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simpingsavant · 5 months

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Late Night

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Summary: You are the person always working when Spencer stops by to get his fix of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slow-burn. A gross man flirts w you for plot purposes. Promise it's very non-major but just in case.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: First time posting for smosh, but not the first time posting fanfic. I made a whole side blog for this lol I'm thinking I want to post more so feel free to send me smosh requests and give lots of love so I stay motivated to write more hehe <3

Working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour convenience store is generally not a good idea. Except this one is in a nice area of LA, you’re almost always working with someone, and it’s slow enough that you can get your grad school work done.

Four months ago, when you were first looking at the help wanted sign in the window, you decided you would give it a week to see if it was actually worth it. Now, you were contently typing away on your computer as a group of middle-aged people grabbed alcohol and snacks. They were fancily dressed but the expressions on their faces were reminiscent of college students who were partying through the night like they owned it. When they came up with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and enough snacks to last them weeks, you happily scanned the items.

The silver fox dressed in a deep, blue suit dropped a twenty in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” You said, handing him a receipt as his cohorts grabbed the food.

The bell jingled as they left. Your coworker was in the back taking inventory. You looked down at your laptop, rereading the last couple of sentences as you found your place in the research essay you’d been taking notes from.

You loved your job. You worked from 11 pm to 8 am and although it took you time to adjust to a new sleep schedule, it was worth it. You were paid slightly more since you were working such an atrocious shift and you never interacted with your boss. Occasionally, he would message you that he was coming in early to talk, but he often just texted about what he wanted you to get done.

Until 1 am, you were working with Michael, a young man who was in his senior year of college. At 4 am, Marie would come in, an older Latina woman who had been working this shift for over ten years now. She’d relieve you for your break and you’d come back just in time for the morning rush.

You liked the morning rush. Although you couldn’t get much homework done at the time, it was when you had your most regulars. You would see moms buying their children lunch before school, office workers buying cheap coffee, and students buying energy drinks.

Marie would man the register, and you would come to help if needed. During rests, you would be restocking shelves or cleaning.

From 1 am to 4 am, you would usually see only a few faces. You would see students who stay up extremely late or workers having to go in much too early. Since it was a nice neighborhood, they were all pleasant people and you never worried about your own safety or well-being.

Only one regular came in consistently during these hours. He looked to be about your age with chocolate hair that curled at the nape of his neck. He came in just after 1 am and always sported dark eye circles. He purchased anywhere from 4 to 8 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and occasionally a bag of chips.

Sometimes, you’d see him in the morning again before you were off. He’d buy a cheap coffee and some fruit.

For the first month, you were too concerned with doing your job well to start any conversations besides pleasantries. He was, however, the first customer you recognized as a regular. You couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would need so many energy drinks. In particular, why in God's name did he love Mountain Dew Kickstart?

Maybe you were so intrigued because he caught your eye from day one. He was dressed in combat boots and a worn jacket. You soon learned those two items were part of his daily attire. You liked the way his hair looked or the way his downturned eyes crinkled as he smiled.

In your second month of working there, you spent way too much time trying to think of a way to start a conversation.

So far, you only got:

“Hi.”

“How’s your night going?”

“Good, and you?”

“Fine. Do you want a bag?”

“No, I have my backpack.”

“Okay. Your total is $12.53, go ahead and swipe, insert, or tap your card. Would you like your receipt?”

Sometimes he said yes, sometimes he said no. A few times, your hands would brush. He was always so warm, your cold hands lingering as he bashfully smiled and looked away.

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

His hair was getting longer and you thought it suited him well. You wanted nothing more than a reason to hold a genuine conversation with him.

During your third month, that reason finally came.

He walked in, luscious locks replaced with a buzz cut and you couldn’t help but go “Oh wow.”

“Is it that bad?” He joked, rubbing the top of his head.

“No, no,” You immediately said, hands moving rapidly. “It just surprised me.” A beat of silence followed before you added, “You pull it off.” He really did, but you also took that as a sign you liked him a little too much. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thanks, it was for work,” He adds, voice monotone despite the little grin he sported at your compliment. He walks farther into the store, toward the opposite wall with the display of drinks.

“For work? Are you joining the army?” You question, stumbling over your words slightly as you realize that it’s finally happening—you are finally holding a conversation with him.

“No,” He laughs. “I work for this online entertainment company.” He fills his arms with five cans. “It was for a special.”

“Oh,” You reply, rolling on the balls of your feet as you try to think of ways to keep the conversation going. “Are you an actor?”

“More behind the scenes,” He replies, coming up to the counter and placing his drinks down. He grabs a bag of chips from the front display.

“That’s cool,” You say, picking up the first can as you begin scanning.

He shrugs, “I’m sure half the city does stuff online.”

“I doubt that,” You scoff. “Maybe half does entertainment, but definitely not exclusively online content.” Feeling a little bad for shutting him down, you look up at him for a moment, expecting to see disappointment or annoyance.

Instead, he’s smiling. It’s not a large smile, but it quells your anxiety.

“You’re probably right,” He answers, fishing out his card.

“I usually am,” You joke, giving him a quick look before clicking away on your screen. “Your total is $10.54.”

He lets out a short laugh that makes your insides flip with satisfaction. “I’m Spencer by the way,” He offers, putting away his card after the reader beeps.

“Y/N,” You say, tapping your name tag. “Do you want your receipt, Spencer?”

“Sure, Y/N,” He answers, putting his drinks into his backpack.

You rip it from the printer and hold it out. The way he said your name makes you shiver. He takes the receipt and bids you farewell.

You see him in the morning and you’re eighty percent sure he times it to check out with you instead of Marie. Today he opted for an iced coffee with lots of cream and a plastic container of chopped mango.

“Good morning, Spencer. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, but not long enough. What about you?”

You see a flash of realization on his face as soon as he says it, but you’re speaking before he can correct himself.

“Haven’t slept yet, but I get off in ten minutes and will be able to sleep till five today so that’s nice.”

“What’s at five?”

“Class. They’re in the evening since so many grad students work day jobs.” You tap away on the screen. “Would you like your receipt?”

“Nah, just toss it.” He picks up the drink and fruit. “See ya later, Y/N.”

“See you,” You reply, crumpling the receipt and throwing it in the small trash bin under your register before waving to the next customer.

Since then, Spencer has come in every night without fail and sparked a conversation with you. You learn that the company he works for is called Smosh and you think the name is vaguely familiar. He asks you what you’re studying and why you’re always on your laptop.

The next month and a half goes by quickly. You come to expect him, anticipating his nightly visits. He has recently started staying longer, leaning over the counter and smiling at you as he talks about something that happened the other day. If another person comes in, he usually takes that as his sign to leave, wishing you well and exiting before the new customer is ready to check out.

You’re unfortunately not getting as much homework done because of this, but you don’t mind one bit. You either work during your break or just take some time before class to do more. You wonder if he’s not getting as much sleep because of this, worried you’re burdening him. Despite this, you know that you’ll selfishly never be able to turn him away. Even if it is for his own benefit.

Once, he came in before Michael had left. Your conversation was curt and he left right after you gave him the receipt. Michael stared you down the whole time and Spencer was clearly thrown off by another person being there.

“Who was that?” Your coworker asked, moving toward you from his spot behind the hot food.

“Just a regular,” You answer, trying to keep your cool. You pull out a cloth and begin wiping down the counter, wanting to occupy your hands. “He usually comes later.”

“Ah,” Michael says, nodding slowly and giving you a look. “That’s it?”

“Yeah?”

“Interesting.”

The comment piques your interest and you can’t help but ask, “How so?”

Michael smirks at you, “Why do you care?”

“Bro, shut up,” You hiss, pushing him out of your face and walking over to your stash of food. Your face felt hot as you walked past, and you attempted to hide it in the collar of your shirt. It was never fun to be caught with a crush, but you wanted to know Michael’s thoughts. So far, you and Spencer always talked in privacy, with no onlookers to comment on if your feelings seemed mutual.

“Fine, fine,” He relents, holding his hands up. “It’s just that I saw him through the window before he came in and he was smiling way too big for someone coming in the pick up energy drinks.”

“You’d be surprised. He gets those every night,” You defensively argue, “He probably has a shrine at home.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as you pop a chip into your mouth. “That smile dropped as soon as he saw me. I bet he wishes it was just you.”

“Don’t say that stuff.”

“Why not? Don’t you like him? You definitely lit up when you saw him.”

You gawk at your coworker, absolutely astonished at how easy it was for him to notice. This was the first time anyone witnessed the two of you interact and now you were questioning every interaction. Did he like you? Or did he just like that you gave him a confidence boost because your infatuation was so obvious?

“W-what’s your major again? Investigation?” You accuse, stuttering out of pure frustration.

“Yes, actually—”

You roll your eyes, but the sound of the door brings your back to attention. You steel your expression but are grateful the conversation ended. It was a wake-up call for you and you spent the rest of your shift trying to understand your feelings more.

Could it still be called a crush? You felt like you knew so much and yet so little about him. When did you cross the line from strangers to acquaintances? How do you go from acquaintances to friends? Did you even want to be friends?

After that, Spencer always came in after Michael left, his disposition more friendly when it was just the two of you. You didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, but it was hard to think about when only a counter separated the two of you and he was radiating warmth and cracking jokes.

“Okay,” You hear Michael say and all of a sudden you are back to reality, no farther in your reading than you were 10 minutes ago.

The door to the back shuts and you look at your coworker with wide eyes.

“I finally finished with inventory.”

He looks down at his phone, prompting you to look at the time showing on your laptop.

12:56

“Sweet,” He says, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Need anything from me before I go?”

“No,” You answer. “Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna go grab my stuff before I clock out.”

“For sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” Michael says.

He opens the door to the back and you turn to your computer. The break room was through those doors as was the back entrance which almost all employees used when coming and going.

You focused on your computer, reading the most important parts of the study and taking down notes. In the back of your mind, you knew Spencer would be arriving soon. It makes you nervous, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you await his arrival.

You have been thinking lately about how to advance your relationship. Maybe get more personal with the information or invite him to hang out outside of your job. The idea makes you queasy because you worry about ruining everything by trying to get more.

You finished the reading and moved on to another class assignment. Spencer came in soon after, his lips quirked up and no jacket on. The weather was getting warmer and it was rather dry. You could absolutely walk around with only a T-shirt and jeans on despite the time.

This, however, drew your eyes to his arms immediately. They weren’t as hairy as you were expecting, his beard and how quickly his hair grew back making you think they would be. He wasn’t very muscley in any way, but your eyes shamelessly lingered on his biceps longer than you wanted.

His skin was littered with freckles and tattoos, black ink that started at his forearm and rose past his t-shirt. You could spend hours looking at them, a couple of them immediately garnering your interest.

“Hey,” You greeted, your eyes snapping up to his face. You were pretty sure he caught you, but he thankfully said nothing. Maybe he was used to his tattoos being looked at, an easy cover considering you weren’t just looking at his tattoos.

“Hey, how’s your night?” He makes his way across the store with ease, eyes staying on you.

“Fine, it’s extra slow tonight.”

“That’s nice,” He’s speaking loud enough that you can hear him from far away. “Are you getting a lot of homework done?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “Finals are coming up and I’m working on all the trivial homework now so I can study and work on the final essays in the library.”

“Is this your final year?”

“Sort of. I’ll be getting my masters after this, but I’m on an automated track for my PhD.”

There’s silence as he grabs a final can and walks up to the front. It’s almost awkward, but you aren’t sure why. It seems like he wants to ask you something, but is struggling to say it.

You start scanning his items, letting him think instead of trying to fill the space with meaningless talk.

“Are you still working here over the summer?”

“I am,” You light up, realizing why he was nervous. It sent a spark through your body to think about him missing you.

God, you wanted him so bad.

“I’m also doing some research work for a professor though,” You add. “I’m honestly too busy to have a job and it will only get worse in the upcoming year, but I need the money and this is the best option for pay and the ability to do homework.”

“Damn,” Spencer sighs. “I’m sorry about that.”

His voice is soft and sincere. It throws you off for a moment, not used to this kind of sympathy. Your social circle consists of Michael, Marie, and other students who were also going through their own shit.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You shyly reply, eyes falling to the counter and lips forming a tight line as your mind races.

“No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “It must be so difficult and yet you never seem like you’re struggling.”

With a large breath, you finally accept his compliment. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” You look up to see that his gaze is already on you and you hold eye contact for an absurd amount of time. You’re sure any onlookers would consider the scene intense.

The pressure of the moment builds, compressing your lungs.

“Um, anyways, your total is $9.54,” You say, breaking the silence and eye contact.

“Oh, right.”

Spencer shoves his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet and you once again admire his arms as he’s busy.

“How was work today?” You ask, wanting to dissipate the intensity of the moment.

“Long.” He answers. “This week is a filming week so I’ve been busy as hell working behind the camera and being in a few videos too. Tomorrow is Friday though and I don’t have to be in till 11 am.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “That sucks.”

Long ago, when curiosity finally got to you, you looked up Smosh. You realized quickly that the name was familiar because it was quite popular back in OG YouTube. You spent an hour exploring their channels before growing bored and looking up videos with Spencer specifically. It was weird and you could only watch in short increments of time before needing a break. You felt like you were violating his privacy, but struggled to stop when you realized just how funny he was, his humor translating perfectly on camera. He held your attention in so many videos, quick quips making you burst out laughing.

You also note the differences in how he talks to you and how he talks to the camera. Although quiet, he cracks jokes almost every time he speaks. His coworkers seem like friends and you’re sure that helps to comfort any nerves he would have on screen. However, they were obviously trained on-camera talent whereas he simply fell into it because of how much the audience liked him. Around you, he made jokes, but he also seemed to shed the demeanor he developed for videos. Not every sentence was about entertaining.

They were real. Real discussions with real problems no matter how mundane.

“Yeah, but at least we are getting it done. Next week is all at my computer or in meetings,” He adds, tucking away his card and putting his drinks into his backpack. “Anyways, so, when is your finals week?”

“In two weeks technically, but I have a couple of major things going on next week,” You answer, taking a seat on the stool next to you.

“Like what?” Spencer inquires, a light in his eyes that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Well, I’m taking four classes. Two of them have an exam and a final essay. One has a final essay and matching presentation, and then last is a group assignment that also has a presentation and essay.”

“Oh no, not a group assignment,” Spencer interjects, empathy on the tip of his tongue.

“I know,” You agree, nerves falling away as you ease into familiar territory. “People in masters programs are not as bad but they can still be pretty clueless and unhelpful.” You shake your head in frustration, “Like this one guy in my group, he thinks he is so edgy and smart. He takes no criticism but also doesn’t put in enough work. He’s basically made me his personal target and I literally have a group chat with two other members just to rant when he says the stupidest shit.”

“Damn, sounds like an ass.”

“He is,” You groan, closing your eyes. “But we are almost done. We have the essay due next week and then presentations during the finals period.” You grin in relief, “After that, I have two weeks of break before starting my internship with the professor.”

“Are you getting paid for that?” Spencer asks.

The conversation was flowing easily, his interest in your life more evident than ever. It isn’t lost on you that he’s exhibiting every sign of attentive listening and it makes your insides twist. He’s leaning forward, fingers tapping away on the counter as he nods periodically.

“Only in experience,” You sigh. “Money would be great, but I’d rather learn from this and not get paid than not do it at all. I only have to dedicate 12 hours a week to it anyway and that’s not much considering my usual schedule is jam-packed.”

“What’s the study about?” He asks, holding your gaze more often than usual. You find it hard to reciprocate, too nervous to engage in whatever he is doing. You aren’t sure if you could call it flirting because he definitely wasn’t complimenting you, but he was acting differently enough that it was noticeable.

Before you can answer, a customer walks in, the bell ringing in your ears as you look at the brunette in front of you. You expect him to leave like every time before, but he doesn’t move. Although thrown off slightly, you recover quickly and answer his question. When the customer is ready to check out, Spencer simply steps to the side but lingers near. As soon as the man leaves, Spencer is right back where he was and asking you another question that keeps you talking.

He leaves twenty minutes later, eyes half-lidded and tired. You don’t see him that morning, likely because he doesn’t have to go into the office as early as usual. Despite logic, you still miss him.

When Spencer comes in that night, he’s later than usual. Not by much, it’s not even 2 am when he walks through the door. And yet, he’s apologetic.

“Hey, sorry,” He mumbles, coming right up to the counter.

Taken aback, your hands slip from your keyboard and you stand up straight. Fridays were always the busiest weekday and although you did wonder where Spencer was, you didn’t have much time to think about it.

“I was playing a game and totally lost track of time,” He continued, a touch more out of breath than usual. He runs a hand through his short, recently bleached hair.

“No worries,” You say, not quite sure why he’s apologizing. It’s not like you had a set time to hang out or do something together. “Need to come get a drink so you can keep going?” You ask, trying to dissipate the awkward feeling that was bubbling up. You didn’t want to let yourself assume more than was reality.

“No, no, I mean,” He stumbles, “I probably will go back to playing, I just—never mind.” He looks down, staring at the counter, specifically the display of scratchers in the built-in glass case.

God, this felt so weird. You shouldn’t have said that, maybe he actually wanted to see you but then you ruined it by making it about the drinks and not you.

“So, what game were you playing?” You ask, the air feeling stuffy.

After a relieved sigh, Spencer goes into the details. You listen intently because not only is he a good storyteller, but you also genuinely care about his interests.

As he rants about some game mechanic, your mind begins to wander. More precisely, you wonder if your affection for him is obvious. Even from the short interaction you had in front of Michael, he could tell there was something more going on. To a stranger would it be obvious? To your friends would it be obvious? Would they say you two would make a cute couple? Or would they not see the chemistry?

“Oh, that’s frustrating,” You say, picking up on the pause in his monologue.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “It’s life.” He leans over the counter, shoulders more relaxed than when he first entered. “I needed a break anyway. So, how’s your night been?”

“Well,” You begin. “I felt rather lost without you.” Sarcasm is dripping off your tongue and Spencer immediately smiles. “My internal clock is all screwed up.”

“You poor thing,” He says, playing along.

“You, sir, need to take your responsibility more seriously,” You laugh, sitting back down in your chair and leaning over to grab your water. “More than half an hour late, I’m sure your body is screaming for a Mountain Dew.”

“Not just a Mountain Dew,” He protests, “A Mountain Dew Kickstart.”

You giggle, just about to add something before the bell rings and your eyes immediately shift to the front door. The patron, dressed in black jeans, a blue hoodie, and a leather jacket, comes up to you immediately. In the fifteen-foot walk between you and the door, you notice he is at least twenty years older than you, skin wrinkling and sagging with age. His clothes are worn, fraying at the seams. When he pushes forward, Spencer immediately slinks away, stepping over to look at the opposite wall of food. The stranger places his hands on the counter and you see dirt under his nails.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Two packs of the Marlboro Red,” He commands, his eyes dragging up and down your body. Just as you turn to grab the cigarettes, you can see a smirk forming on his lips.

You sigh, taking a moment to harden your exterior before turning around to scan the packs. These kinds of customers were uncommon for the area, but still came in enough for you to pick them out of a crowd immediately. Usually, they leave easily enough.

“Anything else?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Two of those beef taquitos, hun,” He says, a dirty finger pressing against the warm glass.

You feel a wave of cold at the name but move aside to grab the hot food without any fuss. The sooner he leaves the better. When you hand them over to him, he purposefully moves his hand far enough forward that it touches yours. You are vaguely aware of Spencer in the background, but force your eyes off him.

You can deal with this on your own just fine.

The stranger's eyes linger on your hand and you snatch it away, typing on the tablet to add the taquitos to his total.

“Anything else?” You echo, voice more curt than before.

“Hmm,” He hums contemplatively, putting his finger to his chin like he’s performing. “I suppose I’ll take your number too.”

You fake a laugh, looking into his eyes for only a moment before going back to your screen. “Although I’m flattered, I don’t give my number to strangers.” A few more taps to the device, “Your total is $22.37.”

“Well,” He leans forward and reads off your name from the tag. It sounds sickly coming from his lips. “My name is Mark. Give me your number and then we won’t be strangers.” He pulls out his card to pay, shoving the cigarettes into his pockets.

You give him a forced smile, resting your hand on your heart while you try to let him down gently. “Nice to meet you, Mark, but still. I am not interested.”

“Why?” He questions, “You got a boyfriend?”

You debate telling him you’re in a relationship. Maybe it will get him to leave, maybe he’ll just suggest you cheat. It’s always difficult to tell.

“Dude,” You hear a voice speak up. “You’re holding up the line.”

Mark turns around to see Spencer a few feet behind. You have to crane your neck to see him, the brunette lining up down an aisle. He’s holding some random items, clearly having wandered around the store, paying attention but trying to look like he was merely shopping.

Just before Mark can say anything, Spencer is pushing forward and shouldering past. “Just take the L and move on,” He deadpans, his voice low and foreboding. He stares down the stranger, putting his items onto the counter without even looking away. He’s half a head shorter than the guy, but his presence alone makes up for that tenfold.

“Here’s your receipt,” You quietly interject, holding it out. Half of you was thankful for the interruption, but the other half of you was annoyed. Despite that, you choose to use this opportunity to end the conversation.

With a huff, Mark snatches the receipt from your hand.

“Whatever,” He mumbles to himself, “Bitch.”

The bell dings as he exits, leaving you and Spencer in a loud silence. You let out a shaky breath.

“Oh my god,” Spencer begins. His words draw your gaze away from the door and to him. You can see the concern on his face and the disgust in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You have a moment to say before he’s talking again.

“What an ass. Do you not have a panic button?”

“I do,” You answer, “But that’s for robberies.”

“Or this!” He protests, gesturing at the door where the man had exited. “You need to stay safe.”

“I was staying safe,” You defend.

“I can’t believe they have you alone at this time of night,” Spencer continues, seemingly not registering your words. “Like, anyone can just come in here!”

“Spencer,” You say, trying to grab his attention.

“You should never have to deal with that kind of–”

“Spencer,” You repeat, finally getting him to shut up.

“What?”

“It’s fine, I can deal with this on my own. You didn’t need to help,” You explain, wishing the moment would simply pass so you could move on.

“Just because you can deal with it on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” He argues, his voice softer than before.

His words leave you at a loss, unsure how to respond. He breaks the silence before you can.

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often,” You say, struggling to make any eye contact. “This is a nice area and usually they just give up after a couple of tries.”

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair with an exasperated expression. “Sorry,” He mumbles, the word being pulled from him. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You can see the regret in his eyes. “I got so heated and I should have just made sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” You say, “Thanks.” His apology was unexpected but very appreciated. “I am fine.”

Spencer nods, the moment feeling slightly awkward as the resolution comes. “When does the next person get here?” He asks.

“Four,” You answer, taking a chance to grab your phone and check the time.

2:21

“Damn, that’s a long time.”

“It’s whatever,” You shrug. “It goes pretty quickly since I’m basically just talking to you and then doing homework.”

When the words register for him, there’s a glint in his eyes and a small smile forming on his face. “That’s good,” He replies. There’s a pause before he speaks again, “But damn, that’s like an hour and a half away.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, resting back on your stool.

“Can I stay?” He asks, surprising you. “For peace of mine, I mean. I’m just thinking about me leaving and that guy coming right back in. I don’t know, it’s dumb, but I just can’t imagine leaving you right now.”

“Sure,” You reply, interrupting his word vomit once you’ve regained your barrings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, a closed-lip grin forming. “I would love for you to keep me company.”

“Cool,” He says, a smile forming for him.

The moment is awkward and foreign. From an outside perspective, you probably both look like grinning idiots.

“Well,” Spencer begins, breaking the silence, “I’m definitely going to need an energy drink to stay awake.” He looks down at the pile of snacks he brought up. “You keep working, I’m gonna put these away and come back up with stuff I actually want to buy.”

“Roger that,” You reply, giving him a look before turning back to your computer. You don’t get much work done as you wait for him to come back up. You can’t see him in the aisles, but as he moves between aisles, he always looks at you. The security camera screen is just to your right and you can’t help but watch him as he puts away the random collection of items.

You’re nervous, too distracted by his presence to focus on anything. You were somewhat excited to spend such a prolonged period of time with him. However, you were also absolutely terrified that you would make a fool of yourself or simply seem too boring.

“Okay,” You hear him say, already aware that he was making his way back to the front. “All done.” He is now holding three cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and a chocolatey protein bar. “Can I also get a couple of taquitos?”

“What kind?” You ask, reaching forward to start scanning his items.

“Your pick, I guess."

You smile at him and see he’s already grinning at you. You can’t help it, everything he does seems to make you happy beyond logic. “I’ll give you one chicken and one fiesta. The beef is fine and the cheese is not good.”

“Sounds like a plan,” He laughs, pulling out his card to pay and then opening a can and taking a big swig.

“Did that guy getting some make you crave them?” You ask, a joking glint in your eyes as you look up at him.

“Am I a misogynist if I say yes?” He replies, making you let out a laugh that was just a little too loud.

When you hand him the taquitos, he leans back onto the counter, head turned so you can see his side profile. He has the drink in one hand and the paper bag of taquitos in another. He takes a bite, a comfortable silence falling over you both. You occupy your time by looking down at your computer and mindlessly clicking around while you try to think of things to talk about.

“How was work?” You say, deciding on that as the least risky option.

“Good,” He shrugs. “We finished a little late and traffic meant I didn’t get home till almost 7 pm.”

“Oh jeez,” You groan. “My commute is pretty easy in the morning because I go opposite the traffic.”

“I’m jealous,” He replies, smiling at you. “Do you live far from here?”

A shock of electricity shoots through your body. “Somewhat. This isn’t my local convenience store, but I’m not that far.”

Spencer nods, “This isn’t mine either.”

“What?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrows perked up like he didn’t just say something ridiculous.

“This isn’t your nearest convenience store,” You repeat slowly. When he nods, you ask, “So why do you come here?”

Spencer laughs, realizing his mistake. “The one nearest me is literally down the street, but they don’t always have these,” He answers, holding up the pineapple orange mango-flavored drink. “This store is only a few more minutes away and it always has them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you buy our stock,” You joke. “I’ve literally had my boss ask about why we are selling so many more.”

“Really?” He gasps, leaning in closer. “I used to only make the walk here if the closer one was out, but four months ago I just stopped bothering.”

The fact that four months is when you started working is not lost on you. Feeling confident, you add, “What about when you get coffee? I’m sure the other one has coffee.”

“True.” He looks slightly caught off guard, eyes scanning the store before speaking, “I only come to get coffee here if I’m too lazy to make it at home and running early enough to…” He pauses for a second, the sentence closing as if it wasn’t the planned ending. Finally, he adds, “To see you.”

You hum, looking down because your face is warm and you’re at a loss for words. Luckily, he’s too nervous to look at you either. You feel tingly, knowing full well that this is a special moment that you’ll look back on if you end up dating.

“Anyways,” Spencer breaks the silence. Before he can say anything else, he yawns, mouth opening wide.

“You know you can go home, right?” You laugh. When you look down at your computer, you see it’s about half an hour later. “No one has come in and I doubt anyone will before Marie gets here.”

“No, no,” He protests. “And anyway, aren’t I making time fly?”

“I suppose,” You grin. “You are quite great company.”

Spencer flashes you a smile that makes your insides twist. You wonder if he is picking up on all this. If he can tell that you’re interested in him.

“I’m honored.”

“You should be.” You sarcastically quip. “I have high standards for the company I keep close to me.”

“Is this close?” He contemplates aloud. “I’ve never even seen you without your black polo, black pants, and nonslip shoes.”

You laugh, looking down at your clothes. “Don’t you like this fit?”

“I mean, I love it,” Spencer starts, “But I don’t know how much you’re serving day to day.”

“I serve even when I’m only going to class,” You protest. “Maybe when I’m done with finals, I’ll grace you with my out-of-work personality.”

Spencer grins, “I’d be honored.”

You’re on high alert, knowing exactly what was happening.

“You should be,” You echo, unsure of what else to say. It doesn’t matter though. You could say anything and Spencer would find you charming.

“Maybe we can go to competing stores and graffiti them,” He suggests, long since turned around so he can look at you fully.

“Pft,” You laugh. “I don’t want to get arrested with you the first time we hang out.”

“You don’t? That’s usually my go-to!”

“Well, my go-to is food. Or the arcade.”

“The arcade?” He questions. “All this time I’ve been talking about games and you’ve never mentioned that you’re also a gamer?”

“I am not!” You protest. “Definitely not compared to you. You’re a savant and I’m the fool.”

“I doubt that,” He replies, a grin never leaving his face as he leans in closer. “I say arcade so I can check out your skills.”

“Deal,” You say, leaning onto the counter so you are only a few feet away. “The arcade it is.”

#smosh #smosh games #smosh fanfic #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew #spencer x reader #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfic #spencer agnew fanfiction #spencer agnew imagine

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aseaofyoongi · 1 year

Text

just desserts | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: one night stand; neighbors; set in the summer cause i miss it dearly.

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: jungkook is your next door neighbor who you have only crossed a few words with. however one hot summer day theres a city wide blackout and strangely enough, he shows up at your door w brownies. . and other delights.

warnings: crush culture; mentions of lack of confidence; masturbation (f.); foul language; naughty thoughts; penetrative sex; unprotected sex (wrap it up); dry humping; oral (m. receiving); praise; sub-ish jk!; jk has a huge dick;?brief mention of seokjin and joon; oc is very hørny for jk basically; those fucking gifs of jk w his long hair and glasses inspired this so thank you jeon jungkook; edited but excuse any mistakes please.

word count: 6,3 thousand words

posted: monday - january 30, 2023

A sixth floor walk up in the middle of the scorching month of July was certainly not fitting on your basis of an ideal home. But after your extensive apartment search always ended with high-priced, rodent infested corners New Yorkers often mistook for apartments, you were happy to shake on the deal for this studio apartment with Seokjin without having to break your piggy bank or burn a staggering hole in your pocket.

“When is the elevator going to be fixed, Seokjin,” you fanned yourself as beads of sweat adorned your white tank top.

“That’ll have to be when I finally win the lotto,” he guffawed from behind the plexiglass square standing between you and his office.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, beginning your journey up the stairs. He didn’t hear you though, instead his focus remained on whichever drama he played on the television.

Kim Seokjin, was the name of a superstar—or so he says. He claims to have attended the Juilliard School for about two years, with dreams of becoming the newest face of Hollywood and all of their high-priced productions. When Seokjin’s dad fell ill, he couldn’t keep up with the demands of keeping so many residence buildings open, he had to close more than half his buildings and just like that, financial strains created a hurdle the size of Mt. Everest in the life of Seokjin. He was left without his dreams, without his father and taking care of a building where the rent was too cheap to gain a profit, making just enough to cover the mortgage.

Normally, you weren’t so exposed to details of your landlord’s lives, but Seokjin was different. He was also your friend.

“I put water bottles around the halfway mark. The last thing I need is a lawsuit over a dead body,” he yelled up as you barely made it to floor two.

“How considerate. I’ll try not to die while you’re on the clock,” it was too hot to continue your journey up. . too hot to form coherent sentences. You just wanted to make it to your apartment and sit in front of the fan for the rest of the day.

“That’s all I’m saying,” you heard.

Once your foot met the landing on the third floor, your eyes desperately scanned for the promise of beverages Seokjin had informed you of, but the small table set-up on the other end of the hallway was completely empty. Leaving behind only the particles of dust and pure oxygen to inhale. Fuck—you actually felt like you were going to pass out. Just three more floors.

You wanted to yell down a snarky remark towards Seokjin but you figured that required too much energy you simply did not have.

Moving to New York was a decision you had made impulsively after feeling like you had overstayed your time in your parents house post-high school. You averted college at all costs because it just wasn’t for you. Lectures seemed like a bore and professors were individuals being paid to legally torture their students so you joyfully averted that nightmare all together. Your immediate option was to get a job, but after many places began getting closed down back home, you found yourself job hopping as a means for survival.

It was not convenient, so you boarded a train to the city that never sleeps in hopes of never looking back. . And you haven’t since setting foot here eleven months ago.

“Just one more floor,” you uttered to no one in particular but the patchy silver handrail and the chipped white walls.

Your apartment was now in your line of vision and the only thing standing between you and the black steel door were just ten sets of stairs. Walking into the building your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat but now you were drenched, your top was sticking to your skin and the thick beads of dampness rolled down your body like the condensation on soft drinks from fast food places.

Heaving with exhaustion you took a seat on the very last step of the sixth floor, finally you made it but you just needed a minute, just a single minute to catch your breath. The fucking heat was unbearable; intolerable; irregular, you could have sworn the sun inched closer and closer to planet earth as the day progressed.

Initially, you hadn’t heard as much as the squeaky hinges on the door frame, you were too divulged in your suffering from the days heat. Not to mention, your eyes were closed and you were too focused in a state of cooling down before hiding behind the thin walls of your apartment.

“Are you ok?” His voice became trapped in the muggy air surrounding the two of you. The bass in his tone never ceased to make your knees turn to jello, to make your toes curl and to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

Was the heat not enough suffering for one day?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat, “I’m fine. It’s just the heat.”

“Yeah, it definitely feels like we were shipped straight to hell today.”

“I don’t know, I think hell might be cooler than this,” he chuckled lightly—you’re foolish stammer and poor excuse of words enlightened him. The sun was still beaming brightly but you swore you saw stars after he had serenaded you so sweetly with the sound of his infectious laugh.

“I think you might be right,” he locked his door and walked past you on the stairs, “have a good day neighbor.”

“You too, Jungkook,” you called after him as he began his way down the unfortunate set of stairs.

Sometimes, you felt as if you’d been blessed as the main lead in the plot of a cheesy rom com, but after today the idea was really cemented in your head. Ok, look. . Jungkook was your hot neighbor, like very hot, unearthly hot, like he was handcrafted by God himself, kind of hot. Furthermore, only you and him resided on the sixth floor, living in a pair of tiny apartments right beside one another. Although that was all you had gathered so far, besides his name, it was enough to fill your head with delusions and daydreams of the man your eyes loved to gawk at every chance you got.

You read him very well, like the everlasting pages of your favorite novel. His silky hair was long and inched over the nape of his neck, he wore specs that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose accentuating his big doe eyes. Though his features seemed soft his aura was borderline the complete opposite—a silver hooped piercing sat in the right side of his rosette lips while tattoos peeked right out of the sleeves of the white button up he usually wore.

You closed the door to your apartment, removed your shoes and hung your keys on the flathead thumbtack pierced into the wall by the front door.

The apartment felt even more scorching than the bustling sidewalks. After opening all three of the windows you were bestowed to have between your room and the living room, you turned on your fan and walked into the bathroom to draw a much needed cool bath. Stripping off your sweaty clothes, you stepped into the tub. For a minute, you were immersed in the utter silence floating around you—all your ears detected was the distanced whirring fan all the way from your room.

Behind the back of your eyelids, the world was dark and your thoughts brought you back to your encounters with Jungkook on the stairs just moments ago. Your interactions with the boy were usually extended to a whispered, ‘hi’ or ‘hello,’ never as prolonged as it played out today.

In your thoughts, Jungkook strolled by day and night, as you embraced every look, every utterance, every single time he brushed his hair back using his slender fingers. He was the cultivation of your desires and the reason why your heart strummed against your chest a bit harder the days you saw him leaving around 12PM every afternoon.

It baffled you how he always managed to look fucking good every single day—even during the hottest days of the summer, while you looked like vile beast he managed to look so perfect.

. . So fucking perfect.

The faint tingles traveling through your body, caused your skin to form goosebumps. The pulsation of your clit is what really began driving you to clouded thoughts to imagine his hands against you. You imagined the pads of his fingers to be soft mimicking a delicate velvet fabric and while you crumbled under his touch, he would murmur the filthiest of words against your ear.

Those ministrations could be enough to have you coming hard—he wouldn’t even have to fuck you. Shit, even looking at him was enough.

Being away from all of the toys you safely stored in your nightstand, you grabbed the detachable shower head and adjusted the water pressure, prepped your feet up on the rim of the tub aiming it in between your legs in an inevitable attack against your clit.

Your head lulled back in sure bliss as you fed your carnal desires, the only thing missing was him.

“Fuck—” How you longed for him to have you in this position, so sensitive to his sinful doings; so aroused for him. It was like a hunger your fingers, toys and this stupid shower head could not satisfy.

The vibration of his name dripped from your lips like a chant and you felt that bubbling fervor form in the pit of your stomach. Spurts of pleasure rushed out of you so intensely you were overwhelmed by the explosions of fireworks as soon as your orgasm erupted.

When your breath had settled and you finally felt like you could stand, you opted for a quick shower, rushing to get into your pajamas and plopped down on your bed right in-front of the fan for a nap, having your dreams quickly invaded by him.

Work sucked on Monday afternoons.

All you ever did was stare out of the ticket booth at the movie theater as the few customers who despised the weekend rush came in. Besides, there was rarely anything to occupy your mind with on slow nights like this. You had already sweeped and your co-worker, Namjoon was surveying the screening rooms for any shenanigans the younger crowds could possibly be rattling up.

You always left that up to him—he was the more intimidating one between the two of you anyway.

“Room 5 is a wreck,” Namjoon announced his entrance into the lobby, “I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Walkie me if you need help,” you tapped the walkie clipped onto your belt buckle and he nodded, grabbing the broom and a few rags.

Your stomach grew irritated as you continued golfing down copious amounts of candies but the truth was you were starving and had no time to eat breakfast this morning; let alone make something to bring to work to eat for lunch.

Namjoon was a film major. He was the spitting image of a cliche by the way—his parents wanted him to become a doctor but that wasn’t his passion so he ran away to the city and began trotting up the golden stairs to his dream. You wished you had even an ounce of his determination, he knew exactly where he wanted to go and how to get there while you still stood at the base of the mountain of your life. . unbeknownst on how to tackle it or which way it was to begin your way up to the summit.

There was nothing you had a passion for and quite frankly sometimes you were utterly clueless as to what your purpose was in life.

Had no dreams and no goals to strive towards; nothing extraordinary you expected to blossom in your future. There was nothing, nothing and more nothingness occupying the hours of your days.

“My child,” Seokjin walked in through the glass door, he looked like he'd been chilling in an oven.

“Seokjin,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “what are you doing here? I thought you never left the air conditioner in your office plus don’t you hate the movie theater?”

“You’re absolutely correct. The dimmed lighting here is horrid and I deserve better than that. .”

“Of course, you do.”

“But,” he leaned over the counter, “I saw your little neighbor boyfriend leaving the building today and I was fucking gagged.”

“Trust me, Seokjin. I know how good he fucking looks in that white button up. I’ve lived it.”

“No,” he squealed, “He had a black short sleeve shirt today and—”

“Spit it out, bitch.”

“He has a full fucking sleeve,” he squealed.

“No. Fucking. Way.” The pauses in between your words were not placed for dramatic effect—you were in fact attempting to paint a detailed mental image of that sinful man.

How unfair is it that he gets to walk around us mortals with our average looks while he exudes such grand flawlessness.

“Looks like someone owes me fifty bucks.”

The bet. . you had completely forgotten about that.

“I'll pass it over on Friday once I get paid.”

“I told you,” he began, “once a man gets one tattoo they’re usually covered in them.”

“Yea, but he has this soft look to him, you know?” you shrugged, “I thought he might have had a few. But a whole sleeve?”

“Jungkook is a walking juxtaposition.”

“I suppose he is.”

Seokjin sat on the counter emptying a handful of sweets into his palm, “what are you doing eating all of this candy anyway?”

“Uh,” your thoughts were still filtered towards Jungkook. You wanted to see him so bad, “I’m starving and just waiting on Namjoon to finish cleaning room five so I can go on my lunch break.”

“Namjoon as in the buff hottie with the deep voice?”

“I guess.”

“Room five?” You nodded.

“I’ll take one ticket for whatever the fuck you guys are showing right now.”

“Didn’t you say you hated it here?” You printed a ticket to. . you looked down, to the latest minion movie and ripped off the top half, “you complained about the lights or something.”

“Can you just give me a ticket? I need it to execute my master plan,” he rushed your actions in cutting the ticket you had printed, “besides you owe me for coming all the way down here with vital intel about your secret crush.”

“I owe you nothing. I’ll be paying half a hundred for that by the end of the week, remember?”

“Consider this,” he snatched the ticket from your grasp, holding it beside his toothy grin, “your down payment.”

Before you could form a further argument, Seokjin vanished from in front of you and sprinted down the main hallway to screening room five.

The best thing about your job were the designated days off you had throughout the week. Tuesdays and Fridays were yours to enjoy and while today was Tuesday your schedule was still jam packed with an abundance of errands to complete come the early morning.

You had paid your utility bills, finished your laundry, cleaned your apartment and even set out poultry to defrost by the time you made it back home. It had been a very productive day.

Your last stop was the grocery store.

Oftentimes, you’d wander aimlessly, losing yourself in each aisle wondering about how the better half lives, how much better life would be if you didn’t have to keep incessant reminders of your weekly budgets stamped to the back of your head.

How much easier life would be if money wasn’t such a big determinant in the choices we were forced to make in our day to day lives.

Oh, how much easier life would be.

You only grabbed the essentials for the next couple of weeks including—rice, greens, fruits, water, milk, meat, and a variation of breakfast options.

Temptation roamed in the air as you headed out of the cereal aisle you were face to face with a bakery section where an unhealthy amount of baked goods were sprawled out—practically blaring out your name. All of the delicious delights made your mouth water and you couldn’t help but gravitate deeper and deeper, guided by the aroma of the sweet desserts.

“Neighbor?” It was his earthy voice, the same one you’d only heard vibrate among the walls of the tiny hallway of the sixth floor the two of you shared.

“Jungkook?” You looked up from the brownies and your eyes met his figure, in the same clothes you usually saw him leave his apartment. It was his work uniform, “You work here?”

“Is that judgment in your tone I hear?”

“N-no,” You stammered. Was he fucking with you? He had to be fucking with you. “Of course not. I would never judge—”

“I was just playing, neighbor.” Phew.

“I always come here. How come I haven’t seen you before?”

“I’m usually baking in the back. I was just coming out to set these down,” he held up the dozen cupcakes sitting inside the boxed packaging.

“You bake?” Hopefully, you sounded more stunned than judgemental because you were i. fact stunned.

“I’m an aspiring pastry chef. I go to culinary school,” Jungkook, your beautiful, doe eyed, tattooed, pierced neighbor was also a baker. Ok.

For some reason that made him so much more attractive.

“I would not have been able to guess that even if I tried,” You mentally kicked yourself at the lack of filter in your words. You weren’t trying to offend him and hopefully he does not take it as such.

He chuckled—that’s a good sign, “People tend to simulate that very reaction but you can certainly knock on my door if you’re ever craving something sweet. I promise they are amazing.”

Craving something sweet?

Your thoughts traveled back to the enticing thoughts you possessed a few days ago while you took a bath, the vivid image of the water pressure against your cunt and the pure desire to have him near made you dizzy. And now he was near, just a couple of feet away.

A wave of warmth traveled through your extremities, the pulse on your clit turned to an overbearing throb, you wanted to rub your thighs and alleviate the feeling. But you remembered where you were, in the middle of the grocery store and Jungkook still stood right before you. Nevertheless, you tried to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs; dampening your panties.

“I practically poured out all of the basic details of my boring life. I think you owe me at least something about you.”

“There’s not much to tell,” you shrugged, “but I work at the movie theater down the street if that piques your interest at all.”

“It does. I love movies.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there before.”

“Well, if I’m honest I haven’t gone in a long time but that’s only because work and school keep me pretty busy.”

The lust streaming through your body doubled to make your heart beat with fondness and you grew endeared in the way Jungkook’s eyes lit up when he talked about his aspirations to become a baker.

“You’ll have a free ticket waiting for you whenever your schedule clears up.”

“Promise you’ll join me when I decide to go.” His words carved themselves into your brain like a permanent tattoo, just as those decorating his arm. The fluttering feeling in your abdomen heightened as a result of the dithers, without being aware of it, that is the effect Jungkook had on you.

“As long as it’s on a Tuesday or Friday.”

“Deal.”

“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“See you, neighbor.”

Thursday was the worst day of the week so far.

Technically you were supposed to be at work, it was already 4:00PM, but instead you were still home. Even just sitting down in the muggy atmosphere of your in the miniscule space, you were doused, staining your clothes with sweat.

You were not willingly suffering at the lack of mercy the scorching weather subjected the city and everyone in it to, unfortunately the power had gone out. And while usually you had the luxury of a fan to cool down, today you had nothing.

Your windows and front door were left wide open in an attempt to cool down the place and still you felt as if you were sitting inside a fucking oven set to hightest temperature. There was no use.

“Neighbor.” Jungkook called out lightly knocking on the opened door.

Jungkook? Not Jungkook again when you looked like an absolute wreck.

“Hey Jungkook,” he stood at the door frame, a wide grin painted on his lips—he held a to-go box in his hands, “you can come in.”

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

“Sure,” you gave in, it’s not like it was actually doing anything. Besides, the last thing you needed was one of the crazy residents from the lower floors coming to bug you.

Jungkook took a seat next to you on the couch, he wore a sleeveless top exposing all of the ink embellishing his skin, every line, every curve, every word was so intricate and seemed so unique to him.

“I didn’t know you had these many tattoos,” a small fib was a price to pay to not seem like a weirdo, “did any of them hurt?”

“Some did,” he pointed at his tricep, “mainly these and a few others but I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Well, they’re beautiful,” you scanned his arm some more. It was truly like a mural embodying the beauty of art, “were you a singer?” you signaled at the microphone sitting on his forearm.

“I guess you could say that,” he adjusted himself on the couch, his nylon shorts rode up his thighs and you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes glanced down constantly. Jungkook didn’t notice though, he was too busy averting eye contact and scratching the back of his head, “My highschool friends and I used to make music. We recorded a mixtape.”

“I need a link to this mixtape. . like now,” You laughed hysterically.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Ok, ok,” Again, another surprise from the man you thought you had all figured out—every single day he surprised you more and more, “were you like a vocalist or a rapper?”

“Vocals mostly. I did try rapping once though but I sucked so badly they scratched it off the track.”

“At least they were honest and didn't let you crash and burn in public.”

“You should’ve seen me though. I thought I was the shit.”

Jungkooks giggles were everlasting as he recounted the many times their parents grew exhausted of kicking them out of their garages for their disturbances in the making of their great musical legacy.. He filled the room with vibrance. The longer you sat in the presence of Jungkook the more you were exposed to the colors that made Jungkook, Jungkook. Of course, you were intrigued by the phosphorescent hues allowing them to inch you closer in his direction. Wanting him to spare no details in the adventure of his life.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the packaging box beside him on the arm rest.

“Brownies,” he handed you the box, “I saw you eyeing them when you were at the bakery but you didn’t buy any. So, I figured I would bring you some.”

In your mind, this was his way of saying he was thinking about you—that’s what you chose to believe anyway.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I wanna see what you think of my baking.” Jungkook’s eyes were bigger than usual behind his specs, he fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

If only he knew, the actual taste of the brownies would hold no significance in your criticism. You would love them anyway simply because they came from him.

“How about we have one together?”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, “let’s go to my room. There’s two windows in there and I’m literally about to pass out from heat stroke out here.”

The two of you sat by each one of the windows, the box of his remaining six hand crafted sweet delicacies sat between the two of you on the nightstand.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“1, 2,” the two of you held the chocolaty dessert up to your mouth, “3.”

Even after just one bite your taste buds were enamored.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing, Jungkook. You’re an amazing baker.”

“You can call me Kookie, you know.”

You nearly choked after taking another bite, hurdling into a coughing spiral, “that’s so fitting. Kookie the pastry chef.”

“Forget I said it,” he shook his head, laughing.

“Wait, no,” you loved the soft tint of pink dusting his cheeks, “that could be the name of your future shop.”

“Kookie’s Cookies.”

“Kookie’s Cookies,” you confirmed, “and I wanna be credited for the idea too.”

“Better yet, you’ll be my business partner.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’ll eat everything and you’ll just end up bankrupt,” your eyes were set on the congested sidewalks outside your window—everyone was out likely catching a break from their scorching apartments but here you were melting away all at the expense of being in Jungkook’s company just for a bit longer.

“I wouldn’t mind as long as you’re with me.”

Those eight words sent your mind into a spiral, head first into the rabbit hole of your fantasies. You couldn’t really make out if he truly meant what you thought he meant.

“Jungkook. .”

“I mean it.”

“Please don’t make me believe there could actually be something here,” Your voice was low and your thoughts were a scribbled mess. There was not a single coherency in your being at that point in time.

“I’m not lying,” your name tasted saccharine on his tinted lips—much like the brownie he had baked for you, “I like you.”

“Jungkook. .” was all you could muster.

“I’ve liked you from the moment you moved into the building.”

A single strike of thunder traveled down your spinal cord, you felt paralyzed in that moment and his sweet sweet words just continued looping inside the walls of your skull.

You were malfunctioning; shocked.

It’s astonishing how oblivious and just plain stupid human nature can make a person. For the past months, you had concealed the schoolgirl crush you developed on Jungkook and convinced yourself that there was absolutely no way in hell he could like you back.

Your insecurities had deceived you and now you sit here after so long with a thumping beat in your heart, giddy with excitement and lowkey wanting to slap yourself for not having noticed earlier.

“You like me?”

Obviously, he just fucking said that. He nodded.

“I like you, too.” You finally said out loud.

The temperature continued to rise in the small bedroom and between the two of you the heat became unbearable. With each passing second, you could feel the streamline trickles of your sweat cascading down your temples; your entire body matter of fact.

If eyes were the windows to the soul then Jungkook’s chocolate gaze was compelling.

And they were calling out for you so loudly.

“What happens now?” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

“Can I kiss you, Jungkook?”

You caught on to Jungkook’s mannerisms and body language rather quickly within the past hour. For example, he was pretty straight forward with his words yet whenever he spoke his fingers fidgeted with a random object as a distraction, this time it was the black beaded bracelet sitting on his wrist.

He nodded yet again.

Your heaven resided in the comfort of Jungkook’s thighs. You realized it the moment you straddled him. The rich smell of sandalwood was a scent unique to him, so earthy and rich. It was the only thing you ever wanted to smell for the remainder of your time on earth.

After raking your hands through his soft hair you tugged at it a bit, guiding his face up towards you.

“If you want anything from me. You’re gonna have to use your words, Jungkook.”

“You know what I want,” his eyes traced the corners of your lips down to the intricate details, “just kiss me, please.”

There are an abundance of perfect scenarios in life. For one there was the idyllic scene of snowfall on Christmas day; the legendary creamy combination of cookies and cream; then, there was the way your lips danced against Jungkooks, composing a choreography so intricate and beautiful only the two of you could execute it.

You were in a haze, entirely stupefied and addicted to his soft and warm lips. Then, his hands snaked around your waist as he guided you back and forth on his lap. His covered erection rubbed against your clothed slit in a pace so slow, it was agonizing yet delectable. Jungkook pulled away, continuing to lead your movements against him. Your mouth remained agape and you couldn’t help the sounds escaping your lips.

You wanted to pinch yourself, you’d only ever dreamt of this. Was this all a fabrication of your dreams? You hope it wasn’t, it felt so good.

“God, I’ve always wanted to have you like this.” His voice was husk and he spoke in between grunts.

If today was dictated as your last day on earth, you’d die being the happiest woman.

His warm breath fanned your sweaty neck. A tickle ran down your back but you focused on the knot forming at your abdomen.

“I’m so close.”

“Let go for me.”

His commands were sweet like candy and the utters of his guidance to have you crumble on his lap were all you needed to send you over the edge.

“You were so good for me, darling.”

“Call me that forever.” Your knees were sore, your voice was hoarse and you were sweltered from head to toe but you craved more, you grew wetter just imagining what else could arise from this encounter.

“Darling?” You nodded. “Jungkook?” He hummed lightly, opening his eyes and lifting his head from where it rested on the wall.

“Are you tired?”

“I just had a long day yesterday.”

“Can I help you unwind?” your lower lip now tucked under your teeth, “can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Your hands tucked under the hemline of his shorts and underwear. The way you illustrated Jungkook in your dreams was close to what you would imagine a modern Greek God to look like and you quickly realized that was the case when his shirt lifted revealing that he should be the one on display in museums instead of those silly little statues.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hand moved up and down the length of his cock. You couldn’t see it, not yet. But he felt so big in your palm.

The hushed moans and curses leaving him fueled you to maintain at the same pace. Your lips found themselves leaving wet kisses on his already dampened neck.

“Please—please don’t stop,” He was a stuttering mess, his hand was gripping the window still so tightly his knuckles turned white. Hypnotized by arousal Jungkook began meeting your movements, enraptured by his desire for release.

“You’re not being a very good boy, Jungkook,” you whispered in his ear, “besides I thought you were tired.”

“I’ll—I’ll be so good I promise,” he continued fucking himself into your hand.

Jungkook whined as soon as you released his cock from your grip. Instead you tucked off the pesky fabrics covering his lower half, with his help of course, your theories were proven to be correct. Jungkook, your hot neighbor with piercings and tattoos also had a pussy destroyer in between his legs because of course he did.

“There’s only two rules baby.”

“What are the rules?”

“You have to keep your hands to yourself and no coming until I say so. You got it?”

“Yes, darling.”

Opening the last drawer on your night stand you pulled out one of your vibrators and held it up for him to see, “is it ok if we use this?”

“Mhm.”

You shoved it in your pocket for later.

Taking him into your mouth, you began swirling your tongue in circular motions around the head of his cock. His labored pants were hushed and almost inaudible, you would’ve missed them if the two of you weren’t in complete silence.

Licking up and down his shaft you focused on pressing your tongue on the tip, as your hands began working, pumping him where your mouth couldn’t reach. You bobbed your head up and down occasionally, allowing the head of his cock pop in and out of your mouth. Slurp noises began invading the atmosphere around the two of you along with his whimpers. Your pace was fast and there were traces of your saliva coating his length entirely.

“Fuck darling,” his hands were reaching to grasp anything in his path but instead he ended up knocking everything off your night stand. “Y-Your lips were made to be around my cock. You know that?”

Jungkook’s praises were treats for your ego and you made sure to devour them in their entirety. He was a pleasant mess; his hair stuck out in all directions while his lips were swollen and vibrant with a scarlet hue as he kept biting down on them harshly. His glasses were slightly fogged and there were traces of saliva sitting on the corner of his mouth. All you wanted was to continue seeing him lose himself at your mercy.

You reached into your pocket and turned on the palm sized stimulator—you placed it against his balls before hitting the on button, setting off its vibrations. His head fell back and his hips buckled forward, causing you to gag around the majority of cock.

“I’m gonna come,” he cried out.

If anyone would’ve told you having Jungkook’s dick in your mouth would be this heavenly, you would live on your knees in front of him forever. Pleasuring him at every hour of every day but today you had different plans and once again he let out frustrated whimpers as you removed your mouth from around him.

“No—no, darling you’re fucking killing me. I need to come now,” he sounded desperate, “It hurts so bad. I need to come.”

“Don’t worry baby. We’re getting right to that,” you placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Did you bring any condoms?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t exactly expecting things to go down this route.”

“Are you. .?”

“I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

There was a timid breeze coming in through the opened window, it was enough to cool you down just a bit, well as cool as you could be without a fan.

Bouncing on Jungkook’s dick was even better than having him in your mouth. Sure, you loved the way he became a stuttering mess with the teasing of your tongue but having him deep inside of you, you felt like you were in your own heaven. On a deserted island somewhere with nothing but the swift breeze coming from the palm trees and his touch on your skin.

“You take me so well,” he whispered in your ear but you were too busy consumed by your own pleasure. Hyper focused on the way his hands dug into your waist; the way he swiftly pushed his cock in and out of you.

The sounds of your skin slapping against his blared through the room, as well as your profanities and his words of praise just as before.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as you felt a build up of tension tightening in the pit of your stomach, causing you to arch your back. Seemingly, the way you clenched around Jungkook he seemed to have noticed you were extremely close.

“Come for me darling,” with each word he buried his dick deeper into you.

It was a blissful paradise painted on the back of your eyelids as Jungkook continued to mold your insides with his dick, he was careful but rammed into you with such force, your voice was strained and you couldn’t hold it any longer. You finally came as sights of the beeming sun behind your closed eyes blinded you entirely.

“Come inside of me,” you managed; even more sweaty than how you began, absolutely tired and completely out of breath.

He chanted strings of your name as finally filled you up.

“Please come over more often and bring all of your brownies with you,” you were pressed up against him as he hugged your waist, placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How about we begin by going to that movie tomorrow?” It was so funny to you how Jungkook had practically just split you in two and now he was back to being soft spoken.

“It’s a date.”

It was now Friday, the power was finally back on around the city and Jungkook followed through on his plans to take you to the movies. The only problem was when you approached the theater you spotted your nosey landlord standing in line right beside Namjoon. “Before you say anything, Seokjin. Please just shut the fuck up.”

“You always think the worse of me,” he placed his hand on his chest, “all I was going to say is my Cupid’s bow is to thank for the two of you finally getting together.”

“In that case, thank you Seokjin,” Jungkook said.

“Don’t thank him.”

“Actually, please do. But the next time yall fuck in my building please keep it down. Just like the walls, the floors are also thin and the fifth floor did not appreciate your day of passion.”

“Seokjin, please go back to your own date,” you hissed, hoping no one else in line heard his little rant, “pretend we’re not here.”

Jungkook’s shame sat in his now red tinted cheeks, you peppered kisses on them to ease him.

“See, they can’t even keep their hands to themselves in public,” you heard Seokjin whisper.

This is going to be an interesting date.

a/n: this was pretty fun to write but supposed to be out on my birthday a couple days ago but i couldn’t meet the deadline sadly but please enjoy and disregard the smut scene if it’s bad. I tried lol my brain just wasn’t working 100%.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

#bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook drabble #very brief mention of seokjin x namjoon #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x you #bts jungkook smut

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pursuitseternal · 6 months

Text

“Anything to Reassure You, My Sweetest…” smutty reassurance for jealousy update to “Bites in the Night” series

Rogue Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K reassuring smut and body worship

Summary: You’ve made it to Baldur’s Gate, but you haven’t two coins to rub together. In a tavern, your Vampire Rogue puts his skills to use, and stokes your jealousy in the process. What it takes to convince you, to reassure you will surely cool your temper and arouse… other feelings.

Cw: Acts 2-3 spoilers, flirty, busty barmaids, jealous feelings, denial of such feelings, very convincing reassurance of undying undead devotion, breaking and entering (technically?), body worship, slight sensory deprivation, cum tasting, adoring nsfw activities

Read on AO3 | read series on AO3 | Masterlist

Come, be convinced…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The tavern is packed, so many pockets that could be picked, so much smoke in the air to cover the scent of rich, roasted foods and fragrant ales.

And you, you sit at a table, pockets bare since you reached Baldur’s Gate. It took every coin you had to secure a place to stay for you all. Now, you each ventured out to find food for yourselves. Each alone, save for you and your vampiric lover, your second shadow.

He is always at your side, especially since reaching the city. Especially since he finally confessed his need for you and his guilt for manipulating you with lust and desire. Since he admitted he wanted something genuine with you, that you were different. Special. But that means something new for you both, something that explores your intimacy in new ways. Ways that limit the physical desire between you. No matter how fierce that desire is for you.

He has been through so much, been denied so much. Even soft things, intimate things, have been twisted for him. And now he needs you more than for your body. You are necessary for his healing, for his own sake, and now he is even closer by your side than when you were… intimate.

But still, for all his closeness physically and emotionally, you fret if there is to be a path for you both forwards.

It gnaws at the back of your mind. Especially in crowded, peopled places like this. His old sort of hunting grounds.

And while he is hunting for your next meal instead of Cazador’s, you chew your lower lip. Only hunting now is picking pockets or convincing someone to buy you something of substance rather than the manipulation and seduction of his delectable body to entice a vampire’s next victim.

His voice cuts through the din to your ear, sharp and quick like one of his daggers. He’s laughing… you lean over to look around some massive Tiefling that’s in your way.

You catch sight of him, leaning over the bar, his teeth flashing bright and wide at the little barmaid as she giggles in response. You scan her, so petitte and busty, and yet you catch a glimpse of her narrow waist as she turns towards the kitchen. Her hair is perfect, soft little curls, washed and brushed until it shines. Your hands start to pick at the stands of your own, washed a day ago… maybe? And you start to brush it with your fingers as if that will fix it.

He’s waiting, frozen with that provocative grin, head cocked mischievously to the side. You suddenly see why, she returns with a plate piled high with roasted meat and steaming potatoes and a large mug of ale. The wench sets it in front of Astarion, his lips moving as he speaks something that makes the girl’s cheeks flame bright pink. Even her little turned up nose turns rosy.

Then, your heart sinks, only to leap to your throat right after. You can’t look away, the pretty little barmaid leaning across the dirty, sticky counter to press a kiss against your love’s cheek.

You watch him make some reply, that smile still frozen on his lips, those brows still canted rakishly. Taking the plate and mug in hand, he comes your way.

And you, your ears are burning and your throat is tight. Jealousy claws inside you, seething as you turn your head, unable to look at him while he sits beside you in the booth, the little round table before you doing nothing to give you distance.

“Here darling,” he croons, setting the food and drink before you alone. “Best eat up and replenish,” he crouches close to you, his lips featherlight against your neck, tickling that sensitive spot behind your ear. “For I cannot feed until you do, you know..”

“Suddenly I’m not hungry,” you mumble, pushing the plate back towards Astarion. Your eyes still fixed on a divet on the table in front of you.

“Darling…” you feel his hand gently turning your chin. Your head responds. Of course it does. You crave his touch with how much you miss it, everyday in agony to be so close to him, no longer indulging in the comfort of your bodies. “What’s the matter?”

You can’t look up, fists clenching in your lap. Tugging your head from his touch, you grumble an unconvincing, “Nothing.” You scooch down the bench, grabbing a fork, deciding it might be better to stuff your mouth instead of having to talk. But before you can lift the pewter fork from the table, he slams his hand down on it.

Damn his stupid rogue reflexes.

Then you look up at him, jealousy burning hot as anger inside your twisting innards. “Let go,” you snap.

“Not until you tell me whatever is the matter,” he teases, his brows furrowing with disapproval.

You pause a moment, that bubble of jealousy ready to burst and fling your hot words of vitriol in his face. But you swallow them back down. “Actually I think I’ll go find Halsin, foraging in the woods sounds far more preferable to this packed tavern.” You huff, “I’m sure you’ll find some company in my absence….”

“I dont think so, darling not until you say what the fuck is going on?” he hisses, a firm hand on your shoulder as you try to stand. “Spit it out, my sweet.”

You take a shaky, deep breath, watching as that pretty thief of a barmaid saunters past your table. Her clear blue eyes scan Astarion beside you, but he doesn’t even notice. His crimson gaze is a pinpoint on you, and you alone; his face is a mix of concern and agitation. It furrows those brows and wrinkles his nose as he stares intensely at you.

“Now,” he whispers, closing the distance between you on the seat, “please tell me whatever is the matter, my love.”

You give a single, breathy disparaging laugh.

“Come on,” he places a single hand over one of your balled up fists. “If I can admit to weeks of attempting to manipulate you and falling in love with you instead, you can admit a bit of jealousy…”

Your eyes dart wide, your mouth hanging open.

“Please, I know every movement of your body, I can feel every twitch and clench of your muscles, every rap of your heartbeat.” He softens a bit, his thumb gently stroking over your clenched hand trying to soften it. “But why you would be so easily piqued by some bar wench is beyond my understanding, darling.”

“She…” you swallow the lump that burns and grates in your throat. “She kissed you.”

“Without invitation, mind you,” he sneered as he glanced back where the offense occurred. “Made my undead skin crawl. But I needed to get you something to eat, so I left the foolish girl alone without so much a thank you…”

“Didn’t look like it from here,” your teeth grit as you talk. “Besides, I can understand, Astarion. She’s beautiful and clean, petite and curved, flouncing hair and puckered lips and rosy cheeks and…”

He silences your mouth with a commanding kiss. “There is only one set of puckered lips mine will ever taste, darling,” he murmurs between the intoxicating workings of his mouth, “yours, my sweet.”

Those fingers dexterously tangle at the back of your neck, sweeping through your locks to brush them back off your shoulders. “You are so beautiful, your skin tanned and scarred from our battles, side by side… your cheeks glowing with the exertion of our adventures…”

He lifts his mouth to look you straight in the eyes, “Your heart beating all the quicker the closer I get, as if you hope I’ll ask you for a bite later…”

“Gods, yes,” you breathe. “If only to make sure you have someone to care for you, Astarion. Whether we are…” you blush and look back at that divet in the table, “…intimate or not…”

“Tch,” he leans in, his eyes wide and soft with adoration. “See what I mean, darling? I would take you over every other being in Faerûn.” His arms wind around your back, hand cupping the curves of your ass to bring you flush against him. “I mean… perhaps I’m warming to the idea of you thinking about me…” he pauses, his face twisting with that rakish smirk, “and I do mean sexually, to be clear.”

You giggle, his light fingers scratch their way up your thigh, tracing little circles through the soft leather that covers your skin.

He breathes right into your ear, honey-sweet words that spike your pulse all the more. “I don’t know if it’s the music and wine in the air, or the way your heart is just violently throbbing with your jealousy, my pet, but right now, finally, I want nothing more than to show you some… reassurance… of my devotion to you.”

“But…” you tease, craning your neck to press you nose against his, “the food…”

“Mmm, you’re not going to want a full belly anyway once we find some privacy and I begin what I’m planning to do to you… Trust me,” he grins those fangs at you, “you’ll feel very… very full.”

Nevertheless, you take a few bites of the hard won offering of food, just enough to sate your growling stomach. A swig of ale to chase it down is all he allows you before he rises so quickly from the table, it scoots across the floor with a screech. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you through the packed crowd towards a hall, the shadows dancing with flickering torchlight. Rooms line the corridor, but all of them are locked.

The moment you are alone, away from deafening voices and judging eyes, he’s on you. That wiry strength of his body cages you against a door. His mouth captures your lips, his own hunger, for blood, for your body, is palpable with every suck of his lips and dive of his tongue. His fangs and teeth catch your lips and steal your breath.

He hungers.

You feel him smiling against your lips, his body, hardened from fighting and lean from his feeding on your blood all along your journey. Hands run up and down your arms, clutching you tightly against him. And then, he laughs, “Why I do think we have found the perfect little nowhere for the right price.” Before his meaning sinks into your lust-clouded mind, he’s crouching, planting little kisses over your clothing as he goes. His lockpick in hand, he works his own brand of magic, face resting on your thigh as the latch clicks, the door swinging open behind you.

“Always so quick to slide your tools into little holes, aren’t you, Astarion?”

He says nothing as he stands, no words needed. Not when he gives you that ravenous smirk, his brows canted so deliciously. Before you can even breathe, he’s scooped you in his arms, carrying you into the darkened room, a swift shove of his hip to shut it firmly behind you both. You can barely see anything, there is no light. No candle or fire in this vacant chamber. Besides, his face is far too close as he consumes you in that commanding kiss of his. Something soft cradles your body as he sets you down, the comforting embrace of a feather bed.

Gods, when had you last been in a bed… it almost makes your body stretch in anticipation more than the way he’s crawled over you in it. Every brush of his body, every angle of his hips and pressure of his knee to spread your legs for him is deliberate. It’s so dark, the room lit only by some tiny window high above the bed, you can just barely make out the edges of his body on top of you, the little curls of his hair around his head that won’t ever be tamed.

No sights to take in, your every sense is heightened, flooded with the feeling of his hands that tug your clothes off your body, overwhelmed by the sound of his panting breaths in your ear, the taste of his tongue in your mouth each time he returns for more and more of your lips.

Before you know it, he’s pulled you up, slipping your shirt off from over your head, his voice purring in your ear. “Now, let’s see… you seemed to think your body inferior to that little wench.” He’s kissing into your ear, the lapping of his tongue deafening you, making your spine spasm with tingles, every nerve now lit on fire and hot with need. “Let’s begin to dispel those silly ideas, my love.”

He lifts from you, in the dark, all you can do is feel that cold weight of his body slipping from you. You whimper alone in the shadowed, strange bed. But you can hear he’s close, his voice softly shushing you, his fingers deftly sliding your breeches from your legs. His touch grazing over your skin now makes you whimper for new, all-consuming reasons.

Especially as you, now completely naked, feel him leaning closer to you, climbing back into the bed as the mattress bends under his weight. Your wimpers become full-throated moans as his hand comes to trace a single finger up your belly.

“Hmmm, I think you find your figure less… arousing,” he whispers, as you find his hands splayed on either side of your head, his knees shifting to straddle you… That’s when you realize it’s his skin now that brushes your flesh.

You feel movement over your belly, hearing the soft brushing of skin on skin, realization dawning as your head lifts and eyes widen to try to see. You can make it out faintly in the shadows, his hand beating slowly over his long, pulsing cock.

Oh, you missed that sight…. It makes you shiver beneath him, where he’s pinned you softly into the bed. “Clearly, we might not see eye to eye on how… arousing you truly are, darling.” His hand finds yours from your side, wrapping them together around his length. “See…” he leans his face into yours, his breath cold, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I think this proves you quite wrong…” you groan as he lays on top of you, your legs parting naturally to let him in, to wrap him tightly between your trembling thighs.

Every part of your body hums with need. At last. After so long. “Need more… convincing?” he purrs into your mouth, that erection now prodding over the top on your mound and pushing into your belly.

“Mmm,” you moan, pressing your own hips up into him, “always…”

“Tch,” he catches your lower lip in his teeth, “greedy little minx. I suppose it is fitting I indulge you. I can rid you of all that nagging doubt, darling…” his lips release yours one more time, trailing little sucks on your neck, your collarbone, your chest, until those full, smirking lips encircle your nipple.

And suck hard.

You mewl, biting your lip hard to keep from screaming.

“The softness of your breasts, the way they harden the moment I touch them, there is nothing like it…” he whispers against your tingling flesh, his mouth dragging with little nips to attend to your other one. Your back arches, your frame shaking to have his mouth on you once more, hands running through those soft, unkempt locks, as if you could trap him against you forever like this.

“More?” he taunts you, giving your nipple one last lingering drag of his teeth.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Convince me more…”

“It would be my pleasure,” he gives you that leer that sets your blood on fire, your innards quickening as his hand reaches back between your legs. The cold press of his fingers parts you, drawing their touch through your molten slick, a little teasing circle on your clit sending your whole body shaking. You raise your hips, wanting so much more, but his touch slips away.

Only to have him slide those drenched fingers between his own smiling, pouting lips. “Mmm,” he growls, “delicious…” He crooks his brows as you watch, so engrossed with the way his lips purse around the slight thrust of his fingers into his mouth. Then, he chuckles, low and deep, “Would you like a taste of just how divine you are?”

You give him half a smile, opening your mouth to let your tongue slide out, eager and anticipating.

Those fingers dive right back into your soaked cunt, crooking deep inside your channel as you squirm to feel so filled once more. You close your eyes as his hand withdraws, the salty tang of your own arousal brushing your waiting tongue. Your lover groans over you as you close your mouth, warm and wet, around his fingers. Fingers he slowly strokes between your lips.

“You are so perfect, every time…” he whispers, his throat thick with his need as his voice grates in your ear.

As his fingers disappear, your breath stops, drawn from your lungs by his devouring kiss. “I’m beginning to feel reassured,” you pant, your hands running over those ridges of scarring on his back, almost as familiar to you as your own marks and scars from battle.

“You had better. You are my only one, darling,” he growls against the pillowy flesh of your breasts, raising his head to look you straight in the eyes. His crimson gaze intense, filled with that glint of possessiveness, softened slightly by the dependence that brims from their depths. “And I’ll fuck every bit of your doubt from you, my sweet.”

“Please,” you beg, sighing to feel that thick, blunt, beautiful head of his cock pressing into you slowly. Your body squirms, stretching around him, taking him deeper as you try to relax. You pant, hands riding the little clenching thrusts of his ass as he gently works his way further into you.

And you moan, stretching like you’re a virgin all over again. Fitting him into your deepest recesses. Your legs raise, gripping around his narrow, lean waist. His mouth whispering his praises over your tongue as they tangle together. “Yes, darling, you’re so good,” he’s groaning, his hips thrusting and swiveling oh so slowly. Lovingly. “My one, my only…”

Your words fail. Only little breaths and sighs and noises left as your mind is swept away. Nothing more than the way your bodies are joined at last. It’s wave after wave of pleasure up your spine as he takes his time, as he meticulously plunders you. You buck, riding each thrilling drag of his cock inside you. His arms weave around your shoulders, embracing you, pulling you so every inch of your body is drawn hard against his, your yielding curves flattened, pressed and confined against him, all lean and hard and brawny as he is.

At last words tingle on your tongue. “You’re mine too, my one…” you finally pant, your voice harsh as your pleasure begins to crest, to crash through you to take control of your every nerve and every sense.

Your words, they trigger something inside him, suddenly that slow rhythm of love-making turns sharper. He’s demanding and pulsing, his thrusts harder, faster. You feel his nails clawing into the skin of your back, his breathing growing ragged and hissing between his clenched teeth.

On the cusp of control, he’s barely bridled, fangs grinding as he chases his climax, pushing you hard into yours. You shatter, shivering and clenching around his cock, his length hammering hard to fill you to bursting even as you can’t take any more of him inside. Your hand flies to cover your screams, your arousal squirting around him, soaking your thighs, his cock, even as you feel him spewing his seed to mix with your juices. Groan after groan through his firmly shut mouth, and he finally stills inside you, over you. One last breathless kiss on your lips, and he rests his head next to yours. His pants tickle right in your ear.

“That…” you whisper, turning your face to plant a kiss against the two little scars on his neck, “was….” you run out of words, too many flooding your brain to pick just one. So, you brace your hands on either side of his face, lifting it to bring his mouth to yours, one more time.

“Anything to reassure you, my sweetest,” he whispers, returning your kiss gently, tenderly, on the damp of your forehead.

621 notes · View notes

potlattice · 5 months

Text

Get My Shit Together

Rafe Cameron x Reader

It was positive.

You sighed and handed it over. It was the fifth test you'd taken, but he wanted to see for himself. Rafe wanted to watch as it changed, just to be sure it was true.

And when it was confirmed you were pregnant, he snapped it in half.

"Fuck."

You nodded solemnly in agreement.

You'd had more time to process the heavy news and allowed him a few minutes to himself as he cradled his head in his hands, the broken pregnancy test laying in pieces at his feet.

The both of you had met at a party a few months ago through mutual friends. You didn't hit it off right away, in fact you argued most the night.

But after he pulled out a bag full of pills, you'd stuck to his side like glue.

And you rarely separated since.

However, Rafe was on the verge of getting kicked out due to a growing drug problem, and you were over the party scene at college by now. In fact, the two of you were anticipating going your separate ways very soon.

You were both just waiting for something to give.

And then you missed a period.

And everything suddenly became undeniable and permanent.

Two words you hated.

"So, uh, you're not gonna like..., keep it, are you?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know yet."

"W-what do you mean you don't know?" He scoffed, standing to his feet hurriedly. He began pacing the room. "I can't be a dad! I don't know what to do with a baby. Do you?"

You looked away from him. "No...I guess not."

He wiped a hand over his face and huffed. "Right. So that settles it."

"-But that doesn't mean I know what I want to do yet." You reasoned.

"For fuck sake!" Rafe cursed and kicked your dresser.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"I'm about to get kicked out. My grades are shit, my attendance is fucked and I don't care to fix that." He told you honestly. "So do what you want, but I won't be here."

You watched silently as he took his jacket off the hook and left without a second glance back.

5 HOURS LATER

You put your phone down as an insistent knocking at the door sounded. It was nearly midnight and you hadn't moved from the bed since Rafe left.

You'd simply tucked yourself under the covers, ignored the broken test on the floor and scrolled through your phone aimlessly. It was hard to want to do anything.

Shuffling to the door, you sighed at the sorry sight that greeted you through the peep hole.

You unlocked the door and stepped back as Rafe wasted no time falling through. He was a little unsteady on his feet and you allowed him to grasp your shoulders for support.

He carried the scent of beer and cigarettes into your dorm and you led him to your bed.

He was mumbling incoherent words and you handed him a bottle of water but he pushed it away.

"You hate me-"

"No I don't." You shook your head with a frown and sat beside him but he sniffed and nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah, yeah, you do. Everyone does." He shrugged his shoulders and sniffed again.

You thought it was because of the coke, but you realised he had tears in his eyes. And they weren't red from weed. He'd been crying.

"I'm not on anything." He admitted as he noticed you scanning his face. "Just a few beers."

You knew it was more than a few, but you were surprised he wasn't on any drugs.

"S'not like you." You admitted lightheartedly, not knowing what else to say.

In the short time you'd known him, either he'd be on drugs, both of you would, or you'd be having sex. Sometimes after taking drugs together.

With that thought, you felt disheartened. You wouldn't make good parents. What was love without stability or affection?

Things you and Rafe lacked.

"I'm gonna get better." He said quietly and you lifted your head at the declaration. "I-I'm gonna get my shit together." He put his hand on his chest earnestly.

"For both of you."

Your chest tightened and you felt yourself drawn to him. You lay your head on his arm, accepting the heat from his body and he immediately moved to lay that arm around you, pulling your closer.

He'd always gladly accepted any intimacy between you, even though you were always more hesitant to give and receive it.

But right now, you basked in the comfort it provided.

You didn't know what you were going to do.

You just knew you were glad you were here with Rafe. For all his faults, he was there for you.

It meant everything to you.

...i have no idea what i'm doing

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #obx

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Meeting & Flirting W/ The C.o.D Men✦

(Five scenes were gn!reader meets, flirts, and eventually gets with the C.o.D guys. You can thank Gaz & a Doja Cat song for this)

✧Gaz, Price, Soap, & Ghost. The others will come later✧ ✦Flirting, light sexual tension here and there, basically just fluff, some mild descriptions of wounds/war, no specified appearance but I do hint that you're shorter than the guys here and there in a subtle manner. Sporadic use of Y/N that I apologize for. Random callsigns I made up on the spot.✦

✧Kyle "Gaz" Garrick✧

Laswell walked beside Price whilst leading the team out onto some tarmac. "I know you all are very competent, but this is a rather big mission, and so I wanted to give you backup I think you can depend on." She said calmly, coming to a stop, turning to the four men. Ghost crossed his arms and bit back a scoff. Kyle smiled for a split second because of it, though shrouded in mystery, it was no secret that Ghost hated working with others. A black jeep rolled up from a slight distance. Gaz wasn't too interested, he'd been tired all day and meeting new people sounded like a bit of a pain. He adjusted the hat on his head and kept his gaze on the ground, even when some footsteps approached. He glanced up at least, not paying any particular attention to the five individuals in front of him. Though he did give his full attention to Laswell when she began speaking. "Team 141, this is Team Sonar. They'll be working with you this upcoming mission, which we still need to go over." The woman explained. Their captain shook hands with price, an older man with dark hair and a broad white streak in the front. Two younger men stood to the side, Soap greeted them. One was blond and the other, a light brunette, they looked like twins. The fourth one was fairly androgynous, tall, eyes cast at the ground. Gaz was just about to look back at Laswell when his eyes fell on the last member. Dressed in black military gear, holding a rifle aimed at the ground, vest decorated in patches and a filtration-gas mask over the lower half of their face. They looked up and locked with his gaze, a spark let off in the air as soon as they did. Gaz rolled back his shoulders, pinching the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He watched their eyes scan him up, down, then slowly back up. By the way their eyes scrunched slightly, he could assume they were smiling, giving him one more quick once over. It was hard not to smile as well, especially when their eyes stuck to him whilst turning to face their captains. "Careful sergeant." Ghost's deep voice made Gaz jump. "Ahem, right." He mumbled, shifting his hat down a bit. Though he did risk stealing one more glance, feeling an ego boost when he caught them doing the same.

"You ever take that hat off?" They asked, leaning on the common room's table as he sat down, arms crossed. "I do, I just don't feel like it." Gaz shrugged, adjusting the ratty baseball cap on his head. "The flag is literally fallin' off, mate." They teased with a smile, reaching to nudge the brim, making it push down. Gaz snorted and took it off for a split second to fix it. He gasped when it was snatched from his hand, smiling when he saw their face covered in a cheeky grin, holding the hat away. "Alright, c'mon. Give it back." He insisted, holding out his hand. They hummed, tapping their chin whilst looking at the ceiling. "Nnnoo, no I don't think so." They replied with their tongue stuck out. Gaz tucked his tongue into his cheek and glared at them playfully. He laughed when they jerked back as he lunged for it, smiling more when they hid it behind their back. "Oh, playing dirty now?" Gaz asked, moving to snatch it once more, only to be dodged. "I think you look better without it, actually. I'm doing you a favor." They insisted, backing up more and more. He naturally followed. They reached up to put it on, chin tilted at an endearing angle. "Should just lemme have it." Gaz shook his head, although he did enjoy the sight of them wearing it. "Over my dead body, give it!" He laughed. They blocked his arm when he went to grab it one last time, reaching into the back pocket of their camo pants. Good thing about military pants? Big pockets. Gaz blinked in surprise when he felt a pressure on his skull, raising a hand to feel a different hat. He quickly took it off and looked at it. A baseball cap with a British flag and an embroidered "K.G.G" on the brim, in a dark green color. He gazed at it with some awe, feeling a quick wave of sentimental joy enter his system. "I think green is more your color." They said, prompting him to look at. He blinked when they booped him on the nose and then turned to walk away. "Hey, what about my original hat?!" Gaz called. They turned, walking backwards. "It's mine now! No take-backsies!!" They giggled, rotating on their heel. The man ran his tongue over his teeth as he chuckled in disbelief. He glanced once more at the hat before putting it on, shaking his head fondly.

(nsfw implication in this one; cause Y/N a bold bitch) Gaz hummed to the tune of his music as he sat on one of the chairs in the common room, waiting for time to pass until their next briefing. Listening to Y/N make themselves tea, occasionally passing conversation between them both. The topic now? Why he never used his actual name. "I guess I just don't really get it. It's not like it's a bad name." They said, pouring hot water into a mug. Gaz shrugged whilst scrolling through a playlist. "I used to like it, now I don't. A lot of people don't like their name." He answered, glancing over at them. They placed a teabag into the water and turned to look at him, hip leaned on the counter. "Yeah, I guess. But usually there's a reason if you specifically dislike it, ya know?" They retorted. Gaz nodded and adjusted in his seat. "I guess...I dunno, anytime I hear that name, it usually means somethings going wrong? Either someone's needing something from me or I'm like, in trouble? So, I prefer the nickname." He explained, looking back down at his phone whilst they threw away the tea bag. "Then it's not the name, it's what you associate hearing the name with! You just need to put a different context to it." They said, though their voice was a bit muffled by his earbuds now. He snorted. "Oh yeah? Well, lemme know if you got any ideas." He said sarcastically, not hearing them walk closer. "Let's try this then." Gaz jumped a bit when the earbud was pulled from his ear, replaced with the feeling of warm breath. Hot blood rose to Gaz's cheeks and neck as the cupped their hand around his ear. "Oh Kyle...~" His breath stopped at the sound of a very convincing moan, heart stuttering as they laughed quietly, gently putting the earbud back in his ear. They made it a point to lightly drag their fingers across his shoulders when walking around him. Gaz watched them walk away with wide eyes until they were out of sight. He then sunk in his seat, hand covering the lower half of his burning face. He forced in a deep breath. "Fuckin' hell..." He mumbled while replaying the sound in his brain. They at least had a point. Hearing his name like that was pretty enjoyable.

"Gaz, Spark, how copy?" Gaz's radio crackled, Ghost's voice cutting in and out. "Copy sir, we're in a safe house. Hell of a storm outside, we'll need to wait it out." He said. Y/N was checking the pipes and looking around for firewood as Ghost gave choppy orders. The man huffed and took off his vest when he saw the fire being lit, grabbing a rickety wooden chair to pull up next to it. "Fuckin' snow." He grumbled as he heard the wind bare down on the house. "Not a winter guy?" They asked, making him look over his shoulder as they walked in with two cups. "Found coffee. I know you're more of a tea type, but warm is warm." They responded softly. He thanked them and took the cup, though he cringed at the bitter taste, swallowing so he could answer their question. "Nah, always liked Summer more." They nodded before setting their mug on the floor. "So, we're alone for god knows how many hours." They said, looking at a tactical watch on their wrist. Gaz rose an eyebrow while taking another sip of his coffee. "Yeah? What of it?" He asked. "You gonna finally make a move or should I keep pretending there's no tension here?" Their blunt words made him choke and began coughing. They laughed and lightly smacked his back, snickering when he cleared his throat. "I uh, wow, okay. Bit blunt to put it that way, innit?" He said with a breathless laugh, putting the cup down. "Bit rude to eye fuck me all the time and do nothin' about it, innit?" They mocked with a grin, making him blush, though thankfully the melanin in his skin left it unnoticeable. "Okay, I do not...alright, maybe a little, but listen." He laughed bashfully. He watched them roll their eyes with a heavy sigh, looking down at him with a smile. "What? Do I have to do everything?" He rose his hands up and sank in the seat slightly as they placed their hands on his knees, leaning in slowly. "Didn't take you for such a scaredy cat, sergeant.~" Gaz cleared his throat and couldn't stop himself from laughing nervously again. "I'm not a scaredy cat. I'm just...patient." "Patient?" "Yes, indeed." They hummed and clicked their tongue. "Well, I'm not." Gaz felt his lungs constrict and the air expel from his body once their weight rested on his lap, hands on the back of the chair, which creaked under their combined weight. He watched them take his hat off and rest it on their head. "So, sergeant major Gaz. You gonna make a move, or should I?" They asked quietly. He let out a slow exhaled before shaking his head. "You...are gonna get me in so much trouble." He said fondly, though he did invite them leaning in dangerously close. "Guess that's a risk you gotta take." They whispered back. He hummed in thought, stalling for the sake of mischievousness now. "Eh, only live once." He shrugged, grinning as they laughed, unable to stop smiling when the held his face to kiss him. Trouble or not, it was inevitable.

✧John Price✧

John sighed and messed with his dog tags as he waited of Laswell to come back into the room. She’d said she had something important to tell him. She finally poked her head into his office with a calm smile, giving him a nod. “A few weeks ago, you asked for a sniper. I found one I think is suitable.” She said, opening the door a bit further to reveal them. Stood in a compression shirt and camp pants, arms behind their back. John straightened his back as he took their figure in, acknowledging slightly nervous body language. They seemed young, but not by much compared to the rest of the team. “Alright. Lemme talk to’em.” John mumbled, motioning with his hand for the soldier to step inside. Laswell patted their shoulder as they entered, crossing the office to sit in the chair across from Price. Laswell left with the door closed. “You’re nervous, soldier.” He said. They swallowed and nodded, patting their leg. “A little sir, yes. Trying not to be.” They answered honestly with a little chuckle. “You afraid your skills aren’t up to snuff?” He questioned, voice gruff, trying to poke for insecurities. Not that he was cruel, but he needed soldiers made of steel on the field. “Oh, no. I’m 100% confident in my skills. It’s uh, just hard to not feel anxious when you’re sat in front of a captain with such an impressive resume. I’m uh, well, I’m worried about my impression is all.” They admitted bashfully, clenching their hands in their lap. John rose an eyebrow and let out an amused huff at their praise. “You’re certain you’ll keep up?” He asked. “Yes sir.” They answered immediately. John nodded, he motioned for them to stand as he did the same. They listened without hesitation. He rounded his desk and stood in front of them, watching them force back nerves in order to meet his gaze. He held out his hand. “I‘ll look forward to seeing you work, soldier.” He said. His smile grew when they shook his hand, a spark growing in their eyes. “You won’t be disappointed, sir.”

John huffed and rubbed his temple, soreness radiating through his skull as a result of persistent annoyance. He'd been put in charge of some new recruits, a batch of youngsters, all of which seemed to enjoy testing his patience. They all liked to slack off, lose focus, occasionally take a little jab at him. John was a patient man and did his best to keep his cool, usually only losing it in dire circumstances. But, he was a human, and humans had their limits, and the captain was at the end of his rope as he watched the recruits joke around. All right after he specifically told them to run laps, a standard training exercise. His frustration must've been obvious on his face, hence why Mist approached him. "You alright, captain? You look ready to blow a gasket." They asked, voice soft, showing sympathy. The brunet huffed and rested his hand on his hip, feeling a bit soothed by the gentle pat on his bicep. "These damn kids won't take me seriously, and I've bout had it." He explained, motioning to the group. The soldier's eyes widened and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Unable to fathom it. They weren't much older than the newbies, and they'd already shown a genuine and powerful admiration for John. For various reasons. John watched them frown and shake their head. "Try again." They motioned, giving an encouraging nod. John was a bit confused but he cleared his throat and shouted to get their attention. "I said to run laps, not stand chit-chatting! Move it!" He demanded, voice rough and commanding, but not as intense was it was in the heat of battle. Y/N's blood boiled at the blatantly disrespectful laugh one recruit let out. "Whatever, old man!" A young man replied. John felt his jaw tighten and he took in a breath to yell again, on his last nerve, before a voice beside him beat him to it. "WATCH YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH!" Mist exclaimed, voice echoing in the air like flying daggers. They'd been rather soft, quiet, and gentle the whole time they were with 141. Excluding battle. To see them so angry, so intense, it was enough to make John even jolt in surprise. "When your commanding officer gives you an order, you execute it on the first fucking demand! He said run, you sprint damnit! If you think you can dick around at the sake of the training that will save your life and the lives of your comrades, FUCK OFF BACK HOME!" They hissed, baring teeth like a raging dog. "Now, move it! Forty fucking laps at least and if I hear more disrespect at my captain, I'll have your fuckin' heads!" The recruits had already began on the track, wincing when the threat landed in their ears. John watched Mist compose themself with a look of shock interlaced with endearment. They gave him a bashful glance and cleared their throat. "Uhm...there ya go." They smiled. John let out a quiet chuckle and patted their back. "Remind me to stay on your good side." He said playfully.

(Brief description of bullet wound & war) The sounds of gunfire were sharp on the ear drums. Air permeated with the scent of rubble dust & metallic blood. Mist jumped over an enemy corpse as they dodged around a building, clicking the button on their radio in order to answer their captain. "This is Mist! Ran off about six yards east, where are you, cap?" They asked, chest heaving. "Three yards to your right! Haul ass before these cunts reload!" It was probably a terrible time to think it, but they couldn't help but worry about his throat, all those cigars surely made his voice rougher than it was naturally. That thought was pushed back by the need of survival, although their worry was barely focused on themselves, more on the safety of their captain. They found him settled behind some large stacked crates, littered with bullet holes. Taking no time to slide up beside him, huffing and puffing, face smeared with paint & dirt. "Are you steady, Cap?" They asked breathlessly. John nodded, adjusting his bucket cap. "For now. We gotta move out toward the evac, Soap's got this place set to blow and I wanna be out before it happens." He explained whilst loading a rifle. "Understood, I'll cover you." They replied. Whilst sprinting away from the enemy, ducking when the gunfire got heavy, their barriers were thinning. John huffed and pushed through, scanning for the next thing they could duck behind. As he did, he was left open. The young soldier's eyes locked in on a sniper overhead, gun angled directly at the man beside them. The world moved slow and frightfully quick all at once as they shoved John off to the side whilst shouting for him to take cover. The bullet spun through the air and made itself home in Mist's leg. John was quick to act, able to aim his rifle up at the roof, landing a rather lucky headshot in retaliation. "Damnit, soldier, what the hell were you thinkin'?!" He exclaimed, using his arm to help them stand. They didn't respond, teeth gritted in pain as the two of them continued to move. Making it to the evac wasn't easy, but it happened. The team left like a bat out of hell, holding up with shotty attempts at first-aid until they could get to a medic. John put Y/N on priority for one since the bullet was lodged in their thigh, risking a problem with an artery or bone. Thankfully though, it was just a muscle issue. They'd need recovery time and rest, but overall, they'd be fine. Likely to only sport a scar by the end of it. They sat on a medical bed as John heard the verdict, eventually waving off the doctor so he could speak with them alone. "What the hell were you thinking?" John whispered harshly. Though Mist was the more sensitive type, they didn't flinch, not a single waver as they met his gaze. "Thinking about saving your life." They answered. "And you got shot cause of it." John replied, making them snort. "I can handle a shot to the leg. Far less damage than losing you. In terms of pros & cons? I think I weighed'em pretty well." John felt his chest constrict as they gave him a satisfied smile, as if they weren't still covered in the signs of war. He opened his mouth and no words came out, he gave up and sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He stared at them for a moment. Eventually, his hand fell limp at his side, chuckling quietly. "You'll be the death of me, soldier." He said. They laughed and shrugged. "Nah, I think I'll keep you alive for awhile longer. That's my plan anyway." Their retort played like music in the strings of his neurons, sending waves of serotonin & oxytocin in his system. "I'll hold you to that." He sighed.

(NPC death mentions) The sound of paper rustlings and the scratch of a pen was monotonous and soul sucking. John had always been a diligent worker, but, he'd never enjoyed paper work. It was something he found particularly boring even as he got older, and there was always an air of somberness when he was filling out reports on men who'd died. Lost their lives under his command. In the late hours of the night where silence was suffocating and the loneliness began to grow more obvious in his bones, continuously marking his signature down on dotted lines until his wrists were sore. His throat was dry and his eyes stung. There was a bottle of whiskey on a side table calling his name, but he didn't have the energy to move, and he knew it wouldn't satisfy any actual thirst. The sigh he let out was full of exhaustion. Then, he flinched, silence broken by a knock at the door. The brunet's brows furrowed in confusion & suspicion, given lights out was at least two hours ago. "Who is it?" He called after clearing his throat. "It's me." The voice was unmistakable, and though he hated to admit it, his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Enter." He instructed, finding it worrisome how it felt easier to breathe when their figure poked through the door, entering slowly. A cup of steaming tea rested in their hands. "You should be asleep, soldier." John said, leaning back in his seat. They gave a soft laugh and a nod, walking up to his desk. "Couldn't. Kept thinkin' bout you, knowing you were overworking yourself. Finally gave in and made you a cup of tea. With all due respect, sir, you should also be in bed." They answered, setting the cup on the desk. Like a godsend, able to sense his unspoken needs from across the base. He was a providing type, protective too, he'd been called a "dad" type as well, always caring for others. Although being cared for was foreign, he couldn't help but have his heart melt in a way he hadn't really felt in a very long time. The man sighed, grabbing the cup, blowing on it before he took a sip. He could feel his soul grow warm as he realized it was a perfect replica of how he'd make it, ideal to his preferences. It was impossible not to smile. "You're a real saint, you know that?" He asked. The room felt brighter as they laughed again. "I'm not sure about that, but thank you." They replied. "I mean it. You stick out your neck to make things easier for me, even when I don't ask. I notice it, even if I'd prefer you keep a bullet out of your leg." He scolded lightly, making them nervously shift their gaze to the side, recalling the shot they'd taken for him. "Eh, I don't really regret it." They said, moving around his desk in order to sit on the same side as him, remaining on the corner of the wooden table, careful to avoid sitting on any of the papers. John shook his head. "I'd probably take another eighty bullets for you." They answered honestly, ignoring the stutter in their heartbeat as he stood, chair scraping on the rug below. "Now why would you do that?" He questioned cynically. The response he got struck every chord in his heart. "Because I care about you too much to see you get hurt." They whispered. "You're such a good person, and you do so much for everyone else, even when you're at the end of your rope. There really aren't people like that in the world, and I don't think I could really handle losing something so rare." John inhaled and stepped in front of them. He was intently in their personal space, but they didn't feel the need to lean away, even if their nerves were alight with a specific type of anxiety as he tilted their chin with his hand. He didn't say anything for a long while, only gazing, adoringly and intensely full of passion. Finally, he smiled with an amused breath. "I think I hit the nail on the head..." He heard their breath catch when he leaned close enough for his facial hair to lightly prick at their skin. "You're nothin' short of a saint, sweetheart."

✧Johnny "Soap" MacTavish✧

The bar was crowded and rowdy, dimly lit and teeming with energy. 141 settled in a booth. The bar was popular with veterans and active soldiers, so there wasn't a corner of the building that didn't have some camo print in it. Johnny chuckled at a joke Gaz made at the expense of a recently defeated enemy before taking a swing of beer. He scanned the bar lazily. At the same time as others, cerulean eyes settled on a small scene in the crowd. Kyle leaned around Soap to get a better visual. "Yeesh, can't a man take a hint?" The man mumbled as they watched a tipsy soldier flirt with, what seemed like, a civilian. Dressed up for a night of fun but clearly not having a good time with a slurring and pushy man not being able to take a no. "Think we should step in?" Soap questioned, to which Ghost rose his hand, a signal to stay seated. "Look at their friends, they look like they're waiting for somethin'. Maybe they've got it covered already." He mumbled past the fabric of his balaclava. Johnny cringed, scrunching his nose at the scene, biting his tongue, literally. "They're a civilian against a trained soldier. Drunk or not, they probably need some help." Kyle commented. It was immediately after he finished his sentence that the "civilian" set their drink down, face showing annoyance. They turned to the drunkard and in quick, trained movements, took him out. Or in less intense terms, knocked him out cold with a swift elbow to the chest and a well formed punch to the jaw. The bar went quiet after a collective "oooohhh" in response to it all. The "civilian huffed and rested their hands on their hips, shaking their head. Soap's jaw was lax as he watched them walk over to the bar, pay, and leave. Left in utter awe intermingled with disappointment that he hadn't had a chance to talk to them. Up until a week later when a higher up declared he'd be gifting a lieutenant with an impressive track record to aid the task force in a mission. A huge help, since apparently they had specialized information. The four men waited for the mystery person right outside of base. When they walked up, they had a mask on, but a collective string of shock hit the men when they came closer. Gaz let out a little laugh and nudged Soap with his elbow. "Looks like you get to talk to them after all." He teased, watching Johnny fight to keep his jaw closed. They stopped in front of him with their arms crossed and face stern. "You lot must be 141. Lieutenant Fern." They said. Price stepped up calmly to introduce the team. Johnny cut him off, practically leaping forward with his hand extended to greet them. "Sergeant Soap, pleasure to meet'cha Lieutenant." He said with a boyish grin. They tilted their head with a raised eyebrow. "You always this excitable, sergeant?" They asked. Johnny's eyes glimmered with childlike fascination and liveliness. "Only with beauties like ya'self." He said boldly. They scoffed with some amusement, shaking his hand as they glanced at an embarrassed Price. "Bold, this one." They praised.

Soap grunted and slammed his hand on the floor twice, letting out a strained word. He took a deep breath when the pressure let off his neck, hearing a few tongue clicks. "That's the third take down, Soap. You gotta stop leaving yourself open." Fern sighed, giving him a hand up. He rubbed his neck and coughed, frustrated at himself for letting his performance slip. It was showing on his face and in his shoulders, weighing down by the sense of failure. "Oi, suds, quit that." They ordered, making him look up with confusion. They made a vague motion to his person, referring to his posture, before resting their hands on their hips. "The self-doubt and anger at yourself. It ain't gonna help ya. You're not bad at what you do, you're learning still. That's normal." They explained. Though their tone sounded blunt and rough, as usual, Johnny had been around them enough now to hear the hint of softness that lingered in their words. Something he had yet to hear before. He huffed and dropped his hand at his side. "I shouldn't be havin' these fuck ups, L.T. I been doin' this for too many years for fuck ups." Johnny let out a yelp and a whine as he received a flick to the bridge of his nose. "'nough of that, sergeant. What'd I just say?" Fern demanded with their gaze sharpened. They poked his chest to keep his attention. "You listen here, and you listen good because I won't be repeating myself. You're smart, and you're good at what you do. Fuck ups happen no matter how long you've been doin' something. You ain't perfect and I ain't expecting you to be. I expect you to be observant and open minded." They stated. Johnny's face softened and so did their tone. Fern sighed and shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up over shit that's fixable or that you can't control. Doing that won't help you, it'll just make you feel like shit. Enough of that will turn you into a stick in the mud." Their hand smacked on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. Soap felt his heart squeeze when they gave him a rare and small smile. "And I like you as the puppy dog you are, alright, soldier?" Johnny blinked before he snorted and nodded, taking their words to heart. "Good man. Now, c'mon. Let's go again. I'll go slower and correct your form and we'll get those slip ups worked out. On your mark." They ordered, gentler this time. Soap got into position with a grin and determination lit aflame once more. "On it, Lieutenant. Hit me." He challenged, burning with joy when they gave a fond chuckle.

Music and commotion filled the air with noise, adding a backdrop to a conversation that flooded in and out. Soap threw back some whiskey and cringed as it hit his taste buds. He coughed and set the cup down, shaking his head whilst the person across from him chuckled. "Not a whiskey type, suds?" They teased. He shook his head and slid the cup over, letting them take it and refill it. "I'll stick to my beer, thanks." Johnny replied with a huff. He pushed down the warmth in his face he got from watching them drink out of the same glass, mouth placed over where he'd just pressed his lips. Unintentional, most likely. He felt ridiculous being flustered over such a school-yard level of intimacy, and indirect kiss from sharing a glass was juvenile. He looked over their face, eyes settling on the signs of exhaustion in their expression. The Scotsman frowned and tapped the table a few times before he gave into his thoughts. "You ain't been sleeping, 'ave ya?" He asked. They looked up from following the patters of paint in the wall beside the two of them. Their silence was answer enough but the fact they shook their head sealed the deal. "Mind if I pry?" Soap asked, leaning in a bit more on his elbows. Fern shrugged and sank in their seat a bit, sighing. They rubbed their eye before regaining eye contact. "Different reasons. Old demons, mostly." They muttered. Johnny's brows dipped in sympathy. "You got a way of dealin' wit' that? Therapist?" He asked, sadness bubbling in his chest as they gave a humorless laugh and headshake. "Nah, I ain't gonna put my shit in someone else's hands. It's my problems, I should be able to deal with'em-" "Now that's a loada shit, L.T." Soap's voice cutting them off caught them by surprise. Johnny was a bold man, a loud man too, but he knew respect and knew when he needed to bite his tongue. He'd never really given an outburst at them. "Ain't you the one always tellin' me an' the team to speak up when we're in trouble?" He asked. They opened their mouth and shut it, unable to formulate a response. Their eyes softened when he reached over and rested his hand on top of their own. "Don't hesitate to ask for help. When you're out your depth, holdin' you pride too tight will get'cha killed. That's what you said." Fern blinked before a sad smile crossed their face. "Yeah...I did say that." They nodded, heart clenching as Johnny gave their hand a squeeze. "Then take your own advice, Y/N. Don't'cha owe yourself that?" He asked in a hushed tone. They bit the inside of their cheek and took his words to heart, nodding slowly with a slow exhale. "You're right. I'll keep that in mind...thank you, Johnny." They replied. He gave that sunshine filled grin in reply. "Ain't gotta thank me for that, L.T. But, you can buy me a drink if you wanna show your gratitude." He joked, feeling proud when it got them to laugh. "How's a tequila sound?" They asked. "After my 'eart, you are! I'll take three." Johnny responded with a grin.

(Implied wound) Soap grunted and leaned against a wall whilst holding his side. Pain shot through his nervous system with every movement. He huffed and thumped his head against the brick. His skin was growing clammy and moving his head too fast lead to his vision blurring, the dizziness was something that always got him the worst. He'd never been good with the sensation. It always felt him nauseous. The brunet groaned past gritted teeth as he tried to force himself to focus, will his brain to work despite the myriad of overloaded senses. His radio crackled with sound and a voice that was choppy thanks to the slightly cracked speaker. He let out a huff and rose his arm to click the button whilst trying to focus on the words, spoken by a familiar voice. "Soap? Soap, do you copy? C'mon mate, don't leave me hanging here." Fern asked with a hint of worry. The man grunted and that alone let the lieutenant take a sigh of relief. "You broken, serge?" They asked. Johnny swallowed in order to clear his throat. "Cracked, L.T. Took a hit to the side. Not sure of the damage but I ain't doin' so hot." He wheezed. Speaking brought on a coughing fit. He barely heard the order to stay put as his ears rung from the pain coughing caused. His vision was going spotty by the time he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. In his half focused state, he weakly tried to reach for his gun, only for a gloved hand to stop his arm. "It's me, Johnny." Fern's voice brought him a sense of relief. He leaned his head back to look at them, giving a weak smile. "'ey there, beautiful." He said, coughing again, which was followed by what could only be described as a whimper. Fern frowned as they checked his wound, using one hand to keep him steady. "Shit, Johnny. We need to get you to the evac right now. Can you stand?" They asked. He shook his head, slumping on their shoulder. He sighed, soothed by their body heat. "Just go on...I had a pretty good r-FUCKIN' CHRIST!" He screeched as they applied pressure to his wound. His face was grabbed sternly, forcing him to look them in the eye. Shock flooded his system as he saw saltwater building along their lower lid. "You listen here, you bloody fuckin' moron. You ain't allowed to die on me. Not until I fuckin' say so." They hissed. Soap blinked and opened his mouth to speak, letting out a noise of surprise when their lips collided with his. He let out a shaky breath whilst leaned into them, hand clutching a strap on their vest. Left tingling and energized by the action as they pulled away. "You pull all that fightin' spirit back in your fuckin' body and fight for me. Then, we get you out of here, we get you fixed up, and you owe me a fuckin' date. You got me, loverboy?" They demanded. The Scotsman heaved some breaths before he nodded. "I got'cha." He replied. Fern gave a single nod and stood up, pulling up the weakened soldier, getting under his arm to keep him steady. "Atta boy. Keep your head up, Johnny. I need you to keep your word." They said as they began helping him move. He gave a weak chuckled and a wheeze. "Roger that, L.T. Roger that."

✧Simon "Ghost" Riley✧

(Brief description of an NPC gettin' knifed in the face) The stairs creaked under Ghost's weight as he moved up behind Price. The man made a hand motion to move up more, which Ghost followed. "Stay steady, boys. Remember, not everyone in this place is a hostile." Price whispered gruffly, getting some affirmative responses. Ghost motioned for Soap to help him scan one side of the second floor, moving slowly through the rooms. Three hostiles were down in the span of two minutes. "Floor clear?" Gaz asked. "Affirmative." Soap replied, looking around. Just as Ghost was about to move out of the room, his eyes fell on a door he hadn't seen at first, with noise from behind it. "Negative. Unchecked room to the south." He motioned. The men rose their guns as Ghost moved toward it, carefully turning the door knob. He listened closely before swinging the door open quickly, locking in on a target almost instantly. They rose their hands with a yelp, an unidentified box in their hand. Ghost's finger twitched on the trigger before they spoke. "Friendly, don't shoot! Unarmed!" They declared, which made Price motion for the team to hold fire. "Name!" Ghost demanded. "Y/N L/N, call sign Blister. I'm a medic with S.A.S, and currently a hostage!" They said, voice sounding out of breath from the rush of adrenaline. Price clicked into the radio for Laswell for an identification as Ghost's eyes looked back at the box they held. Now he could see it was white with a red cross on it, as well as some faded stickers. He lowered his gun as Price confirmed they were telling the truth. Ghost motioned to the box and opened his mouth to demand they hand it over before they tensed, eyes locked on something right past him. "COVER!" They exclaimed. Shots ran past him, Gaz & Soap ducked. An enemy had snuck up behind them. About to reload before a white box flew and clocked them in the face, quickly followed by a throwing knife. As the body dropped limp, the men of 141 looked over with widened eyes as the medic let out a huff. "You said you were unarmed." Ghost replied gruffly, pushing past his feelings of shock. "One knife compared to four AK-12's is pretty much unarmed, big guy." Blister retorted. Ghost scoffed a small amused huff with a nod. "Fair point and good aim." He praised, watching them smile slightly. Price snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Need a gun?" He asked, to which Blister nodded. Ghost took his pistol out and handed it over, though he jerked it from their grasp at the last second with a warning look. "I better not regret givin' you this." He threatened, slowly holding it out again. They took it from his palm slowly, fingertips brushing against his gloves. "Relax, big guy. Only grief I plan to give is to the enemy." They said, checking the ammo clip before putting the gun in their pocket. Price motioned for them to move, stay low. Ghost was sure to trail the medic closely from behind. Unaware that it'd be soon that a higher up would decide that 141 needed a medic, and who better than one with perfect aim?

"Bit late to be up, ain't it?" The voice from behind him made him tense and nearly choke on the smoke in his mouth. Ghost looked over his shoulder as he exhaled the vaporized tabaco, pulling his mask back down once it was expelled completely. He watched Blister meander up to him, highlighted by the color of the moon. "Could ask you the same thing, medic." He replied. They snorted as they came to stand beside him. "Fair point, Lieutenant, fair point." They nodded, tilting their head to look up at the sky. The air was cold and the roof was quiet, below their feet were sleeping soldiers, unaware of the bright moon and twinkling stars. Blister tilted their head as their shoulders fell lax, something Ghost noticed. They never seemed tense and he couldn't fathom it when he couldn't ever relax, even when he was alone his muscles were tight, ready for fight-or-flight at all times. "You're staring, sir." They whispered, looking at him in their peripheral. Ghost scoffed and looked at the sky. "Was not." He denied, hearing them snicker. Silence passed between them before the medic noted Ghost's posture, just like he'd done to them. "You ever gonna let your shoulders relax? Your muscles' are gonna snap under that hypertension, sir." The blond clicked his tongue and shook his head. "These are as relaxed as they're gonna get, medic." He answered. "Because you're burning off constant anxiety?" Their response hit him a bit hard and he snapped his head to look at them. They stood with all their weight shifted to one leg, head tilted. "You don't hide it real well, ya know. All that unease. I know it ain't my place to pry, but I want you to know I can see it." Y/N said softly. Ghost let out an exhale from his nose. "And so what if you do? You're on thin ice, Blister." He warned, getting a headshake in reply. "I'm saying I see it so you know you're not invisible to me." He scoffed, crossing his arms after tossing the put out cigarette off the edge of the roof. The moonlight bounced off his irises, providing superficial light to replace the one that'd been missing since he was young. "Hard to miss me. I'm a "big guy in a Halloween mask", aren't I?" He said, using air quotes. They clicked their tongue. Ghost tensed and looked at them once more as their hand rested on his arm. "What I meant is; I see when you're struggling. And I'm here for you when it gets a bit too heavy. Whether you like it or not. I'm stick to ya, like a superglued plaster, sir." They patted his bicep and gave a kind smile. "Come see me sometime, you don't have to be injured to talk to me. My door's always open." Their words hung in the air as they walked away, and Simon couldn't help but pivot to watch them leave. When they disappeared off the roof, he cursed under his breath, feeling his chest clench and a pressure in the back of his throat. He looked up at the stars with weakness in the circles of his pupils. "...fuckin' help me ma, I'm screwed." He whispered into the night air, watching a star blink back at him.

(Ghostie gets a panic attack but it's still fluffy) Ghost let out a shaky sigh as pins and needles made themselves at home in his extremities. His veins buzzed with anxious energy and his hands had begun to shake slightly. His breathing wasn't erratic yet, but he knew it wasn't long before it would be. He bounced his leg and weighed his options before he stood up, chair squeaking along the floor at the speed of which he did. His footsteps were quick and heavier than usual as he rushed down the halls and toward med-bay. It never made sense to him, why he'd be perfectly fine and then suddenly be hit with sense of panic. Like there was a guillotine hanging over his neck that he couldn't see, but he knew the blade would drop at any second. The med-bay was empty of anyone, except for one person, organizing a new shipment of bandages. Blister heard the door click shut and the ragged breathing. They looked over their shoulder, surprised at first to see Ghost. They went to greet him before noticing all the signs of something they'd seen a million times. Twitchy, anxious, unable to breathe clearly, trembling hands. Without him saying a word, they pulled out a chair and motioned to it. "Sit." They demanded. Simon wasn't one for listening to other's orders if he didn't have to, but he did it, bouncing his leg. Y/N walked over to the water cooler and then a mini fridge, pulling out an ice pack. They walked over with it in hand, along with a tiny cup of water. Y/N placed it on his chest and motioned for him to hold it there. "Simon, look at me." They instructed in a soft voice. "I need you to try and take a deep breath. I know that's not easy, but try your best." He felt them lift his balaclava just far enough to rest over his nose, making it easier to breathe. "Can't you just shoot me up wit' somethin'?" He gasped. "I'd rather not if I can help it. Do you know what's happening right now?" They asked as he took the cup, tossing back the cold water. He shook his head. "This is a panic attack, Si. I'm gonna walk you through it, you just gotta do your best to breathe and focus on me." He didn't have much choice. They took his free hand and sat in front of him, looking him in the eye. "Follow with me. Give me five things you see." Simon swallowed and scanned. "Uh...peeling paint, cracked window, fire hydrant, ugly tile, broken light." He answered. They nodded and squeezed his hand soothingly. "Four things you feel." He took a deep breath. "Your hand, the seam of my jeans, ice pack, my itchy ass stubble." That got a little amused huff out of the medic. "Very good, you're doing great. Now, three things you can hear." Their praise was more comforting than he liked to admit. "My heartbeat, the clock on the wall...your voice." He whispered. They gave him a gentle smile and another squeeze to his hand. "Two things you smell." Simon took a deep breath through his nose and noted what came with it. "Sanitizer and somethin' fruity." He mumbled. "That'd be me. Now, last one. Take a deep breath and then tell me something you taste." They asked. Simon did as he was told, it felt easier now, less like his lungs were collapsing. "Mmph, tea. Bad tea, let the bag sit for too long." He complained. Blister chuckled and stood up, taking the ice pack from him and putting it on the table. They rested their hands on his shoulders, lightly pressing into them as they told him to take some more deep breaths. Once his breathing was steady again, he sighed and blinked slowly. "You alright?" They asked. Simon nodded, though he felt tired now. "You're...a real good medic." He muttered, feeling warm as they snorted cutely. "Thanks, big guy. I do my best."

(Reference to Ghost's poor self image & a singular mention of a wound) Ghost sat in an unmarked van with his back against one of the doors, watching Blister rummage around in hopes of finding medical supplies. His eyes drifted down to his leg, a broken pipe ran through his thigh. It hurt like hell and based on the annoyed growl the medic let out whilst throwing away another useless box, there wasn't anything they could do to help at the moment. Their radios overlapped with the sound of Price's words, informing them about the evac on the way, and how they'd ensure to send the help needed to get Ghost out of there safely. Said man shook his head as Y/N replied to their captain. "Just go. I'll slow ya down, it ain't worth it." He grumbled, wincing as he attempted to move his leg again. "Shut your fucking mouth, lieutenant." Blister hissed back. The man blinked in surprise at their response. They rarely snapped, not unless they were in the midst of battle. "Damnit, medic, don't be stubborn right now. Just fucking go, leave me here. That's an order-" "God damnit, Simon, shut your fucking mouth!" Ghost flinched at their shouting, now even more caught off guard. He watched them stand, walking a few steps to sit between his thighs. They gripped his vest roughly, eyes sharp like daggers and their nose scrunched in anger, teeth clenched tightly. They pointed a finger in his face while breathing heavily. "Now you listen and you listen good, I am not fucking leaving you hear. I am not leaving you anywhere, you understand? We are gonna get you in that fucking evac." They insisted. Ghost rolled his eyes at their declaration. "I am a liability, Blister!" They jostled him roughly. "You are fucking important to me, Simon! Your survival fucking matters to me, and until you stop breathing I am going to ensure I do everything in my power to keep you alive. And not just because it's my fucking job, but because I give a shit!" They shouted. Simon's chest felt tight again. His hands trembled so he curled them into tight fists to hide it. He felt like a kid again, weak and vulnerable. Something he despised. "Why?" He whispered past clenched teeth. He watched their gaze soften and their grip on him loosened, leaving their hand resting on his chest. "Because I care about you, but I know you don't care about yourself. But whether you like it or not, I give a shit whether you live or die. And one day, even if it takes my entire god damn life, I will get you to the day you can look in the mirror and love what you see. In and out. In order to do that, I need you alive. I need you alive to see the great man I see every day, o you're gonna get in that fucking evac, we're gonna get you patched up, and you're gonna live." Their voice shook and he watched their bottom lip shake slightly. Simon shuddered under the weight of their words. "Do you copy?" They asked. He stared at them, unable to find any hints of deception. They meant every word. Simon bit his lower lip and inhaled slowly. "...yeah, I copy."

#call of duty x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #team 141

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hazbin-wannabe · 3 months

Note

“Oh, Whiskey~”

Angel’s voice floats down from the foyer and Husk can’t help but snort at the new nickname.

“Whiskey? You talkin to me or that your drink-” Husk starts to ask, setting down the glass he’d been polishing and turning around, voice catching in his throat. “-order?” he managed to splutter out around his suddenly dry throat.

Angel is splayed out against the bar as per usual, but instead of his usual going-out get up, he’s drowning in an oversized red and black striped sweater with fuzzy socks to match. Husk’s heart thumps at the picture domesticity it paints in his head.

“Can’t it be both?” Angel winks, leaning further over the countertop, sweater slipping distractingly off his shoulder. Before Husk can catch himself, his gaze flicks down - and Angel’s sharp gaze follows, grin stretching across his cheeks like the cat caught the cream.

“Oh? You like my new sweater, Husky?” Angel shimmies his shoulders, causing the material to slip further down.

Husk groans, pinching his nose between his fingers. He sets about fixing up Angel’s Peach Princess cocktail because ,flirty quips aside, Angel has never been a whiskey guy.

“Heeey!” Angel whines when Husk doesn’t immediately take the bait. “I just thought I’d try out a new color palette. You don’t think it suits me?” Angel pouts and makes a show out of stretching one of his calves towards the ceiling to show off the thigh high socks before placing it daintily on the counter.

Husk rolls his eyes and swats his leg away. “No feet on my bar, Legs,” Husk scolds, aware of the smile in his voice.

Angel deflates suddenly, slumping against the side of the bar. “Aw come on, Husky!” He continues to prod, but this time there’s a timidness behind his tone that has Husk raising a brow. “Ya know, I wanted to try these colors cuz they, uh, reminded me…” Angel trails off. His eyes meet with Husk’s, scanning him up and down, before they quickly flit away and red dusts over his cheeks.

“Never mind!” Angel waves a hand flippantly, pulling up the shoulder of the sweater close to his neck. He then slides his drink towards him with a different hand, another one playing with the straw. “Thanks for the drink!”

Husk sighs, long and forlorn, turning his back to Angel to take a long pull from his personal bottle of whiskey.

“Ya look real cute,” he grumbles, then immediately cringes at himself, shoulders bunching up to his ears and face heating up.

The sound of Angel choking on his drink has him whipping his head back around.

“W-What?!” Angel squawks.

Husk smirks then, reveling in having the upper hand for once.

“I said…” Husk starts, leaning his elbows over the counter in Angel’s immediate space. “Ya look real cute in that sweater, babydoll.”

Husk almost aborts when the nickname slips out, but when it makes Angel light up even redder, he quickly regains his confidence.

He edges closer into Angel’s space, his claws brushing against slender fingers. As if on instinct, Angel’s pinky finger latches onto Husk’s at the touch. Angel looks surprised and flushes a shade darker, opening his mouth, likely with an excuse on his tongue.

Husk doesn’t let him, simply slipping Angel’s hand into his grip and bringing it up to his lips.

“Red and black suits you,” he purrs, purposefully fluttering his wings to show-off their matching pattern. “You should wear them more often,” he smirks against Angel’s fingers, then presses a kiss to the back of his hand.

Husk then gently places Angel’s hand back down on the counter, waiting for a comeback.

Instead, Angel gapes at Husk like a goldfish before crying out and burying his face in his hands.

Warm laughter explodes from Husk’s chest at the sight.

Cute, he thinks, but doesn’t voice it this time.

“Haha! Come on, man, I gave you the perfect opening for that one, too!” Husk goads.

Angel cries out again, running his hands down his face that’s still beet red. “You’re not playin’ fair, Husk, that was… ugh… that was too suave! Ya got a girl blushin’ to her toes over here!” Angel finally lifts his face out of his hands to fan at it dramatically with all four hands.

Angel’s eyes crinkle on a laugh, sparkling with something that makes Husk’s chest thump again.

Husk rides on the high of that feeling and winks, unable to resist the temptation to tease, “And I meant it, cutie.”

Angel shrieks, covering his entire face with two arms and pulls his knees into his chest with the other two. “Ohmygawd, enough, enough! You won, you’re too smooth, I’m gonna explode!”

Husk chuckles along with Angel’s theatrics and takes another swig of his whiskey while Angel pulls himself together. When Angel has gained some sense of composure, he slicks his hair back and takes a hardy gulp of his cocktail, eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Alright, alright, I’ll take the win. But for what it’s worth…” Husk looks at Angel pointedly, then flicks the rim of his hat. “I really do think red and black are your colors.”

“Husk!” Angel squeels, picking a peach ring out of his drink and throwing it at Husk’s hat, knocking it off his head.

Husk is about to protest that he really wasn’t even trying to rile Angel up that time. Instead, he simply shrugs, takes a languid sip of his drink and basks in the warm feeling bubbling his chest as Angel pouts and throws a marichino cherry at his face as payback.

Ahhhh!! I'm obsessed!! This was such a fun little collab, thanks so much!!

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin husk #hazbin angel #angel dust #husk #art #digital art

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

A Helping Hand

Professor!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Age Gap(roughly 11 years), Swearing, Pregnancy

Smut: Daddy/Professor (N), Mommy (W), Little Dove/Baby (R), Jean Riding (W),, Oral (N—W, W—R)), Unprotected Sex(R—G!PNat), Squirting( R), Marking (R), Kinks: Lactation ❗️, Praising, Breeding, Choking

5,526 Words

18+ | Minors DNI | SMUT ❗️

Natasha smiled tiredly down at Tommy and Billy, they were truly adorable like this, when they weren't screaming their heads off that is. They'd been up since five am, and finally fell asleep in their swings around nine after two hours of wailing. They were suffering with colic, and therefore the couple were suffering too, at least their little lungs were strong...

Natasha yawned rather loudly as she entered the kitchen, an unavoidable consequence of the glorious sleep schedule of a new mother to a couple of sleepless infants. After steadying her tired body against the marble counters she began to pull down two mugs from the cabinet, then she quickly got to work on breakfast.

The Keurig was the first thing she went for, it was her greatest ally in this current battle of life, Wanda even joked that at this point she might as well have an IV drip of the bitter liquid for her mass coffee consumption. Once she was certain her coffee was brewing she moved quickly to plug in the electric kettle. Wanda's breastfeeding tea was a must for her breakfast routine; happy wife, happy life...

—————

Natasha decided on fixing chocolate chip pancakes, she cut the strawberries into the shape of hearts to try to spruce up the day. Though the day didn't feel special due to the fatigue of life right now, the calendar noted that it was indeed the fourteenth of February. Valentine's Day was Wanda's favorite holiday, so she knew this whole being stuck indoors would be relatively hard for her wife.

Every year they'd usually go out, even in the earlier days when all they had was their measly little allowance. It didn't matter to Natasha if she was saving up for months, she would take Wanda out to the 'fancy' Italian joint, and even have enough money stashed for the dessert. Over the years they expectantly moved up in life, they graduated from the Olive Garden, but no matter what it was always pasta for dinner.

The couple's going on twenty years together, from awkward high school sweethearts to smoking hot professors, it was quite the ride. They'd always wanted kids, but for the better part of their twenties they'd been busy building their careers, but last year that all changed. When Wanda blew out the '35' candles she told her wife that she could feel her womb aching. Natasha laughed at first, her wife had always been the dramatic type, but after she saw the glare paired with the head tilt she was all in.

"Moya lyubov'?," Wanda stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes scanning for her family., "In the kitchen.," she heard her wife's quiet response, her eyes found the sleeping infants, and so she slowly pattered her way to her., "What's for breakfast? It smells good."

Natasha had just finished the plates, so with a smirk, and a swivel on the ball of her feet she presented the plates., "Ta-Da.," she cheered., "Happy Valentine's Day detka.," she held the plates out to the side, then she leaned forward to kiss her., "Happy Valentine's Day lyubov'."

The couple shared a quiet breakfast, as the years had passed by they found silence to be far more comforting than forced conversations. They'd smile at each other from time to time, or make mention of something, but for the most part the room was filled with the sounds of soft chewing, and white noise for the boys.

"Wan—.," before Natasha could ask her what she'd like to do today the doorbell was ringing., "Nooo.," the redhead groaned, because just as soon as the jingle stopped the wailing started.

"You get the door, I'll get the babies.," Wanda remedied, she placed a soft kiss to her lips., "Play nice, no more scaring off the neighbors."

Natasha rolled her eyes, then she marched to the door with a harsh scowl., "What is it?," she barked out, but at the sight of you with your book bag, and a tray of goodies she softened., "Sorry honey, I didn't realize it was you.," you smiled back., "It's okay Professor Romanoff."

A teasing giggle left you when she once again narrowed her eyes., "How many times have I told you to call me Natasha?," you set the tray down on their counter and turned to her with a shrug., "We've been neighbors for seven years, longer than you'd been either of our student."

Even though Nat tries to hide it, you knew she was deeply affected by your use of her title. Before you could continue teasing her, you were interrupted by a loud set of synchronized wailing., "Come Y/N, time to meet the boys."

You'd only ever seen them up close once, when you stopped by just after they got home from the hospital after a trying month in the NICU. The school required Wanda's signature so you could transfer ELA program advisors since she'd be out for your final semester, they wouldn't accept electronic, so you offered to collect it personally since you were neighbors.

That was two months ago, you were far too busy with preparing for the semester to stop by again, but you never stopped the observing. They'd hardly left the house in four months, at first it made sense, Wanda was nesting, and Natasha was supporting her tenfold. But now that the boys are three months, and it's the holiday of love you decided to lend a hand.

Wanda was frazzled, her hair a tousled mess, and her shirt all discombobulated due to her attempts to breastfeed one of the infants., "Detka, what happened?," you watched on as the couple were working together to calm the babies, but sadly nothing they did worked., "I'm not sure Nat, they just combusted."

That comment makes you snort, and eyes of fiery green meet yours., "Y/N/N, why are you here?," Wanda squeaked, then not so subtly tried to fix her messy appearance., "To help."

The couple stare at you in bewilderment as you scoop the infants up from their arms, the boys instantly calmed in your embrace, and they were almost certain you partook in witchcraft.

"It's Valentine's Day, you two should be out.," you relay while not even sparing them a glance as you make the funniest faces at their babies in an attempt to keep them this calm., "Y/N.."

"Nope, don't try it Natasha.," you cut her off, then stared knowingly at the couple., "You two have been cooped up in here for months, it's clearly having an effect on the whole family.," you then gestured to the now calmed babies.

"You might call me a stalker for it but I've kept watch—it's sad how little you two leave, and I'm here to fix it."

"Don't you have class today?," you shook your head amusedly at the idea that they knew your class schedule even though they'd been off.

"Mr. Barnes and Rogers both cancelled their lectures today.," you winked., "Plus, I have a few unused sick days, but luckily we're good."

"This is nice of you Y/N/N, but.," you cut her off again., "Oh, I know it is.," the both of them softly glared at you., "There's no way you two aren't having another one of your magical Valentine's Day dates, so stop debating me, tell me where the stroller is and say thank you."

Natasha and Wanda shared a moment of quiet deliberation as you bounced the fussy babies, no words were spoken, but a heavy sigh lent to you knowing that they decided on something. The two of them got off the couch, then slowly but surely they stalked their way over to you., "You win Y/N.," you beamed at the phrase.

"Thank you!," you squealed, and they simply giggled., "I thought we were supposed to thank you.," you shrugged., "Yeah, I just got excited."

Natasha smirked at her wife, and you knew from years of torment that it meant bad news. Natasha leaned in first, placing a kiss to the boys temples, then Wanda followed behind her, it was innocent enough. Until their eyes were zoned in on you., "Thank you kotenok.," you gasped at the feel of their plump lips on your cheeks, and you willed for the heat rising to dissipate before the teasing only intensified.

Natasha left to the garage to collect the stroller while Wanda hung back to talk to you a bit. She'd asked you how the guy in her place was doing, then she chuckled when you grimaced. Then after catching up on all things Y/N, one of her favorite pastimes actually, she began to go over the twin's prospective schedule with you, she showed you her abundant stash of milk, along with their nursery and essentials.

"Alright, so, I have one more surprise.," you announced while halfway out of the door., "These are vouchers for the salon up the road, an hour long all over body massage is right within your grasps loves.," you slipped the paper into a shocked Natasha's parted hand., "Oh, and you two have a dinner reservation for 5:30pm at Locanda Verde under Maximoff."

Wanda and Natasha watched you leave in a fit of shock., "Can we keep her?," Nat whispered, and her wife softly chuckled., "I sure hope so."

—

After a few hours in which the women spent napping peacefully, they set off to partake in the salon experience after taking a rather steamy shower to clean themselves up first. Apparently the shared intimate moment was just what the worn down mothers needed, and they entered the car in a fit of relieved giggles.

Wanda smiled down at her phone, she awed out loud, and showed her wife the photo you sent once they came to a stop at a red light. Tommy was clearly excited, his pink gums were prominent as the boy grinned at you, and next to him on your blanket was a sleeping Billy.

"How does she do that?," Natasha groaned, the jealousy rolling off her in waves., "Y/N's got a peaceful aura Nat, how many times have you and I calmed down just by seeing her smile?," and as if proving her point, Natasha smiles at the distant memories of you in her classroom.

"Plus, she's right, we're stressed out and that can't be helping the boys with their regulating."

Natasha hummed thoughtfully as she put the car in park., "Then I guess it's a good thing we're going to have our stressors melted away."

—

After awhile sat at the park you felt a chill picking up in the air, the fading of Winter into Spring was well underway, but the sun wasn't doing its job of keeping you warm. Knowing that you were cold, it was expected that the babies were colder, so you placed their sleeping forms into the stroller, cautiously covering them so they were warm, but not smothered.

The walk back to your neighborhood was long, as you took a few detours to run some errands. You stopped at the grocery store for snacks, then you picked up a few toys, and outfits for the infants because you couldn't help yourself. Tommy and Billy began to stir as you neared the house, and they pouted at the sight of you.

All you could do was offer the groggy babies a soft smile, Tommy accepted it, but Billy was a bit more wary and began to cry. They weren't all that used to others, and after a nap it was as if they forgot you altogether. Just like earlier though, as soon as you picked them up they settled, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

After giving them their warmed bottles of their mothers milk you burped them, then after a few diaper changes you settled them onto their bellies, and snapped a photo for their moms. Sending it off you chuckled at the instant 'read' that flashed at the bottom of the screen, and then you reminded them to have fun before you moved to the kitchen to fix yourself lunch.

—

The women left the salon in a daze, everything they'd been holding onto melted away, and all they had to thank for that was you. Their sweet, sweet Y/N, the neighbor that caught their eye instantly, but before they could pounce they found you were enrolled in their university's undergrad program, and now you were in the master program of Wanda's department.

There'd been so many times over the years that they nearly gave in, especially when it was clear how much you wanted it too, but for the sake of your education remaining secure they held off. Now that you're graduating this semester, and no longer under either of their tutelage, they seemed to realize all at once the opportunity that they were presented with today.

"Nat.," the redhead met her wife's lusty gaze with an intrigued one of her own as she sipped the expensive wine from her flute., "Yes?"

"How are we going to thank Y/N?," she asked innocently, but the underlying idea wasn't too hard for the redhead to decipher., "Well, I say we bring her back some dinner.," she paused to down the rest of her wine., "Then I say we stop dancing around the tension, let's capitalize on the moment instead, and rail her senseless."

Wanda whimpered against her glass at the sinful thought, her body instantly warmed as the thought induced a painful arousal to hit. Natasha never was one to care about remaining coy in public, and the slick now coating her wife's thighs gave way to the effect she had on her in her buzzed state., "I-I need her Nat."

"Me too.," the redhead breathed out affectedly, the thought of you clenching around her cock more than enough to leave her feeling dizzy., "Shall we get some to-go boxes?," she asked while reaching under the table to rearrange her pants fabric so her bulge was less noticeable. Wanda answered her by waving the waiter down, and asking for your dinner to go, another bottle of wine, and for a few boxes.

"Happy Valentine's Day moya lyubov'.," the brunette said with a sweet smile while she raised her glass to clink with her wife's. Natasha smiled back, appreciating the lines that adorned her lover's face that showed her of a happy life well lived., "Happy Valentine's Day detka.," she clinked their glasses, and they settled back in their seats to the thought of you.

Happy Valentine's Day to them indeed...

—

Wanda entered the house with a pained groan, pulling your attention up from your laptop, and just as she'd hoped you sauntered over to her., "Wanda, what's wrong?," she nearly lost her momentum when you cupped her cheeks, but the buzz in her head kept her motivated., "Mommy needs you Y/N.," your hand fell from her face and you stumbled back a bit.

"Wanda, I-I'm not sure what's happening.," your heart was stammering in your chest at the idea of being with them, but you weren't sure if you could trust the moment., "Honey, you said you were here to help us, right?," you nodded rather dumbly, causing the brunette to smirk wickedly., "Then come here baby, and help."

Wanda slowly guided your hands to the hem of her shirt, and it was up close that you noticed the prominent wet patches over her breasts., "Mommy's breasts are so full baby, but I can't pump or it'll go to waste.," she pouted., "We don't want that, do we?," you shook your head with a sweet smile that she easily matched.

With her hands over yours she pressed you to lift her shirt, and as you slowly complied you felt your stomach flip at the sight of her breasts spilling over her bra. Lost in a trance you were not ready for the next moment when the bra hit the floor., "Think you can help mommy baby?"

Flecks of a murky white pebbled over her nipples, the woman watched intently as you unconsciously licked your lips., "Well?," you shyly smiled at her, and nodded your head., "I'll help you, whatever you need mommy.," she moaned when you tentatively groped her, and sealed your fate for the night of your life.

Wanda yanked you into her by the collar of your shirt, her plump lips hungrily attached to yours as she spun your bodies around and fell backwards onto the couch with you following. Though her breasts ached with the pressure of her supply she couldn't resist kissing you, the feel of you against her just felt too right, it was like you were perfectly made for this role.

"Wow.," Natasha breathed, the sight of you and her wife making out so desperately nearly had her busting in her boxers., "I told you to wait for me Wanda.," the tension you felt at being caught in a messy situation faded instantly as she trailed a hand down from your neck to your backside where she roughly groped the thinly covered flesh and smirked triumphantly when you moaned into her lovers parted mouth.

Wanda was growing needier by the second, her panties were beyond ruined and her nipples were leaking of their own accord, so with a hand in your hair she was moving you down., "Go on baby, drink mommy's special milk.," she panted in anticipation and you gulped down your nerves and experimentally licked up a drop, moaning at the semi bitter taste of her.

"Hold on honey.," Natasha gently caressed your cheek, twisting your head to face hers as she happily stole a kiss from your swollen lips., "Let daddy show you how mommy likes it.,"

Natasha moved over Wanda's other breast, slipping her tongue out she slowly swirled around the sensitive nub a few times, then she flattened the tip of her tongue out beneath the nipple, and began to suckle, Wanda's body arched into yours as Natasha's cheeks hollowed to get the milk to really start flowing, then she let the nipple go much to Wanda's dismay.

Natasha pulled you in for a sloppy kiss by the nape of your neck, giving you a taste of what's to come. The kiss wasn't sweet this time, she swirled her tongue around yours tauntingly, she had you panting within mere seconds. It was rather embarrassing how quickly these two were able to have you desperate for them, but it was far better than the quiet, obvious pining.

When Wanda whined she reluctantly pulled away with your bottom lip caught between her teeth, nibbling it ever so slightly to gauge your reaction. A smirk painted her features as a mix between a moan and a whimper left your lips., "Drink up baby, make mommy feel good, and then afterwards daddy will return the favor."

A playful wink was sent your way before she was standing upright again, her hands quickly fumbled to remove her belt, then her pants. Finally relieving her pulsating member from the harsh pressure of her slacks., "Oh shit...," she groaned at the sight of you working her wife up so well. Sounds of Wanda's moans and your slurping left her gently stroking herself with the same sentiment of a needed release.

"Open up .," Natasha husked, her fingers drumming across her wife's cheek, and as Wanda slowly opened her eyes she was met with Natasha's rock hard cock. Her whimpers of pleasure morphed into a moan, the idea of sucking her off while you drained her as well turned her on even further., "Milk daddy for all she has detka.," Natasha's tip tapped against her plump lips, and the cue was easily taken.

Wanda anchored a hand in your hair, while her other gripped onto Natasha's muscular thigh. Tears of pleasure slipped over her temples, matting her hair to her face as she allowed Nat to tenderly fuck her throat, the redhead was feeling sentimental, so she tempered her urge to destroy the brunette like she usually does.

The longer you suckled the more addicted you became to her ever flowing milk, it seemed like it was becoming sweeter, and you truly couldn't get enough of it. Add onto that the sounds of Wanda's obvious approval and you found your thighs clenching, "You're doing so well for your mommy, I can feel her every single whimper.," Natasha groaned as her finger tenderly stroked over your hollowed cheek, and you mewled at the praise combined with the gentle caressing.

An angry whine left you when the breast you were suckling ran dry., "It's okay little dove.," Natasha breathily shushed you, and Wanda guided your dizzy head over to her other breast that was aching just as bad as her jaw was.

Everything happened in a perfect sequence really, your leg had shifted between Wanda's when she guided you to her breast, giving her the perfect surface for the needed friction for her to rut against and reach her state of bliss. Natasha was close too, the buildup was slow, but the more Wanda's moans resounded around her shaft the tighter the coil wound.

"Oh fuck.," Natasha screamed as her hips stuttered, and all at once her release shot down Wanda's throat, Nat pulling back just to give her lover a bit of a facial., “Fucking hell detka, you look so hot with my load on your face.”

Wanda was gasping for air as she’d not only been deprived of the glory that is oxygen, but she’d also climaxed hard while suffocating., “Look at mommy baby, we did that to her.,” Natasha tapped the back of your head softly, you slowly unlatched from Wanda’s sore nub with a loud pop, and a messy slurp that had dribbles of your sweet treat trailing over Wanda’s collarbone. Looking up you saw the beauty that was Wanda Romanoff-Maximoff.

Her skin was flushed, with a sheen layer of sweat upon her skin, mouth wide open as she desperately tried to breathe. It was only as you slowly came out of your milk drunk haze that you feel her rutting against your black jeans. Slowly you crawled higher and without any hesitation you cleaned Natasha’s cum off of her face, moaning pleasurably at the taste of her.

“Wow.,” you were awestruck, this was what you’d always fantasized about, but you never actually thought you’d get to see., “Yeah.,” Natasha chuckled., “That was all us baby.,” you met her devious smirk with a dopey smile that had Natasha craving to hold you intimately.

"It's okay little dove.," Natasha coo'd, pulling you off her wife, who's body was still trembling with the after effects of her intense orgasm., "You did such a good job.," Natasha beamed at the sight of your dizzy state, then she leaned in to kiss you hotly., "Daddy's going to take such good care of you, but first we need to take this party upstairs, then I'll rail you senseless."

Your body tensed at the brash promise made., "Please, I need you so badly professor.," you whimpered against her lips, and she felt her semi-soft cock harden in between your bodies. She’d been called that many times in the last five years, but it never affected her until you said it so innocently during one of her Russian Lit seminars. When you, their sweet little neighbor uttered it, she nearly buckled at the knees; it filled her mind with vivid imagery.

The idea of fucking you in a short skirt from behind while marking up quizzes on your back. With her red marker she’d paint an A+ on a certain student’s work, it was her scarlet letter fantasy. Sometimes she’d imagine you on your knees for her, begging her to let you suck her cock, her debt inducing title slipping the more desperate you got to feel her down your throat. To right now, where she imagines fucking you so incredibly well, until you have no choice but to just pass out. She’s never been more needy.

“Oh baby.,” her lips pressed against your cheek.. “You’re such a pretty little whore for your professor’s cock.,” she slowly guided your hand down., “Aren’t you?,” a gasp left your parted lips upon feeling her throbbing against the pads of your fingers., “Yes, I-I am professor, can’t wait to be all filled with you.”

Natasha growled, your words and moan worthy grope of her shaft combined almost enough to have her take you now without a lick of mercy., “Go to the room, and sit pretty for me baby.,” she pulled you in for a rough parting kiss, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood., “We’re right behind you.,” her hand slapped your ass as you turned around, you moaned embarrassingly, and she chuckled.

“Did you see that detka?,” she softly whispered as she lifted her wife up off the couch., “She’s ours now, our little dove, no one else’s again.,” Wanda smiled up at her in a mix of blisses., “Nash malen'kiy golub'.,” she giggled in a hush, and Natasha pecked her lips amusedly., “Da.”

Upon entering the room she grinned at the sight of you with your hands on your knees as you kneeled with a smile and devious glint., “Good active listening skills Miss. Y/L/N.,” she greeted in her familiar professional tone, and she watched your innocent façade crumble as you gripped your knees and clenched your thighs., “Let’s see how you listen now.”

Natasha laid Wanda down besides you with care, her head landing softly on the pillows., “Professor Maximoff is a bit messy, and well it’s all your fault.,” she taunted from behind, her arm wrapping around you, and her hand softly clinging to your throat causing you to gasp harshly., “You’re going to clean her all up now baby, and as you do I’m going to fuck you from behind, hard and fast like a whore likes.”

“Do I make myself clear?,” she now gritted against the shell of your ear., “Yes Professor.”

Her hand slid back around, splaying flat against the nape of your neck as she’s swiftly pushing your face down into her wife’s slick covered pussy., “Get to work!,” you dove right on in excited for this golden opportunity. Licking slow, long strips seemed to work for her, she slowly met your tongues movement, and as she did you began to pick up the pace, and she followed in tandem with you.

Natasha watched your hole in awe, clenching spastically around nothing as you clearly found yourself growing far needier the more you pleasured the actual goddess lying underneath your lips. It was quite the sight to see, and it made her just as desperate to feel them doing that around her; wet and warm., “Oh fuck.,” she moaned in a broken voice as she slid into you, there wasn’t any resistance with how wet you were, but she felt your walls fluttering as they worked to accommodate the new stretch.

The room was a chorus of choppy, muffled sounds as the three of your bodies moved as one. Natasha pounded into you, her hands gripping your hips loosely, and as your body lurched forward, Wanda’s would move against it, and the rhythm never faltered on either end, the wives in sync as they wrecked you wholly.

After Wanda’s release flooded your mouth, you were able to focus solely on Natasha as the aforementioned sunk into the mattress with labored breaths., “Professor, please, more!”

Natasha faltered at the sound of your croaky voice., “Beg for it baby, what do you want?,” an arm wrapped around your waist and pulled your back against her front, she held you up effortlessly while continuing to fuck up into you., “I-I.,” you broke off into a moan when she began to suck a mark against your throat.

“Go on.,” she mumbled, continuing to mark the exposed skin as you panted heavily., “Wanna be full Professor, want you to fuck your cum into me, I don’t want you to stop either until it’s dripping down my thighs, please.,” her member throbbed, pulsing against your walls as your words held a heavy effect on her.

Wanda and Natasha locked eyes for a brief moment in time, your desperate request was nothing to take lightly, but with a set of smiles they were quick to give in to you. They knew you were on birth control anyways, so it’s not likely you’d get pregnant, but the main thought was that they wouldn’t care either way.

So you screamed as the redhead didn’t relent her pace, and you were encroaching unable to breathe as Wanda shimmied down, and began to play with your bundle of neglected nerves., “Fuck, you’re just so hot.,” Wanda began to mark your abdomen and fondled your breasts, making your body tremble even harder.

“I-I’m.,” you stuttered, tears now streaming down your cheeks as the pit nears painful, and without needing to finish your sentence the redhead gives you what you need., “Let go for us now Miss Y/L/N, be our most prized pupil,” and with a steadying hand now wrapped tightly around your throat you came hard, your slick gushing down and spraying out onto the sheets and landing all over an astonished Wanda.

Natasha groaned, of course you squirted, you always were an over achiever. Her hips rutted against your cunts clenching walls, hitting so deeply into you that you were already on the edge again., “I’m cumming baby, I’m going to paint your walls with my essence.,” hot spurts of white were released in you instantaneously, and you therefore writhed in her strong hold as another wave of blinding pleasure worked to consume your entire body whole.

Wanda watched the way her wife continued to thrust into you shallowly, every thrust pushing a mix of your releases back into you, and it was a sight she was trying to paint to her memory. Watching affectedly as you gasped for air with every one as she lazily circled your clit until you whined for her to stop, it was all too much, you were truly fucked out, and undeniably pliant., “Such a precious thing, our little dove.”

“All yours.,” you confirmed, and they smiled.

Natasha placed firm kisses to your shoulder after pulling out of you, with a smooth swivel of your body her lips found yours for a sweet kiss. Wanda’s essence transferring to her as she slid her tongue over yours in a quick circle, then she pulled away and pulled you into a soothing embrace, rocking you momentarily, and soaking the moment in before she had to begin heading into the oh so necessary after care.

Natasha gently laid you down in her wife’s awaiting arms., “I love you guys.,” they both shared an emotional smile, then Wanda pulled you tightly into her., “We love you too baby.,” her lips found yours briefly before she was adjusting the both of you to be laying down., “So very much.,” Nat added with a kiss to your forehead, and you sighed rather dreamily.

Natasha left you two cuddled up in the bed, making her way downstairs she whipped up a few sandwiches and collected waters for all. After ensuring the both of you were full in all ways, she wandered into the en suite and brought out all she needed. While she was gently wiping at Wanda’s sensitive folds, you were using another wipe to clean her face.

Natasha saw the look in your eyes, and her heart soared when she saw the true love, this wouldn’t end here, it will be something eternal. Only to be double confirmed when your eyes met hers and you never lost the loving glint., “What?,” you shyly asked and she smiled teasingly., “You’re just really beautiful Y/N.”

“Natty.,” you whined, hands flying up to your face to hide your silly smile, and she only laughed harder., “Don’t hide from me now.,” her hands gripped yours, separating them just enough to lean in and kiss you a few times., “Now get some rest, your day was long.,” you smiled, gently nodding before snuggling further into the exhausted woman’s hold.

Wanda held you tightly in her arms as she faded off to sleep. Her tummy, heart, and Y/N meter full up for the night. Natasha was just about to settle down besides you when the baby monitor went off., “I’ll get it.,” you tried to offer, but Wanda’s grip tightened., “net, moy.,” she softly growled in her sleep, and Natasha pressed you back down with a smirk., “Rest little dove, you’ve done more than enough.” (No, mine)

Natasha left the room with a final kiss to your snoring lips, and a wide, accomplished smile on her swollen pair. They finally have every last thing they could ever need, and there was no way they would ever let you go. Not when they loved you for far too long in the forced dark. And especially not when you find out a month later that your implant had been expired…

———

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apompkwrites · 10 months

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disappearance of an asim || kalim al-asim

masterlist characters: kalim (platonic) genre: angst contains: help there's more names oh god, kidnapping summary: the asim siblings go down from 32 to 31 children in the span of a single night. notes: lol posting this before I sleep and go to college again tomorrow anyway you get to meet more siblings :)) parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

faraj was used to waking up to a bundle of siblings gathering in his room. in fact, he would find it odd if none of them were there in his waking moments.

he never minded it. it was a welcome surprise that greeted him every morning. he played an internal guessing game of "which of my siblings are here" before he opened his eyes.

he usually won this game, too. he had a good balance of gut instinct and reading slight clues in the room that he knew right away which sibling had decided to wake him up that day.

light fluttering of book pages being turned? that's rawiya, most likely there to collect new ideas for stories she wanted to write.

heavy footsteps that sounded like constant marching? probably junayd who had just come home from training.

and, this morning, faraj heard soft pattering on the floor, one more sluggish than the other. he knew immediately that it was the pair of sleepy twins qamar and hala.

"faraj...!" qamar yawned. but, despite his sleepy tone, there was a hint of panic laced in it. faraj opened his eyes slowly, letting out a yawn himself, before sitting up in bed.

"good morning, you two," he hummed softly, trying his best to fix his bedhead.

"faraj...!" qamar whined, sleep still lacing his tone. he sniffled and scrambled onto faraj's bed, tugging on his pajama sleeve.

"what's wrong, qamar?" faraj yawned again, rubbing the boy's shoulder gently. as he stared down at his sniffling siblings, he felt something tighten in his chest.

"w-we went to find (n-name)," he cried, his words catching in his throat with every sob, "b-but we couldn't f-find them!"

"deep breaths, qamar," faraj cooed, rubbing his shoulder. he turned to look at hala, who had crawled up onto his bed and curled up into his other side. "did you check their room? maybe they went to bed early."

"we checked," hala huffed, burying her face in faraj's side. "they weren't there."

"huh..." faraj muttered. "well, breakfast is in an hour or so. I'm sure you'll see them then."

that was what he thought, of course. but, when he and the rest of his siblings gathered at the table, the guards standing outside of the hall, he noticed one chair was left empty.

in between lulu and qamar was (name)'s empty chair.

faraj had to pause for a moment. that was strange... without fail, (name) had always made it to breakfast. he scanned the table before his eyes landed on menna, who was the one to wake up any remaining siblings in their rooms.

"menna," he called out as everyone nestled into their seats. "did you see (name) in their room this morning?"

"i was just gonna bring that up," she responded. "I was gonna ask if the twins saw them last night."

"that's the thing," faraj muttered worriedly. "they didn't."

the table fell into silence for a single moment. it was unnerving. it was quite rare for the room to be completely silent. the only times it ever happened were if kalim, nawra, or rawda were absent from the table due to a threat.

"...what did you say?" menna asked, her voice straight and emotionless.

"they didn't see them," faraj repeated. "they woke me up this morning saying they couldn't find them..."

"are you trying to say (name)'s missing?!" kalim gasped, slamming his hands on the table. the other siblings jumped at the sudden rattle, prompting kalim to utter an apology under his breath before he continued to panic. "they couldn't, right?! they must have fallen asleep somewhere else, right?!"

"kalim, settle down," faraj responded in a stern tone. "panicking won't help us."

"we'll go look around for them," menna offers, standing up. she points to herself before listing off the other siblings. "raabi'a, mahdi, faraj. samad, come with me. kalim, safaa', tasnim, watch the others."

the siblings all fell into their duties relatively quickly, except kalim who was insisting on going out to find (name) as well.

but, the five ignored his pleas, hurrying out of the dining hall. outside, they were met with a handful of their servants, all of whom stared back at them with surprised expressions.

"is something wrong?" jamil, as expected, was the first to speak up. he stepped forward, a bit tense when he noticed kalim was still in the dining hall.

"we're just searching for one of our siblings," safaa' huffed. "no need to get involved."

"...yes, of course," jamil bowed his head and stepped back. faraj and mahdi could only offer apologetic looks as they hurried off into the hall.

the five split up, covering each part of their home. and, when they gathered again, they all came up empty handed.

kalim, upon the arrival of his five siblings and not six, was quick to rush out of the dining hall. he hurried down the hall, past jamil, past the guards, past the advisors that wandered the home, and straight to where his father was.

"dad! dad!" he called out as he burst through the door, ignoring the surprised looks of his parents. "(name)'s gone missing!"

his father paused for a moment. a single moment. his eyes were wide as kalim's words were processed in his mind.

"kalim's gone missing!"

"nawra's gone missing!"

"rawda's gone missing!"

his father was so used to hearing these sentences, but...

(name)...? why them? why, why, why?

he couldn't think. and as his wife placed her hand on his, squeezing it tight, the first words tumbled out of his mouth.

"find out where they've gone," he ordered to the guards, who all took the command and hurried off out of the room.

kalim and his father stared at each other for a moment longer. neither of them knew why this fate had fallen them again, especially with one of the siblings that were supposed to be at the least risk of being in trouble...

kalim nor his father wanted to think about it any longer. but they knew they had to.

the room is dark. quiet. eerie. you hated it. your mind was so fuzzy and faint that you could barely understand whether the room was truly empty or if it was just the unconsciousness enveloping your brain.

you tried to move. but you couldn't. you were latched onto something. it wasn't rope or cloth because it wasn't soft, no, it was cold. and stiff.

you tried again. you still couldn't move.

you heard something creak across from you. footfalls. heavy, heavy footfalls.

"well, well, well, look who's awake."

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valkyriexo · 2 months

Text

Microphones and Mistakes

ᑉ³pairing; Dad! Husband! Bangchan x idol! Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst

ᑉ³warnings; Implied unwanted pregnancy, Arguments, Cursing

ᑉ³Authors Note; This is my first Tumblr Fic! Thank you so much for reading <3 Edited! Please let me know if there are any warnings I am missing!

*·˚ᑉ³Part 2

"We will be ready to start again in 5," a staff member near the sound booth said. You sighed as you plopped yourself down on the side of the stage. Another staff member ran over to you with water and a new microphone.

"I'm sorry about all the issues, Y/N. We're working to fix them now, and I assure you it won't happen again," he said, handing you the water.

"Thank you," was the only answer you could provide. Anxiously, you sat on the side of the stage, getting your in-ear monitors fixed, already feeling frustrated and out of breath.

This was your debut performance of the highly anticipated Stray Kids X Y/N song. Countless late nights had been dedicated to crafting this masterpiece, with you and your husband Chan pouring your hearts and souls into every lyric and melody. The song had soared to the top of the charts in a matter of days due to its popularity, which brought immense pressure. Any misstep during this crucial performance could spell disaster for both of your upcoming comebacks, tarnishing the success you had worked so tirelessly to achieve. You had run through the performance once, but unexpected sound issues had arisen, causing you to be behind schedule.

Chan, usually by your side and supportive, was busy with his own schedule, making sure he and the kids were prepared for the performance as well.

You scanned the room, watching staff buzzing around and fixing what you could only imagine were other issues. Each staff member moved with purpose, adjusting lights, checking sound equipment, and ensuring every detail was in place for the upcoming performance.

Amidst the chaos, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves. You let the sounds wash over you, the cacophony blending into a soothing rhythm. With each deep breath, you felt the tension slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of quiet determination.

Then, you heard it.

The wailing of your almost 4-year-old son, Kai. He had decided that this particular moment was the perfect time to be anything but calm. He cried and wailed incessantly, much to the dismay of the nanny who had been entrusted with his care. Your eyes shot open to see Kai running towards you, with the nanny following just a few steps behind.

"Mommy!" Kai wailed as he ran into your arms.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. He slipped out of my hands and has been crying all afternoon, and I turned for one second to grab him a toy, and he ran off," the nanny explained.

"It's okay," you replied, turning your attention to the crying boy in front of you. "I w-wanna be with M-Mommy!" Kai cried out.

"Kai, sweetheart, you know you can't be in here." You replied running your hands through his hair.

"But Mommy—"

"No buts. Baby, I'm sorry, but both Mommy and Daddy have to work. You have to stay with your Nanny," you said gently, hoping to lure him back to his nanny. But Kai's disappointment was evident as he cried even more.

"We're ready to start again, Y/N," a staff member said ignoring the scene taking place in front of him.

"But I don't like Nanny!" Kai protested, his voice rising in pitch as frustration bubbled within him.

Your patience wavered, the pressure of the impending performance weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Kai, I understand, but you have to be a big boy for me, alright? Mommy and Daddy need to work. We'll spend lots of time together later, I promise."

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout, his tear-streaked face a portrait of stubborn defiance. "I don't want later, I want now!"

Feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, and with Chan nowhere in sight, the only solution in your head was this. You scooped Kai up, adjusting his soundproofing headphones as you got in place to begin the song.

But Kai seemed determined to make his displeasure known. As the music played, and you began to sing, you felt his tiny hands grasp onto your microphone, tugging at it with all his might. In the midst of the commotion, he also managed to yank out one of your in-ear monitors, leaving you disoriented and struggling to hear the music properly.

What you didn't realize is that Kai also had his sippy cup in his hand. With all the commotion, it popped open and spilled—

All over you.

As the music shifted, symbolizing the entrance of Stray Kids, you shot Kai a look, hoping to get him to behave. Your eyes met Chan's, and he shot you and Kai a look of confusion. He noticed you were struggling, and he quickly sprang into action. Despite needing to sing and dance during the sound check, he took Kai into his arms, attempting to calm him down while still fulfilling his duties on stage.

Meanwhile, with your microphone dangling precariously from one hand and your in-ear monitors in the other, you tried your best to soldier on. But the frustration was evident on your face as you struggled to maintain your composure amidst the chaos. The song ended, and you heard your manager through the one remaining in-ear monitor.

"Y/N, what's going on? This is your second run with all the issues fixed, and this one was worse than the first. We don't have time to do this again."

Out of frustration, you pulled the in-ear monitor out of your ear. Without a word, you stormed off the stage, taking Kai out of Chan's arms, leaving him and the rest of the kids behind.

You brought Kai into a nearby room and crouched down in front of him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface.

The sight in front of you was painful. Your little boy stood there, looking so innocent with the cup and a piece of your in-ear monitor in hand.

You couldn’t believe it.

You fought to maintain your composure, but couldn’t. The soft sound of approaching footsteps only served to heighten your frustration, pushing you dangerously close to your breaking point. With each passing moment, the pressure mounted, a simmering rage threatening to boil over.

"What the hell, Kai?" You let out. "What is wrong with you today? You misbehave all morning, are mean and fussy with your nanny, and then look," you said, pointing at yourself, "you pulled off my microphone and in-ears and spilled your juice all over me." The little boy stared back at you with big brown eyes and a pout on his face.

"I've raised you better than this, Kai. What is wrong with you?!" You raised your voice a little, causing Kai to jump. He took little steps quickly to hide behind his father, who was now standing in the room. His little hands were shaking, and his lips were quivering.

Chan's eyes softened as he felt little hands grip his pants.

"Baby...What's going on?" he said to you, picking up his son with one hand, wiping the tears that began to stream down his face once again. "Don’t stress out, baby. It's okay,"

"No, Chan. It's not okay. He's constantly disobeying, and every time he does, you just wipe his tears and let it slide. That's why he keeps repeating these behaviors. You've coddled him so much that we can't even put him down for a few minutes!" You groaned frustrated as you stood.

"Y/n, it's fine. He's just a baby—" You shot a pointed look at him instantly, causing him to fall silent and redirect his attention to his son, who was clinging to his shirt.

"I'm s-sorry," Kai choked on his sobs.

Chan's heart melted at his little pout. "It's okay, baby, no need to cry. Daddy's got you," Chan wiped the tears from his cheeks and gently took the cup from his tiny little hands. "Y/N, look what you've done, now he's panicking."

"Seriously Chan?" you replied, clearly annoyed.

"He's just a kid! Kids cry, they make mistakes. He's still learning, Y/N. We need to guide him, not scold him," his voice grew louder with frustration.

"So how exactly do you plan to teach him? By comforting him, telling him it's alright, and then forgetting about it, knowing he'll repeat the same behavior in the future?"

"HE'S A CHILD, Y/N! He learns through trial and error. He doesn't fully comprehend right from wrong yet. Why do you always resort to yelling? And why am I always the one expected to properly care for him?"

"Properly care for him? I'm the only one who does since you're hardly ever home! I do everything for him. I—"

"Stop being a poor parent and actually teach him. For someone who didn't want a kid, you're oddly protective of him."

You stared blankly at him.

You, the one who was up day and night when Kai was sick, While Chan was working in the studio

You, the only one who took him to all of his appointments, dance classes, games, and events, while Chan was away on tour.

You, the only one who sat with him when he was struggling with homework, when Chan was too tired to stay awake.

You, the one who took care of Kai and never took a break, while Chan never did.

You.

The tension in the air was thick. The shocked gasp that left your mouth was painful. Your head started to spin, your eyes turning red as your body started to overheat. The emotions you felt were overwhelming. Your eyes landed on your son, who was covering his face in his father's chest, as Chan's eyes grew wider and wider, realizing the weight his words had on you.

"I'm- I'm sorry," the little boy squealed again.

"It's okay, baby," Chan comforted his shivering body.

"Well, maybe since I'm such a poor parent and a terrible teacher, I should let you handle it all on your own then," you said, brushing past him and your son and closing the door behind you on your way out.

You were stunned, your mind struggling to process everything. Your hands felt icy, and the weight of it all became too much to bear. You were exhausted from constantly putting up a front, tired of shouldering everyone else's burdens.

You longed for the freedom you once had, to reclaim your own life.

The urge to flee, to escape from it all, gnawed at your thoughts.

Yes, you cherished Chan and the life you shared, but you yearned to rediscover yourself. You craved to feel cherished, to be loved by your husband like you once were. You wished to relive the carefree days of youth, to experience love anew.

You made your way to the dressing room, seeking solace. Despite the turmoil within, you had a show to perform tonight. Sitting down, you took a deep breath, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. Tears welled up in your eyes, staining your cheeks.

No.

You refused to let the chaos of the moment ruin the performance ahead. With determination, you steadied yourself, forcing a smile.

The show must go on.

*·˚ᑉ³Part 2

#stayville #bang chan #skz #lee felix #lee know #minho #changbin #jeongin #seungmin #hyunjin #stray kids #dad #idol

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midorisplash · 1 year

Text

POV: Yeonjun Has a Crush on his Best Friend’s Sister.

Pairing: Sub!Yeonjun × Dom!Reader

Summary: Yeonjun, falls off his skateboard and gets scratched up. He goes to his best friend's house for help but instead, you answer.

Warnings: Blood (mentions of it, not a kink.), Degrading, Praise, Slight Nipple play, Humping, Finishing in pants. Penetration.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/n: Ignore mistakes, (not edited) I really like this on girl. I hope you all like it too.<3

“Beomgyu!” Yeonjun whined loud enough you could hear him from outside the front door. “Beomgyu!” He whined out again easy for you to tell now, he is crying. You frowned putting your fork down and walking over to the door unlocking it and opening it watching Yeonjun quickly stumble in almost hitting you. One arm was wrapped around his skateboard, while his backpack hung from his shoulder. Yeonjun face was scrunched in pain as you scanned his body noticing how much blood was on his arms and shirt.

He sniffed and finally looked at who was holding the door thinking it would be Beomgyu, his face dropping and trying not to look in pain when he saw you placing his skateboard down. “W-where’s Beomgyu?” He sniffed with a shaky voice looking down.

Yeonjun is one of your brothers, Beomgyu's best friend, he’s also one of your neighbors. You think he could be a sweet boy but you swear he doesn’t like you. As long as he and Beomgyu have been friends he’s barely spoken a word to you and always looks like he rather not speak to you. You usually just smile and not talk since he does the same but seeing him covered in blood like this makes your heart drop.

You pouted walking to him quickly and closing the door behind you. “He’s Asleep…Did you fall?” You asked. He looked down like he was trying hard to hold his tears after a second looking back up to meet your eyes. He slowly nodded and couldn’t help tears rushing out of his eyes. “It hurts..” He whimpered. You quickly pulled the backpack off his shoulder placing it on a hook before grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen table. “This is why I always tell you and Beomgyu not to skate around when it starts getting dark.” You whispered making him sit at the kitchen table.

Yeonjun whimpered looking down and playing with his fingers hearing you quickly moving. You got a wet towel and grabbed some bandaids you saw in a cabinet and came back placing them on the table and gently grabbing his arm. “You didn’t break anything right?” You whispered moving his arm back and forth. “No.” He spoke. You nodded “Good. Cause I don’t know how to fix that.” You giggled to yourself before getting serious and starting to clean the blood off his arm.

“Tell me what happened. Why did you come here instead of going to your house?” He looked away swallowing starting to feel embarrassed.

Yeonjun hated that he cried in front of you just now. He likes you and wants you to think he’s cool and nonchalant. He thinks you’ll like that. He has a huge crush on you but you’re his best friend's sister, and he’s not sure how Beomgyu will feel about that. And also you’re older than him, so you probably think he’s still childish. For this reason, he knows you too can never be real but that doesn’t stop him from liking you.

He sighs quietly finally mustering up the courage to speak. “There was a rock on the ground I didn’t see. And I hit it and started rolling. I was closer to your house so I came here, and I didn’t want my mom to worry.” He mumbled whipping his tears off his cheek.

You looked up to his face sighing at his glossy eyes bringing a hand to help whip his tears. “I’m sorry that happened.” You spoke pulling your hand away and grabbing a bandage. “Luckily I think it’s just small scratches, just a lot of blood.” She spoke. After a couple of dozen decorated bandaids and a towel covers In blood, you had covered all his scratches. His arms were almost covered in bandaids.

“There, good as new.” You smiled looking at his face finally. He quickly looked away then at his arms. “Thank you..” He whispered. You smiled and then gasped pushing his hair from his temple. It was a small scratch and a small amount of blood but it still worried you. Yeonjun looked at you and could help his cheeks getting red at you staring at his face being so close. “W-What is it?” “You’re bleeding, let me see.” You spoke getting closer to his face and moving his hair out of the way grabbing the towel and gently dabbing the area.

He tried to stay calm but his heart was beating fast his breath was hitching as he breathed he didn’t know what to do but just hold his breath as you whipped the blood away. “It’s a tiny cut it won’t leave a scar.” You spoke quietly grabbing a bandaid and having to back away for a second as you hear Yeonjun release the breath he was holding. You looked at him then back to his cut opening the bandaid. “Did it hurt?” You questioned. He shook his head looking down. You nodded putting the bandaid on the scratch looking down at his face. His plump lips were red from licking his tears away, his nose tip red from all his tears. You were awed by how cute he looked like this. Of course, it was sad he was crying but you had never seen him so vulnerable. “You look so cute.” You blurted out with a giggle poking his nose.

He blinked and looked at you, just then you noticed how red his cheeks were. You awed even more bringing his hair back down over his bandaid. He stayed silent and then finally spoke. “Y-You think?” He whispered “But I was just crying, don’t women not like when men cry?” You rolled your eyes at his words. “Whoever told you that just wants you to not get any woman.” You giggled. “And, I know you were crying and all but I've never seen you look more adorable.” He smiled a little and looked away. “Thank you..”

You nodded. “I’ll go steal you one of Beomgyu's shirts and send you off home for the night. Don’t want you to go home too late.” You spoke patting his shoulder and walking away heading upstairs.

Yeonjun looked at you go then started looking around slowly standing up. “She called me cute!” He giggled walking to the mirror in their walkway and looking at himself fixing his hair and whipping his mouth. “I’ll see you later, your cute too.” He spoke to himself into the mirror then shook his head “You’re more than cute, you’re beautiful.” He whispered. “No, I should have said that earlier. Uh if you think I’m cute now, imagine how cute I’ll be when…I can’t say that.” He giggled covering his mouth. He kept whispering to himself in the mirror about what he would say to you before he left until he heard you clear your throat.

You had come back downstairs and were standing watching and listening to him for a couple of minutes. “I got your shirt. You know you could have just told me I’m cute.” You chuckled walking to him and handing him the shirt. His face was glowing red as he took the shirt. “Yeah…Your right, I just wanted to make sure I sounded cool, ya know.” He mumbled looking away. You giggled and nodded. “I’ve never seen this side of you Yeonjun, laughing and making jokes. I wanna see it more.” She smiled “Do you need help changing your shirt? You know cause your arms and everything.” You spoke.

You asked that cause you wanted to tease him a little bit. You should’ve known he liked you from the way he tried to act around you. He doesn’t act all nonchalant around Beomgyu he acts silly and only switches to that nonchalant way when he sees you. He’s so young you just know someone probably told him girls like guys that act that way so he thought he would try with you.

Yeonjun looked at your eyes his opening wide as he gulped and looked at the shirt. He wanted to say no, not cause he doesn’t want her to touch him but out of nerves but lucky his mouth said the exact opposite. “Yes!.. I-..um you can change my shirt.” He whispered handing you back the shirt. You smiled and took the shirt and his hand leading him to the bathroom right next to you both and turning the light on facing him resting your butt on the counter. You put the clean shirt on the counter and put both your hands on his waist. You rubbed down his waist till you got to the him of his shirt slowly bringing the shirt up and over his head.

His heart was pounding so hard he was scared you would hear but of course that was stupid to think, he was just so nervous. And worst of all getting turned on. It was only worse cause he didn’t want you to see his growing boner and be disgusted by him. Even though honestly he’d be even more turned on with you being disgusted by him.

You tossed his shirt in the laundry basket looking at his chest. “Look at that, do you work out?” You spoke. “Y-yes..sometimes.” He spoke bringing his hands to his side trying to act normal. You gasped with a smile getting closer. “Can I touch?” You smiled devilishly looking him up and down seeing his bulge and staring at it for a moment before looking back up and meeting his gaze. He almost could breathe bringing his hand together and twisting his fingers. “Um.. yes! You can. But t-touch what?” He shuddered. “You’re abs silly what else?” You teased smiling brightly moving your hand and rubbing over his abs awning in amazement. “Wow.” You rubbed up to his pecs immediately going to his nipple lightly grazing it looking at his face for a reaction.

He let out a soft groan and quickly took his lip into his mouth feeling embarrassed at his noise. “S-sorry! I shouldn’t have made that noise. I-I..I..” He stuttered feeling your hand starting to move more quickly over his nipple even giving it a pinch. “Agh! Y/n!” You giggled at his reaction and pulled away. “I didn’t know you’d be so easy to get worked up.” You looked him up and down. “Makes you even more cuter.” You grabbed the clean shirt unfolded it and opened the shirt pulling it over his head.

You decide to act like you didn’t see his probably painful erection even though he has to know you did. He was panting quietly looking at you with lustful eyes. “It's probably time you go it’s getting late. I’ll meet you at the door. Excuse me.” You spoke walking out very close to him so your hips rubbed against his boner. His eyes rolled and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe what just happened. You just played with his nipple, and he wanted more. He wanted you to tease his nipples while riding him. He wanted you to force him to cum inside of you, he wanted so badly for you to slap him around and pitch his nipples more. He wanted so much! But he was so nervous to even suggest doing anything, and you seemed to only wanna tease him. He snapped out of his daze walked to the front door and saw you holding his backpack and skateboard. “Th-thank you.” He spoke taking it from you and slinging the backpack on his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Hey, don’t ride that thing home, just walk. And I won’t tell Beomgyu how you ate concrete.” You joked opening the door. Yeonjun nodded and smiled a little gripping his skateboard tightly. “Okay, I won’t. Thank you again for patching me up and stuff.” He spoke softly with a smile. You smiled and kissed his cheek holding the door for him. He turned and started walking out before turning back to you. “Oh, and you’re cute too.” He smirked and looked at her before turning back and walking away quickly. You blushed slightly and chuckled and waved him bye. “Thank you.” You closed the door when he got further smiling to yourself.

When Yeonjun made it home, he went straight to his room plopping himself face-first on the bed and laying on his stomach. He touched his cheek and smiled thinking about how you just kissed his cheek and how he wished you had kissed him more and somewhere else. He put his face back on the bed His hips involuntarily humping the mattress as his mind kept racing with more than just the kiss.

He found himself now humping his bed hungrily closing his eyes and imagining you were right there with him. Running your hand through his hair, watching him pathetically trying to cum from dry humping his bed. “Look at that, and you want to fuck me, I bet you’ll barely last humping your bed.” You whispered. His eyes squeezed tight imagining that, his mind was racing so much he imagined if you’d be sweet about it. “Come on, Yeonjun. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on yourself from this, I know it’ll be so cute!”

He whimpered moving his hips faster his hand sliding under his chest to tease his nipple pinching it. “You’re so fucking gross getting off to me like this.” You spoke with a disgusted face. “That feels good doesn’t it pretty baby! Keep going till you cum all over for me.” Yeonjun couldn’t keep a straight thought just wanting to be inside of you. He knows you’d feel so good. He nodded at his thoughts pushing his top half off the bed and grabbing a pillow pulling it under his stomach and hugging it tightly his hips still moving harshly to rub against his bed.

He now imagined he was fucking you, his face nuzzled into your breast with your legs wrapped around him. “Fuck me stupid slut, I know you can do better!” He started shaking feeling like he was really inside of you trying to move his hips at a pace he’d hope you’d like. “Ugh! you’re amazing pretty baby!” “Does It feel good!? I love you!” He whispered and cried out into his pillow. He squeezed the pillow tighter and hated it wasn’t her. “I want you! I want you so bad! You feel so good.” He cried feeling the warmth in his stomach becoming stronger he was getting closer with each thrust against the bed. “Then give me all your cum you pathetic bitch.” “I want you to! Cum in me please!”

“Okay..okay…I’m cumming! I love you y/n! I love you!” He moaned loudly as the warmth in his stomach despised with a snap sending a wave right through his stomach and body cum shooting out and running into his underwear. He pushed his face into the pillow to muffle his moans kicking his feet up and down. “Agh…fuck..oh my gosh.” He whimpered hugging the pillow tightly and slowing his hips down. “Good job Yeonjun! You did so well!” He rested his head on the pillow for a moment letting himself slowly come down to reality.

After a couple of minutes, he sat up fully and looked at the wet spot he had created with a sigh, thinking about how it was such a waste he couldn’t give the cum to you. He looked at the pillow rolling his eye and pushing it away, he probably looked stupid laying here really imagining he was having sex with you when that would never happen.

Yeonjun is one of your brother, Beomgyu best friend, he’s also one of your neighbors. You think he could be a sweet boy but you swear he doesn’t like you. As long as him and Beomgyu have been friends he’s barley spoken a word to you and always looks like he rather not speak to you. You usually just smile and not talk since he does the same but seeing him covered in blood like this makes your heart drop.

You pouted walking to him quickly closing the door behind yourself. “He’s Asleep…Did you fall?” You asked. He looked down like he was trying hard to hold his tears after a second looking back up to meet you eyes. He slowly nodded and couldn’t help tears rushing out his eyes. “It hurts..” He whimpered. You quickly pulled the backpack off his shoulder placing it on a hook before grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen table. “This is why I always tell you and Beomgyu not to skate around when it starts getting dark.” You whispered making him sit at the kitchen table.

Yeonjun whimpered looking down and playing with his fingers hearing you quickly moving. You got a wet towel and grabbed some bandaids you saw in a drawers and came back placing them on the table and gently grabbing his arm. “You didn’t break anything right?” You whispered moving his arm back and forth. “No.” He spoke . You nodded “Good. Cause I don’t know how to fix that.” You giggled to yourself before getting serious and starting to clean the blood off his arm.

“Tell me what happened? Why did you come here instead of going to your house.” He looked away swallowing starting to feel embarrassed.

Yeonjun hated that he cried infront of you just now. He likes you and wants you to think he’s cool and nonchalant. He thinks you’ll like that. He has a huge crush on you but you’re his best friend sister, and he’s not sure how Beomgyu will feel about that. And also you’re older then him, so you probably think he’s still childish. For this reason he knows you too can never be real but that doesn’t stop him from liking you.

You looked up to his face sighing at his glossy eyes bringing a hand to help whip his tears. “I’m sorry that happened.” You spoke pulling your hand away and grabbing a bandage. “Luckily I think it’s just small scratches, just a lot of blood.” She spoke. After a couple dozen decorated bandaids and a towel covers In blood you had coverd all his scratches. His arms almost covered in bandaids.

“There, good as new.” You smiled looking at his face finally. He quickly looked away then at his arms. “Thank you..” He whispered. You smiled and then gasped pushing his hair from his temple. It was a small scratch and a small amount of blood but it stil worried you. Yeonjun looked at you and could help his cheeks getting red at you staring at his face being so close. “W-What is it?” “You’re bleeding, let me see.” You spoke getting closer to his face and moving his hair out the way grabbing the towel and gently dabbing the area.

He tried to stay calm but his heart was beating fast his breath was hitching as he breathed he didn’t know what to do but just hold his breath as you whipped the blood away. “It’s a tiny cut it won’t leave a scar.” You spoke quietly grabbing a bandaid having to back away for second as you hear Yeonjun release the breath he was holding. You looked at him then back to his cut opening the bandaid. “Did it hurt?” You questioned. He shook his head looking down. You nodded putting the bandaid on the scratch looking down at his face. His plump lips red from licking his tears away, his nose tip red from all his tears. You awed in how cute he looked like this. Of course it sad he was crying but you never seen him so vulnerable. “You look so cute.” You blurted out with a giggle poking his nose.

He blinked and looked at you, just then you noticed how red his cheeks where. You awed even more bring his hair back down over his bandaid. He stayed silent then finally spoke. “Y-You think?” He whispered “But I was just crying, don’t women not like when men cry?” You rolled your eyes at his words. “Whoever told you that just wants you to not get any woman.” You giggled. “And, I know your where crying and all but I never seen you look more adorable.” He smiled alittle looked away. “Thank you..”

You nodded. “I’ll got steal you one of Beomgyu shirts and send you off home for the night. Don’t want you to go home too late.” You spoke patting his shoulder and walking away heading upstairs.

Yeonjun looked at you go then started looking around slowly standing up. “She called me cute!” He giggled walking to the mirror in their walk way and looking at himself fixing his hair and whipped his mouth. “I’ll see you later, your cute too.” He spoke to himself into the mirror then shook his head “You’re more then cute, you’re beautiful.” He whispered. “No, I should have said that earlier. Uh if you think I’m cute now, imagine how cute I’ll when…I can’t say that.” He giggled covering his mouth. He kept whispering to himself in the mirror about what he would say to you before he left until he heard you clear your throat.

You had came back down stairs and where standing watching and listening to him for a couple minutes. “I got your shirt. You know you could have just told me I’m cute.” You chuckled walking to him and handing him the shirt. His face was glowing red as he took the shirt. “Yeah..Your right, I just wanted to make sure I sounded cool, ya know.” He mumbled looking away. You giggled and nodded. “I’ve never seen this side of you Yeonjun, laughing and making jokes. I wanna see it more.” She smiled “Do you need help changing your shirt? You know cause your arms and everything.” You spoke.

You asked that cause you wanted to tease him alittle bit. You should’ve know he liked you from the way he tried to acts around you. He doesn’t act all nonchalant around Beomgyu he acts like a silly guy, and only switches that way when he see a you. He’s so young you just know someone probably told him girls like guys that act that way.

Yeonjun looked at eyes opened wide as he gulped and looked at the shirt. He wanted to say no, not cause he doesn’t want her to touch him but out of nerves but lucky his mouth said the exact opposite. “Yes!.. I-..um you can change my shirt.” He whispered handing you back the shirt. You smiled and took the shirt and his hand leading him to the bathroom right next to you both and turning the light on facing him resting your butt in the counter. You put the clean shirt on the counter and put both your hands on his waist. Your rubbed down his waist till you got to the hime of his shirt slowly bringing the shirt up and over his head.

His heart was pounding so hard he was scared you would hear but of course that was stupid to think, he was just so nervous. And worst off all getting turned on. It was only worse cause he didn’t want you to see his growing boner and be disgusted by him. Even though honestly he’d be even more turned on with you being disgusted by him.

You tossed his shirt in the laundry basket looking at his chest. “Look at that, do you work out?” You spoke. “Y-yes..sometimes.” He spoke bring his hands to his side trying to act normal. You gasped with a smile getting closer. “Can I touch?” You smiled devilish looking him up and down seeing his bulge and staring at it for a moment before looking back up meeting his gaze. He almost could breath bring his hand together and twisting his fingers. “Um..y-es! You can. But t-touch what?” He shuddered. “You’re abs silly what else?” You teased smiling brightly moving your hand and rubbing over his abs awning in amazement. “Wow.” You rubbed up to his pecs immediately going to his nipple lightly grazing it looking at his face for a reaction.

He let out a soft groan and quickly took his lip into his mouth feeling embarrassed at his noise. “S-sorry! I shouldn’t have made that noise. I-I..I..” He stuttered feeling you hands starting to move more quickly over his nipple even giving it a pinch. “Agh! Y/n!” You giggled at his reaction and pulled away. “I didn’t know you’d be so easy to get worked up.” You looked him up and down. “Makes you even more cuter.” You grabbed the clean shirt unfolding it and opened the shirt pulling it over his head.

You decide to act like you didn’t see his probably painful erection even though he has to know you did. He was panting quietly looking at your with lustful eyes. “Its probably time you go it’s getting late. I’ll meet you at the door. Excuse me.” You spoke walking out very closely to him so your hips rubbed against his boner. His eyes rolled and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe that just happened. You really just played with his nipple, and he wanted more. He wanted you to tease his nipples while riding him. He wanted you to force him to cum inside of you, he wanted so badly for you to slap him around and pitch his nipples more. He wanted so much! But he was so nervous to even suggest doing anything, and you seemed to only wanna tease him. He snapped out his daze walking to the front door seeing you holding his backpack and skateboard. “Th-thank you.” He spoke taking it from you slinging the backpack on his shoulder. “You’re welcome. Hey, don’t ride that thing home, just walk. And I won’t tell beomgyu how you ate concrete.” You joked opening the door. Yeonjun nodded and smiled alittle gripping his skateboard tightly. “Okay I won’t. Thank you again for patching me up and stuff.” He spoke softly with a smile. You smiled and kissed his cheek holding the door for him. He turned and started walking out before turning back to you. “Oh and you’re cute too.”he smirked and looked at before turning back and walking away quickly. You blushed slightly and chuckled and waving him bye. “Thank you.” You closed the door when he got further smiling to yourself.

When Yeonjun made it home, he went straight to his room plopping himself face first on the bed laying on his stomach. He touched his cheek and smiled thinking about how you just kissed his cheek and how he wished you had kissed him more and somewhere else. He put his face back on the bed His hips involuntarily humping the mattress as his mind kept race with more then just the kiss.

He found himself now humping his bed hungrily closing his eyes and imagining you where right there with him. Running your hand through his hair, watching him pathetically trying to cum from dry humping his bed. “Look at that, and you want to fuck me, I bet you’ll barely last humping your bed.” You whispered. His eyes squeezed tight imagining that, his mind was racing so much he imagined if you’d be sweet about it. “Come on, Yeonjun. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on yourself from this, I know it’ll be so cute!”

He now imagined he was fucking you, his face nuzzled into your breast with your legs wrapped around him. “Fuck me stupid slut, I know you can do better!” He started shaking feeling like he was really inside of you trying to move his hips at a pace he’d hope you’d like. “Ugh! you’re amazing pretty baby!” “Does It feel good!? I love you!” He whispered cried out into his pillow. He squeezed the pillow tighter and hated it wasn’t really her. “I want you! I want you so bad! You feel so good.” He cried feeling the warmth in his stomach becoming stronger he was getting closer with each thrust against the bed. “Then give me all your cum you pathetic bitch.” “I want you to! Cum in me please!”

“Okay..okay…I’m cumming! I love you y/n! I love you!” He moaned loudly as the warmth in his stomach despising with a snap sending a wave right through his stomach and body cum shooting out and running into his underwear. He pushed his face into he pillow to muffle his moans kicking his feet up and down. “Agh…fuck..oh my gosh.” He whimpered hugging the pillow tightly slowing his hips down. “Good job Yeonjun! You did so good!” He rested his head on the pillow a moment letting himself slowly come down to reality.

After a couple minutes he sat up fully and looked at the wet spot he had created with a sigh, thinking about how it was such a waste he couldn’t give the cum to you. He looked at the pillow rolling his eye and pushing it away, he probably looked stupid laying here really imagining he was having sex with you when that would never happen.

#dom!reader #sub!idol #sub!yeonjun #sub!txt #Yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #txt yeonjun x reader #txt yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fanfic #txt fanfic #dom!yeonjun

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bupia · 7 months

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30, 33, 35, 36 Papa Copia 🥹

ORGASM DENIAL

"It's not scary at all. Let me show you." "I won't hurt you." "No need to worry." "I got you."

There's a smut under the cute, +18 only, please.

(AFAB!Reader: This is my first attempt to write a Copia begging and needy for some release, I hope you all like it! dirty talk; Italian swearing; swearing; teasing; masturbation; oral sex, afab!r-m; thigh fuck)

Available on AO3

Day 22 | Day 24

"I... I don't know if I can do it..." Copia said nervously, his eyes filled with doubt.

"What? What do you mean? Of course you can do it!" you replied, your fingers gently adjusting the mitra on his head.

"But what if I fail?" he said, his hand reaching out to stop you, his grip on your wrist trembling.

You looked into his eyes with a soft smile. "What possibly could go wrong?" you asked, reassuringly. "Copia, you... you know you are perfect for this, you know you can do this."

He hesitated for a moment, uncertainty still lingering in his gaze. "No... I actually... don't..."

"Then trust me, please trust me... You will be amazing out there," you whispered, your voice filled with belief and love.

Copia removed his hands from your wrist and took a deep breath before moving to a nearby mirror to examine himself. With just 30 minutes to go before his first Black Mass as the new Papa Emeritus, his nerves were understandable. You believed in his abilities, and you knew he would be amazing, but he couldn't see it himself. The weight of being the new Papa Emeritus brought immense pressure, and it was clear that he was struggling with the expectations.

You approached him from behind, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at his reflection in the mirror. "You've got this, Copia. You're going to impress everyone out there, just like you've always done. You were born for this."

Copia met your eyes in the mirror. "I hope you're right, amore," he murmured, his voice filled with vulnerability.

You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then another. And another. Copia couldn't help but giggle at your affectionate kisses. He turned his face towards you, his lips meeting yours in a series of soft, sweet kisses. Slowly, he pivoted his body to face you more fully, cupping your cheek with his hand and deepening the kiss, your lips locking in a tender and reassuring embrace. Your hands found their way to his waist, pulling him closer to you. As you leaned in, your hands shifted to his shoulders, your arms resting on them. Copia's free hand settled on your lower back, pressing your bodies together. The embrace grew firmer, and you could feel the reassuring warmth of his touch.

"Mmm... Amore..." he softly whined against your lips, his voice filled with longing.

You slowly withdrew from the kiss, your eyes locking onto his face. That's when you noticed the black paint on his lips had smudged and turned into a grayish mess. Panic welled up inside you, and you scanned the room in search of a solution.

"W-What? What's the matter, amore?" he asked, turning toward a nearby mirror. "Ah!" He let out a scream of surprise, and you quickly covered his mouth with your hand.

"Shh, don't scream!" you giggled. "We're at the back of the Chapel; they can hear you."

Copia nodded, and you removed your hand from his mouth.

"I can fix it, don't worry," you assured him, a playful smile on your lips. "Find a place to sit."

He obediently took a seat, his eyes remaining fixed on you as you retrieved a cloth. With gentle and focused attention, you began the task of cleaning the smudged paint from his lips, the tenderness of your touch calming his jitters. However, you couldn't hold back a chuckle when you saw the area of his lips completely devoid of paint.

"What? What's so funny?" he asked, curious.

"Nothing..."

"Are you laughing at me, amore?"

"I would never, your Eminence," you teased, your voice dripping with playful affection.

Copia's hands found their way to your hips, and he gently pulled you onto his lap, settling you comfortably there.

"At least like this, I can kiss you without worrying..." he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You smiled and looked at him, a knowing smirk on his lips. Tilting your head, you closed the distance, capturing his lips in another passionate kiss, his arms holding you close. You took a deep breath, sliding your hips on top of him, drawing yourself nearer. Your arms encircled his neck, and Copia groaned as he felt the subtle friction. A sly smile graced your lips in response to his reaction, and the kiss between you deepened.

The passion intensified as your tongues met and engaged in a sensuous dance. Copia's hands held your hips securely, his grinding movements adding to the growing intensity of your embrace. You pressed your body tightly against his, ensuring the perfect alignment of your figures. A low growl escaped Copia's lips, and you could feel the undeniable evidence of his desire pressing against your core.

You immediately pulled back, a sense of urgency overriding the passionate desire that had ignited between you. It wasn't the right time or place for such intimacy.

"Amore..." Copia called for you, his voice low and filled with longing.

"No, we don't have time for that. Let me fix your paint," you said, determined to refocus on the task at hand. You walked toward one of the tables where his makeup supplies were.

Copia's voice was pleading as he approached you. "No..."

He caught up to you, standing close behind. "Per favore... for your Papa, it would mean so much to him..."

"Copia, you're going on there in just 20 minutes, and we can't do it here," you replied, trying to maintain control of the situation.

But then you felt his hand on your hips from behind, his body pressing against yours. He began to rub himself against your backside, his longing palpable.

"Per favore..." he whispered, his desire evident.

"Copia..." you breathed, feeling how hard he was, the temptation growing stronger, even in the face of time constraints.

"Per favore, amore... help me cum... That would definitely help me to calm down..." Copia pleaded, his voice thick with desire.

You chuckled and turned to face him. "Cum would help you calm down? Since when?"

"Since forever... Per favore... It'll be quick, we can be quick..."

"Oh, can we?" you teased, your voice playful.

"Sì, sì," he replied, his hands sliding up your thighs, gently lifting your habit. "I can be quick, I promise."

You chuckled, taking his hands to stop him. "From our past experiences, I don't think 'quick' is in our vocabulary, Copia."

"Amore mio...!" he exclaimed in frustration.

You chuckled and playfully scolded him, "Stop being a crybaby. Return to your chair and let me fix your lips, okay?"

Copia huffed but pressed himself against you, still seeking the desired friction. "What if I don't want to?"

"Then you'll go out there looking like a Papa Panda," you teased, managing to extricate yourself from his grasp. "Chair!" you pointed to the seat he had occupied before.

Copia grumbled but complied, taking his place in the chair as you prepared to correct his makeup, both of you still longing for the moments that could not be in that rushed context. Unfortunately. But, to be fair, you two could do something in 20 minutes or less.

"Thank you," you said, your tone affectionate. "You're a very good Papa."

You heard Copia's soft whine in response to your words, a mix of frustration and desire still lingering in the air.

"You want it that badly, Copia?" you asked, pouting slightly as you regarded him.

"Sì, so much..." he replied, his voice filled with longing. He pulled his robe aside, revealing the noticeable bulge in his lap. "Look, amore, look at what you do to me... It's not scary at all. Let me show you what you did to me."

You turned your gaze to the evident bulge in his pants, trying to maintain a composed expression and not reveal how much it affected you too.

"I can see it," you said, your tone calm and deliberate.

Copia's gasp was filled with desire as he reached for the bulge in his pants. "And you... don't want it...?"

You took a deep breath, maintaining your resolve. "We don't have time for that now, Papa," you said, your voice gently teasing.

"But amore, would you really let me stay stressed in these pants?" Copia asked, his tone indignant.

You couldn't help but laugh out loud, quickly placing a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Stop!" you exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "Be a good Papa for me, and stop with that."

Copia sighed deeply but continued to tease himself, his fingers brushing over the bulge in his pants. He traced it with his hand, gripping it firmly, and his pleasure was evident in his expression. He was attempting to tempt you, but it was clearly a game for both of you. With a sly grin, you moved in his direction, swiftly sitting on his lap and making sure to press against the bulge. Copia let out a surprised squeak and threw his head back with a soft groan. Your lips hovered close to his ear, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Will you be a good Papa for me, Copia?" you whispered, your voice sultry and teasing.

"Sì, sì..." Copia whispered, his voice filled with desire. "No need to worry."

"Good boy..." you purred, planting a kiss on his neck. "Now look at me, or I can't fix it."

Copia turned his face toward you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the appreciation in his gaze for being called a good boy. A wicked smile played on your lips as you began to sensually move your hips on his lap, granting him the friction he so desperately desired. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a pleasured sigh.

"Amore... you are..."

"I am...?" you prompted, your voice teasing.

"Nothing..."

"Good Papa," you chuckled, your fingers gently guiding his chin to face you. "Look into my eyes..." you whispered.

Copia locked his gaze with yours, his breath hitching as you continued to grind your hips against his lap, drawing closer to him. He moaned, and you quickly placed your hand over his mouth.

"Copia... Behave... I'm just adjusting my position so I can see the details better."

"Mi... Mi dispiace..." he breathed, his apology filled with longing.

You planted a gentle kiss on Copia's forehead before resuming your task of redoing his makeup. You started with the contours of the white parts, carefully applying the pigments. It was a bit challenging since Copia had started to sweat, which didn't help the paint adhere properly. With your thumb, you wiped away the beads of sweat from his philtrum, brushing it slightly on his upper lip.

Copia parted his lips, allowing your finger to slip inside his mouth, and he began to suck on it sensually, his eyes locked onto yours with a seductive glint. You couldn't help but chuckle at Copia's frustration as you removed your finger from inside his mouth. However, the playful moment took a more sensual turn as his hands found their way to your hips.

He began to move his hips in sync with yours, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. The mounting arousal between you was undeniable, and Copia's desperation was evident as he started to grind his hips faster against yours. Soft groans of pleasure escaped his lips, filling the air with desire and anticipation.

"Per favore... touch me..." Copia begged, his voice laced with desperation and longing.

In the heated and intimate atmosphere, you both lost yourselves in the moment. Your hands explored each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of skin. Copia's hand moved lower, trailing down to your ass, his fingers caressing the curves of your cheeks.

"Touch me... I need you to touch me..." he implored, his desire evident in his voice and touch.

You shook your head and swiftly rose from his lap, leaving Copia to sigh as the source of his momentary enjoyment vanished. You then turned away from him and made your way to the table to retrieve another component of his makeup. Suddenly, you felt his body pressing against yours, his hands finding their way to your hips, coaxing them closer as he pressed himself against you.

"Or let me touch you..."

"I believe you're already touching me, Papa," you replied.

"But I need more," he admitted. "I need so much more..."

"Do you, Copia? What is it that you desire?" you inquired.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice low and intense. "On the table," he rubbed himself against your backside as he groaned", "without your habit," and again, "completely mine..."

His words quickened your heartbeat, and an uncontrollable desire surged within you. You yearned for him to take you in that very moment, yet you resisted the temptation. Instead, you spun around to confront him, with a plan in mind.

You discreetly reached under your habit, slipped off your underwear, and held it in your hand before tossing it in his direction. As you brushed your hips against the table's edge, you confidently seated yourself on it, positioning your legs apart, invitingly.

"Is this what you desire, my Papa?" you inquired, tilting your head to the side, a provocative look in your eyes.

"Sì," he moaned, his voice heavy with desire.

"Do you wish to touch me here?" you inquired, your tone teasing.

With deliberate slowness, you reached for your wetness that had been building up ever since Copia's declaration of his desire, parting the folds to reveal yourself. Copia emitted a guttural growl as his eyes feasted on your exposed flesh. Your fingers sensually caressed your clit, and his gaze locked onto your eyes, filled with unbridled lust. Copia licked his lips, his eyes transfixed on your movements. His breathing became labored, and his face reddened as he neared the orgasm.

In a hurried frenzy, he discarded his mitra, casting it to the floor, and swiftly shed his robes. Desperation in his eyes, he advanced toward you, his hands already working to undo his pants. You observed intently as his hands skillfully liberated his desire, his unwavering gaze locked onto yours. A sensual moan escaped your lips as his member was unveiled, and you could feel yourself growing even wetter, the vivid imagery of him entering you fueling your desire.

"Copia," you whispered, rising from the table.

You walked towards him, your eyes never leaving his. You reached him first, and took hold of his shaft, stroking it slowly. He moaned at your touch and you bit your lower lip.

"Will you ever be a good Papa for me?" you inquired, your fingers from your free hand tracing a tantalizing path along his chest.

"Never..." he responded, his hands finding their way to your hips, pulling you closer, the hunger in his eyes intensifying.

"Never?" you repeated as you slowly sank to your knees. "I didn't like that answer, Papa," you stated, your gaze locked onto his, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

You leaned forward, your tongue teasing the tip of his throbbing length. His sharp gasp echoed in the room as you enveloped him with your warm, wet mouth, savoring the taste of his precum. Gradually, you took him deeper, relishing the sensations, until you felt his body tense.

"Easy... Easy..." he begged, his voice strained with desire.

You withdrew him from your mouth, meeting his intense gaze. "I thought you wanted some release."

"I... I do... But I like to savor the moment..." he confessed, his eyes smoldering with longing. "I like to feel you..."

Returning your attention to his length, you resumed your tantalizing ministrations. His breath came in rapid succession, punctuated by sharp gasps, as you began to suck him once more. Your skilled tongue swirled around his shaft, ensuring not a single inch was left untouched, each movement designed to stoke his escalating pleasure.

"Oh... Cazzo..." he moaned, his voice growing louder. "What a delicious mouth you have, amore... Just not better than your pussy..."

He seized your head, and his unspoken request was clear. You began to take all of him, causing him to clench your hair and cry out in ecstasy. Your gaze met his, and you mustered a smile through the intensity of the moment. His legs quivered, and he gripped your hair even tighter, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasant view.

"That's it..." he breathed, his voice filled with desire. "Don't stop."

You continued to suck him, your eagerness to savor every inch of him evident. He placed both of his hands on your head, guiding you down further. However, you pulled back, a playful smile dancing in your eyes as you stood up.

"W...What...?" he panted, his need evident. "Did I hurt you, amore? Mi dispiace, I won't hurt you, per favore... more."

You took a step closer to him, holding his member in your hand. Placing it between your thighs, you allowed it to nestle between your folds. Copia whimpered and quickly clutched your waist, unable to contain his longing. You lifted your habit high enough to grant him a tantalizing view of where your bodies met. Copia's gaze fell to the erotic tableau, and he growled in response, his desire intensifying.

"Do you want to fuck me, Papa?" you whispered.

"I want, amore," he confessed.

You smiled and then carefully lowered yourself onto him, guiding his length between your softness, letting it glide over your sensitive clit. Soft moans escaped your lips, and his eyes briefly closed as he relished the sensation. You wrapped one arm around his neck, drawing him closer, and he responded by encircling your waist, keeping you in a close, intimate embrace.

"You are so wet..." he whispered, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. "So eagerly anticipating my touch, sì?"

"Always..." you replied, your voice filled with longing.

You let out a soft moan, your hand moving to caress his hair, your fingers gliding through the strands. As desire overcame you, you started to rock your hips, a rhythmic motion that slid him between your thighs. His fingers clenched around your waist, and his teeth were gritted, the intensity of the moment consuming both of you.

"Mmmm... Papa..." you purred, your gaze locked onto his with a mix of desire and longing.

You quickened your movements, grinding your hips against his length, feeling him grow even harder with each passionate encounter. You were dripping with desire, and you squeezed every inch of his member, milking it for all its worth. The overwhelming sensations proved too much for him, and he began thrusting faster, releasing loud, primal groans of pleasure. You drew him closer to you, your hips moving with increasing urgency, grinding your sensitive core against his pulsating length. The sensation sent shivers through your body, and in response, he held onto you even more tightly.

"I got you..." he whispered, his voice filled with love and desire.

"Always so attentive..." you whispered in response.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, gently nipping at your skin. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. As his bite grew firmer, you cried out, your nails digging into his back. When he released his bite, a mix of pain and pleasure escaped your lips in a sensuous cry. The twitching of his length between your thighs only intensified your arousal, driving you to new heights of desire.

"Amore..." he murmured.

"Yes, Copia?" you replied, gazing deeply into his eyes.

"I need to fuck you... I can't resist the urge to be inside you."

Copia gently lifted your leg, resting it on his hip, and sought your consent with his intense gaze. You nodded in agreement, and a moan escaped your lips as you felt him slowly enter you, filling you completely. Your eyes closed as his length stretched your inner walls, an overwhelming sensation of connection enveloping you.

"Cazzo..." he moaned, closing his eyes. "Your pussy is unquestionably superior to anything else..."

You bit your lip, attempting to stifle a moan, savoring the incredible sensation of having him inside you. It was undeniably one of the most exquisite feelings he always offered you. However, you reluctantly pulled away from him, your eyes darting to the wall clock, a reminder that time was of the essence.

"It's time to go, Papa," you stated, releasing your habit.

"No, amore mio, no, per favore... no," he pleaded.

"Did you forget what you told me?" you asked.

"What?" he replied, confused.

You sighed, pretending to be coy. "You said you would never be a good Papa for me... That's a shame."

"Amore mio, per favore, I need to cum..."

"You will cum if you promise me that you'll be a good Papa," you assured, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I... I promise..." he stammered.

"So after the black mass, find me in your chambers. I'll be waiting for you there, so wet, so heated, so ready... And you'll fuck me until I scream your name."

"You can be sure I'm going to fuck you until every wicked thought in that devious mind of yours vanishes," he declared.

You shivered as his intense gaze fixated on you during his words. He proceeded to retrieve his mitra at the floor while trying to tuck himself back into his pants. Then, he donned his robe and replaced his mitra on his head. Walking back to you, he planted a kiss on your cheek, marking you with his dark lips.

"Ti amo," he whispered.

"I love you too," you replied, your affection for him evident in your response. "Now go, they are waiting for you."

Seeing him nod, you watched as he made his way to the door and entered the chapel. Eagerly, you swiftly headed for another entrance, preparing to join the congregation through the main door, your anticipation building for what awaited after the black mass.

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