, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched in anger. tension fills the room.

"you're just gonna walk down there and dig through my fucking laundry, half naked, in front of my parents?" richie sneers. "no. you're not going anywhere, y/n. i don't care how much of a brat you are, or how much you hate me." he snaps, his breath hitting your face.

something about his words and his tone and most likely the situation you're in makes you swallow and clench your thighs together. damn richie and his hotness, and damn you and your stupid fucking feelings. "fine." you mutter, standing your ground still.

you can almost feel the two of you both fighting against it, but suddenly your lips are on his and hes spinning you, tossing you onto the bed.

"you're so fucking controlling. i hate it." you mutter as he crashes against you on his mattress. "really, princess? because you seem to like it when my cock is inside you." he spits back, cheeks red with anger. you gulp back a sneer, feeling yourself get wetter by the minute as he thrusts against you.

"whatever, richie. just fuck me if you're going to fuck me, or i can leave." you say and he growls, looking pissed. he ruts against you and he's hard already. you'd make fun, but you can feel yourself slick through your underwear and his fingers are already pulling off your panties, palming himself as he kisses you harshly.

"then be fucking good and shut up." he mutters, making you think back to the first time you hooked up. there's a fire between you two as he pulls himself out of his jeans, pumping a few times before running his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. you let out a strangled whimper, trying your hardest not to give in and show him any emotion.

and then he's pushing into you roughly, just as you remember it, and this time you wonder if he can taste your dried tears on your lips as he fucks into you hard.

you clutch him, letting out moans and stuttering breaths as he moves his hips but then he's pulling you closer to his chest, fingers gripping the material of his shirt and suddenly you can smell him.

you smell him everywhere, all around you and it becomes overbearing and overwhelming as you realize that you can't just hide your feelings for richie anymore, especially not with the way he's holding you against him. it seems way too intimate to be just casual, and you feel the stinging behind your eyes at the realization.

you let in a gasp as it hits you, tears for the fourth time today streaming down your cheeks. his face is buried in your neck as he fucks into you so you hold your breath, hoping you'll stop crying quicker than he'll notice.

he hits a spot inside you that makes you moan and a sob escapes with it, making richie instantly perk up, eyes wide as he sees your face.

"why are you crying?" he asks, this time with no sneer, obviously able to read that your tears are from a very raw emotion. he stills himself but stays inside you, elbows stilting him up above you as his fluffy curls frame his face.

you shake your head, your chest shaking with tremors. "keep going." you mutter, trying to rock your hips against his as you squeeze your eyes shut, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. at least you won't have to look at him. "richie, keep going."

"no, y/n, what - am i hurting you?" he asks, and he sounds so soft and nervous, a complete 180 from just a few minutes ago. he starts to pull out and you grab him, trying to make him stay, but he pulls all the way out and mutters, "baby, what's going on?"

and you let out another sob at that, not able to express how heartbreaking it is for him to call you that, for him to be so soft when you know all he wants is just a good fuck.

"please talk to me sugar, i'm gettin real nervous." he mutters and that's enough for you to look up at him through tear blurred eyes. he's gnawing on his kiss-bruised lip, looking like he might cry himself.

you shake your head, sitting up slightly on your elbows and rubbing at your eyes as his shirt on your frame falls over your bare thighs.

"i'm sorry, i'm just - i'm just scared." you mutter, hands shaking. richie's looking at you with wide eyes, propped on his elbow above you. "scared of what?" he asks and you let out a quick, tearful and defeated sigh. "i don't want to make you hate me more. i just - i'm scared because i think i h- i think i have feelings for you. and i’m scared." you mumble it and you watch as his face contorts.

you feel sick for one moment when he looks stoic, and you think he may just do the job for you and kick you out.

but then he smiles a genuine, beautiful smile and you're once again reminded of his unique and beautiful features and you think of how stupid you've been not to see what's been in front of you all this time. the thought makes tears fall from your eyes.

"y/n, doll, i don't... i don’t think you have to be afraid." he says with a shake of his head, sounding slightly nervous himself. you look at him, your heart skipping as he looks back at you, the most serious he's ever been.

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes, trying not to get too excited. he shakes his head, looking just as nervous as you felt, his own eyes welled with unshed tears.

"-i think about you all the time. i don't know why, i can't understand my attraction to you, but it's there. you've got me. and it sucks, because you're insufferable." he admits.

you're so relieved you could fly. something snaps in your chest and you laugh lightly, hand falling onto his cheek to rub his jaw. "what makes you so high up on your horse? you're awful. and how do you think i feel, thinking about you all the time? its disgusting, rich." you say through a watery smile. he returns that same smile and he chuckles, almost as if in disbelief.

he says nothing, instead just kisses you, which you return happily. he slips his tongue against your lip and you feel that the fire is still there - and as you part your lips and he kisses you harder, tongue slipping through your lips, you groan.

he pulls away and kisses a trail down to your neck, his hips now rocking slowly into you and making you moan lightly. "you're so fucking beautiful." he mutters into your neck and butterflies flutter in your stomach. you're throbbing in need as he moves against you but he pulls back to smile at you softly. "do you trust me?" he asks with a grin. you lift a playful brow at him, "i know i shouldn't, but i kind of do."

and with that, he leans down so that he can kiss down your chest and rubbing his hands over your bare legs. you watch him until you realize his intention and your stomach swirls with butterflies. "richie, your parents are downstairs. we don't have time" you whisper bashfully, biting back a moan as he lifts up your shirt and kisses your bare stomach.

"they won't bother us." he says dismissively and you're about to argue but he's slowly placing a thumb against your neglected clit and rubbing gently. it feels incredible and you moan right into the shell of his ear as he slowly moves his finger pad.

he leans back with a grin and you mutter, "okay, rich. if you say so." and then you slip your shirt off and he sits back, pulling his own shirt off. "let me see all of you, baby. i finally get you all to myself." he mutters, rubbing your bare hips. his words send a different kind of shiver down your spine and you smile bashfully, unclipping your bra so that you're splayed out fully naked beneath him.

"shit, doll." he mutters, eyes raking over your heaving chest and down the swell of your stomach and hips and to your legs, his fingers softly trailing after his eyes. "how could i ever hate you?"

you sock him lightly on the shoulder and he laughs quietly, shaking his head. his curls flop on his forehead and you feel that tickle in your chest again so you pull him down to your lips, falling back onto his mattress.

he wastes no time, kissing down your stomach and looking up to you, pulling your legs and draping them over his shoulders. "you want me to taste you, baby?" he asks, mischievous glint in his eyes. you let out a stuttering breath, too aroused to roll your eyes. "please, richie." you whisper, running your fingers through his curls.

he watches you as his tongue sticks out, licking a stripe up your pussy before swirling on your clit, making you gasp in pleasure.

the feeling is sharp and pleasant as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks lightly, tongue running over your folds. his hands move to hold your thighs as he delves in, your moans quieting as the pleasure increases because you're worried his parents might hear.

his mouth moves on you expertly, his tongue sliding to fuck up into you and making your hips buck, his nose brushing against your clit. you tug on his hair and he groans, sending vibrations through your body that make your toes curl.

its soft as he rubs your stomach, his tongue working you so well that within a few minutes, you know you’re already about to cum.

reaching to cup your face, his thumb presses against your lips and you kiss it softly, making smirk in between your thighs as he kitten licks your clit and draws a gasp from your lips. "rich, oh my god, i'm so close." you sigh out, overwhelmed by how good you feel, by the pleasure coursing through you and the affection for the boy you're with.

he just holds you tighter to his face, lapping your juices up and flicking against your clit before sucking, your thighs tightening. "richie, please, i'm gonna-" and but yourself off with a high moan, hand covering your mouth as you hit your high.

you cum on his tongue, legs shaking as you ride out the first orgasm you'd ever gotten from anyone's mouth and your fingers comb through his hair. "rich, fuck." you mutter in bliss as you come down from your high, full of affection and need.

"you liked that, huh sugar?" he says with a grin as he rises back up to kiss you. you roll your eyes with a small smile, "shut up." you say lightly.

you're still sensitive as you pull him to line up at your entrance. he presses a soft kiss to your lips and you blush, tasting yourself on him. "you sure, baby?" he mutters, and you nod. "yes, richie. please."

and he finally pushes himself in again, this time easing in slowly and kissing you sweetly. your hands play with his curls as he fills you and you moan when he's finally buried to the hilt, still sensitive enough that you clench tightly around him. his hand snakes to pin yours above your head and he holds onto it, keeping you in his hand as he starts to pump into you.

this time it's much slower and with much more intention as he thrusts into you, the first minute moving in very shallow thrusts until you start moving your hips against his in need.

he picks up the pace then and it makes you grasp his shoulder as he thrusts into you, hitting a new angle that makes you let out whimpers every few moments. the feeling of richie stretching you out slowly and hitting a place deep inside you that you didn't realize you needed makes you smile into his kiss.

“look at you, sugar. fuck, you’re so pretty taking my cock like this. god.” he mutters, moaning as he fucks you.

his hand is still holding yours. "you're so amazing." he mutters into your ear, "taking me so well, baby. so good for me." he says, kissing your ear and you whine, dragging your nails down his back in pleasure.

"all mine. i get you all for myself, huh?" he says as he thrusts into you at a passionately slow pace, your hands holding on to his shoulders as you hook your ankles around his hips. "yes, fuck, rich. all yours," you mumble, feeling your second orgasm coming on and chasing it as much as you can.

"please, you feel so good." you beg, unsure what you're asking for but knowing that richie will satisfy it. his hands fall to your hips, "i'm close, sugar." he mutters and he thrusts a bit harder, hitting a spot inside you that has you keening loudly. he chuckles, kissing you and muttering, "shh, sweetheart, we have to be quiet."

you nod, eyes closing as he thrusts into you, one hand slipping up to roll your nipple softly and making you moan his name. as he sucks a hickey on to your neck, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and you clench around him. “god, you were made for me, baby. fuck, takin’ it so well.”

you hit your second orgasm and you softly bite into richie's shoulder, his own moan at the feeling of you clenching around him making you turn red. you feel his hips stutter and he groans as he releases inside of you.

waves of pleasure course through your body and you shake with exhaustion, a blissful feeling coming over you as richie rides out both of your highs, chest pressed against yours and breathing your name into your neck.

he pulls out of you slowly, rubbing your stomach as he kisses you and rolls onto his mattress next to you. you stare at each other and you know you must look like a mess - your hair is still slightly damp from the water, your freshly washed skin is now sticky with sweat, and your face has tear tracks on it, and yet richie mumbles, "you're fuckin' stunning, y/l/n. it’s insane."

you turn red and chuckle, "you're pretty fucking incredible yourself, tozier." he smiles at you, pulling you closer. his fingers dance along your skin and you squirm as he mutters, "no, that's all you, toots."

his fingers, you now realize, are deliberately tickling you, and you let out a few winded laughs, swatting at his hands as the sensation of him on your skin has you giggling.

"y/n! why are you laughing so much?” he asks, but he's releasing little laughs himself, his breath hitting your skin. you can't help the screams of laughter, knowing his parents downstairs can hear you.

"stop, richie, st-stop!" you mutter as his long fingers tickle your sides. "i'm not doing anything!" he mutters through a chuckle. his eyes are soft as he stops his motions and just stares at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

he sighs, looking happy, "god, please be mine. i think i'll die if i can't do this with you forever."

your heart swells at the words and you blush, your hands falling onto his cheeks. "of course i will, rich." you mumble, kissing him soundly. his arms encircle your waist and he pulls you towards him, kissing you back lovingly as he pinches your ass cheek lightly. you pull back with a small giggle, "rich!"

he shrugs with a smug smirk and you wack his arm lightly, "you're a real rude boy, you know." you tease, and he shrugs, "you seem to like it." with that, he kisses you softly.

and yeah, you definitely do.

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #we simp for richie every day #losers x reader #bill denbrough smut #stanley uris smut #eddie kaspbrak smut #losers club x reader

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