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darklordofthesimp · 9 months

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Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia.

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie.

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible.

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him.

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you.

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job.

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds.

It meant that he was also a victim.

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you.

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you.

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other.

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.”

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles.

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to.

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage.

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly.

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks.

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm.

But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to.

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid.

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?”

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates.

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.”

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end.

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.”

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you.

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it.

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever.

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you.

“Okay.”

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile.

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not.

You knew that you’d want to see it again.

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.”

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.”

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his.

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?”

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat.

“Ready?” You stammered.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much.

You tried not to remember.

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now.

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy.

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms.

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns.

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress.

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?”

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.”

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?”

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity.

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had.

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head.

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim.

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him.

Satisfaction flooded your being.

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could.

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you.

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.”

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage.

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath.

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur.

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside.

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.”

You watched him carefully.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered.

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery.

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play.

Maybe, both?

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?”

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours.

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful.

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it.

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to.

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.”

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?”

You hated how perfectly still he was.

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air.

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs.

Your heart dropped.

Overthinking?

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent.

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?”

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.”

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away.

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care.

How could he just dismiss you like that?

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out?

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.”

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you.

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him.

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy.

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.”

“Listen to me-”

“Let it go, Birdy.”

“But if you just-”

“Enough!”

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin.

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet.

Fear trickled down your spine.

Your heart dropped.

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

König wasn’t going to help you.

König was in on it.

#konig x reader #König x reader #König #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty #Modern Warfare 2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #COD MW2 #cod mw2 x reader

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organicxslime · 7 months

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☆how they bagged you (gojo, geto, nanami, toji)☆

「GOJO」 wriggled his way into your heart with the power of sweets. He figured out pretty early on that you had a sweet tooth as rotten as he did, so he used it to his advantage, inviting you to try out new cafes and bakeries that cropped up in cities where he was going on missions. Each time you'd accompany him to one of these establishments, he'd promptly show off, flashing a platinum bank card that sounded an expensive, metallic clang as he tossed it on the counter, buying quite literally every single dessert you had your eye on with no regard for the cost. He's fairly certain he accidentally spent $400 in a single bakery once. He finally bagged you by taking you to an upscale cafe and having the waitress bring out the fluffiest, most intricately decorated cake they could possibly produce, looping cursive on the top spelling out “will you be my girlfriend?"

(In all honesty, you don't have enough room in your stomach for the sheer amount of sweets that he buys you, but his students certainly enjoy it when you slip them whatever mountain of dessert you have left over.)

「GETO」 gently coaxes you into loving him with his sweet, quiet voice and honeyed words. He noticed within a few weeks of meeting you that you seemed to stand at rapt attention whenever he spoke, and it didn’t take a genius to know that you liked his voice. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like this - there had been others before who complimented his voice, saying he had a soft, kind tone that was pleasant to listen to - and he knew he could use it to his advantage. He intentionally makes himself sound quieter and more agreeable when he speaks to you, lovingly praising you and complimenting you for the smallest of things. you can’t help but swoon each time he greets you in that lyrical tone, and when he finally asks you on a date , you melt at how hopeful and sweet his voice sounds.

(later, when that same voice is murmuring filthy things into your ear, you’ll be silently reaffirming to yourself that he was absolutely the right choice.)

「NANAMI」 won you over by being the perfect gentleman. He's not one for dirty tricks or flashy displays of affection - he finds these things repulsive. No, he's going to take a much more classic route with it. It starts with little things - a shared smile here and there, complimenting you often, and making sure to stop by and greet vou everv morning at work. From there, he'll graduate to more direct methods, like inviting you to dinner and remembering your exact coffee order to surprise vou with the next morning. As your bond grows, so do his advances, and he finds himself arriving to work an hour early to slip sweet hand-written notes into our desk. Eventually he surprises you with a bouquet of red roses, chastely asking you out on a date, and you're so smitten you can't imagine a world where you would say no.

(You like his methods, but in all fairness he could have taken you on a date to a 7/11 and you still would've been drooling over him afterwards. For the sake of your standards, though, the romantic gestures were entirely necessary.)

「TOJI」 snaked his way into your heart by shamelessly using his body. You were gym buddies, and he had noticed before how your eyes lingered on his body, watching beads of sweat roll off of his glistening pecs and paying particularly close attention to the way his back flexed when he would lift. He began teasing you, making you sit on his toned back as he did pushups, giving you a front row seat to every contraction of his rolling muscles. He'd have you help him tape up for support, too - smoothing the athletic tape over his thick legs and reaching around his basketball-sized biceps to bind up his elbows drove you absolutely wild. At one point, you're pressing his feet to the floor while he does sit-ups, and all of a sudden he leans up further than ever before, leaning into your face and catching you by the lips. Amused, you ask him what that was for, and he says he'll explain himself - but only if you'll let him take you out to dinner.

(You knew damn well what he was up to - but you're just as depraved as he is, and knew a solid opportunity to feel up on a buff man when you saw it. You're so down bad you didn't even care that he asked you to pay for dinner.)

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader

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cocteaucherry · 2 months

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nanami x f!reader

(little thing I wrote about Nanami’s wife being insecure after the birth of their daughter)

cws- f!reader, self doubt, body insecurity, bodily fluids, p in v (unprotected), oral f!receiving, lacatation kink, nipple play, 18+, light postpartum depression, body worship, creampie

You hated the way you looked.

You stared in the mirror analyzing and observing your post birth body, the way your stomach pudge began to droop, the abundance of stretch marks coating your sides, your breasts full and aching adding to your sheer discomfort.

You adored your daughter, loved her with every fiber of your being but when the lights turned off you were left alone with your thoughts and the body you were convinced was destroyed.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your darling husband of course, he’d watch you heavily over analyze yourself as you pulled on your pajamas for the night. The way you’d wince when your rough feeling shirt clipped the underside of your sensitive breasts.

Nanami wasn't dumb, the way your face filled with worry when he proposed you have a date night just the two of you but quickly made the excuse of not going through the trouble.

“Hey sweetheart, just put her down for the night.. well for a few hours.” He smirked, rubbing his tired eyes.

You were laid on the bed in an oversized purple nightgown, you could wear a trash bag and he’d still find you to be the most ravishing woman he’s ever seen.

“That’s great, let’s get some sleep while we still can.” You said with a small yawn as Nanami crawled on the bed next to you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist causing you to wince quietly.

“Did I do something?” Nanami asked gazing up at you through his eyelashes as he took your hand in his.

“Do..” you sighed, beginning to feel the onslaught of tears form, “D-Do you still find me attractive..?” The words came out as more of a quiet plea than a question.

Nanami stared at you with an astonished look, eyes blown wide as he gripped your hand a little tighter, “Sweetheart..”

Hearing him say your name softly made you begin to sob, “Y/N, why do you not know how beautiful you are?” He pressed kisses to your knuckles keeping eye contact with you.

“I-I don’t feel it anymore..” sniffles came from you as you tried to wipe your tears, “I’m bigger now.. I have more stretch marks, I feel and look tired all the time.. and my stupid boobs hurt,” a hurt chuckle came from you as you tilted your head back.

“Sweetie.. are you aware you just birthed our beautiful daughter a month ago?” Nanami smiled softly, sitting up to caress the side of your face, “Your body is still as beautiful and amazing as it was before.” His calloused thumb wiping the stray tears away.

“K-Kento-“

He shushed you quickly before placing a soft kiss on your chapped lips, “Let me show you how beautiful you are..”

All of a sudden Nanami’s hands lifted your soft nightgown above your aching tits, his mouth then began to leave messy wet kisses on your neck.

You let out soft mewls as his rough hands palmed and squeezed at your tender breasts, beads of soft white milk dribbling out.

Nanami smirked against your neck as he dragged his lips to your cleavage, “I never want you to forget why I fell in love with you,” he hummed wrapping his lips around one of the hardened buds, his tongue graced over the bud as the smooth milk dribbled out.

“K-Ken, fuckkk,” you moaned as your hands found home in his blonde hair, gripping at the roots. His hands worked at your breasts as his lips moved on to the other bud.

He pulled off your breasts with an audible pop! As his head moved to your inner thighs, “I’ll never stop loving you, and if I do shoot me dead angel.” Nanami grinned as he saw you smile lightly, he nipped at the inner corners of your thighs slowly moving towards your panty clad cunt.

Soft kisses were placed where your clit was covered, “Think I can make you squirt through your panties?” Nanami groaned as he inhaled your scent leaving kitten licks on the damp fabric.

“Ken, please don’t tease!” You squeaked as his fingers worked on your clothed clit, Nanami’s teeth nipped at your thighs as his hips grinded into the mattress below.

“Wan’ kiss you to know kiss how beautiful kiss you are,” Nanami looked gorgeous between your legs, hair tousled, pupils blown as his fingers worked delicately.

Your back arched as you felt his tongue ghost over your clit, a whine fell from your lips as Nanami wrapped his lips over your clit. “Let go for me angel..” he hummed as the coil snapped in your belly and your panties soaked. “Fuckk, such a good girl f’ me.”

He placed one last kiss on your thigh before he sat up and began to gently palm himself through his boxers, the whole image was erotic as precum stained his boxers.

“See what you do to me angel?” He gripped his hardened cock through the fabric, “Please give me me a chance to fuck you dumb tonight.”

“K-Ken fuck!” Moans fell from your mouth as your husband continued to pound into your weeping pussy,

“Sucking me in so good, shit,” Nanami grunted out as he lifted your leg onto his shoulder planting a small kiss on your ankle, “Never thrust forget how fucking beautiful thrust you are.” He groaned out feeling your gummy walls begin to contract around him.

“‘M gonna cum Ken!” Your toes curled as you felt him speed up his thrusts, “D-do it you got it baby,” his hand came to rub quick tight circles on your clit as your walls clamped around his cock causing him to still.

“Ohhh fuck! That’s my good girl,” his voice sounded raspy as he buried himself deeper into you spilling his seed.

Pants came from both of you as he leaned over to place multiple kisses on your forehead, there was a calm silence that followed after before it was broken by Nanami.

“I never want you to forget how much of a goddamn goddess you are,”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujustu kaisen smut

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undercoverpena · 1 month

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going to make you sweat

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: it's the hottest day of the year; you and javi want to make it hotter.

rating: 18+/explicit warnings: explicit smut. somewhat established relationship. jo's spelling, jo putting to practice her spanish. wordcount: 1.9k

It begins with the sound of the fan.

Whirring. Whirring. Blowing nothing but warm, sticky heat around the over-boiled place.

For four days, the sun has been beating down relentlessly, acting as another unforgiving tyrant ruling over Colombia, forcing waves of heat to seep into homes, regardless of whether doors and windows are closed.

All but forcing everyone to seek refuge from the scorching onslaught.

It's why he's home.

It's why you didn't protest when his hand found your lower back, guiding you out to the passenger seat of his vehicle.

The unspoken understanding between you both fizzes in the air. All silence, discreet.

Just like the rest of the clandestine nature of your relationship.

Now, you’re lying as still as possible. Not even considering sliding your leg over to touch his—even if usually, you’d have done it a handful of times.

Cool showers offered no relief—your skin was already slick with dampness before you finished drying off. Every movement made the heat feel unbearable, trickling down your neck. Your limited attire, stuffed in a spare drawer at his, offers no relief; the white tee and panties cling to your skin, feeling like additional layers you long to peel away from your bones, not just your skin.

Your eyes flick towards him at the sound of his lighter—at the paper burning at the end, before the scent greets your nostrils.

Normally, it would barely irritate you, but now it twists your annoyance into a knot and uses it to fuel its fury. A glare not forcing him to stub it out, your mood souring, further making beads of perspiration collect along your collarbone and drip down the valley of your breasts, all but pooling where your body bends and creases as you remain on the sofa.

You can feel him watching.

Eyes likely following the path of sweat descending under your top—because even in unbelievable temperatures, you’re sure he’s mentally undressing you.

Because he looks wrecked, even with the cigarette burning between his fingers/.

Javier Peña's usually put-together look of swept-to-the-side hair is currently stuck damp to his forehead as sweat drips off the end of his sloped nose. The look is so reminiscent of what you’d imagine he'd look like if he had a full free day to fuck you; if it wasn’t rushed quickies or long, drawn-out nights before the two of you collapsed into sheets before doing it all over again on three hours of sleep.

At some point between coming home early and sitting beside you, his barely buttoned shirt has been discarded, leaving him in a pair of shorts he’d pulled on when he’d been grumbling about the fucking heat, paperwork and bureaucracy all in the space of a minute.

The fact he'd shed most of his layers allows you to trace your eyes down his body. Glance at the soft curve of his stomach, the firmness of his chest and those biceps you see flex when he’s leaning when he’s doing all he can not to flick his eyes from your face to your tits.

He's already caught you.

Taking a drag on his cigarette for a suspiciously long time before blowing the smoke out in one smooth movement. Eyes on you. Fixed. Never unfocused.

And fuck, if it doesn’t make you want him that much more.

“It’s too hot.”

“I said nothing.”

You snort. Loud. Full of intent.

Mind a scrambled mess of want, as your hips shift when your eyes flick south of his neck and land on his thighs.

“C’mon, Cariño,” he drawls, stubbing out his cigarette—punching the lit end out until it’s snuffed, “Come sit on my lap.”

A battle ensures in your skull. It’s weak, both the for and against, which is how you find yourself straddling him, palm flat to your thighs—finding the heat from his body no more intense than the sweltering environment around you.

“This what you want, me all sweaty on you?”

He chews his cheek, a glint in the dark of his eyes, a blip in the pool of desire—and your heart pounds in your chest. Breaths coming in short gasps, matching the rhythm of the fan in the corner.

"I'd have you on top of me however I can."

"Course you would," you retort.

His fingers flex, itch. Sneak in inches up your skin as he continues to breathe slowly, in and out, out and in.

You’re not sure who moves first, but your lips find his—passionate, fiery. Teeth almost grazing but your tongue slides in and licks past his teeth, swallowing his moan, his hiss, as you roll your clothed pussy over his hardening cock, tasting nothing but smoke, coffee and mint, a combination you know to be him.

“Mm—fuck,” he groans.

He sounds pained when he drags his mouth from yours, his fist full of the back of your sweat-soaked tee as he drags it off over your head—throwing it, it landing on the tiles with a wet slap, forcing your head to snap to the sound.

But he’s on you.

Mouth latching to your nipple, tongue swirling, before tracing a line up your breast and across your collarbone.

“Taste so fucking good, cariño.”

It’s stifled, the moan—forcing your best smirk to show, “Put your head between my thighs and say that, Peña.”

And he considers it.

Your words.

Head tilting marginally, the slightest of movements that he’ll pretend never occurred. But he moves, shifts. Practically bucks his hips into you as he repositions, and you land on your bare back on the sofa with an oomph.

A comment arrives on your tongue, almost fizzling before it’s swallowed at the way forces your knees together and yanks your panties down your thighs. Soaked, ruined—both from the mere existence of him and the heat. Discarding them, throws them into some dark space as he glances down at the place between your thighs.

“Even in this heat, she’s pretty.”

You try not to turn away, bury your face in the smoked-scented cushions of his sofa as his words meet you. A sudden desire to hide, to cover—

“You not like that, cariño, when I call her pretty?” His knuckles part your folds, teasing, dragging them up and down as you squirm, whine his name. “Tell me.”

Somehow, all fucking unknown to you, more heat floods your cheeks. It's embroiled in embarrassment, shyness—two things you’re sure he spends most of his time trying to fuck out of you, but has failed to do so thus far—

He says your name.

Not your nickname. Not agent.

Eyes snapping to him, throat dry as he continues to tease, as his thumb presses on your clit and makes you hiss.

“No—ffff-feel embarrassed, alright? Fuck.”

You hear his tongue click—it’s the last thing you hear before ringing. Before two fingers slide into you, slide with ease as they delve deep, his frame coming over your body as he moves them, as he curls them. Doing his best to undo as his eyes come into focus, the top of his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

And the ringing dies down.

Forced to as a pebble of sweat falls from his nose and drips to your breastbone.

“No need to be embarrassed with me.”

Your hips try to buck and seek.

“Impaciencia,” he groans—moisture glistening at the base of his throat, palm keeping you down, still, fingers curled inside of you as you gasp. “You’re… fuck. I need to taste you.”

The breath of his words sweeps over your inner thigh.

“Javi, don't tease—“

“I’ve got you, cariño—don’t worry. I’ll make you come again, and again, and…”

You’re not sure if he speaks the last again—or if it’s buried into your pussy. A high chance you blank it out with other noises as his tongue fucks into your hole. Finger on your clit, swirling, drawing shapes your brain can’t manifest or conjure as you become aware of your moans.

Out of instinct, your fingers find his hair—slick with sweat, trying to curl between your fingers as his tongue flattens. All precise, taunting. Forcing you to the edge and dangling you before pulling you back.

It almost makes you thrash, forcibly lift your hips against him when his face lifts—face slick with your want as he smirks.

“Lo sé, cariño.”

“Please.”

It leaves your lips undignified, dignity gone, transformed into more raw, desperate—a plea that cuts through heat. One answered as he lifts your knee over his hip, feeling bare skin, red hot body heat and the nudging of his cock at your entrance.

He steals your breath, it stammering as he sinks into you in one fluid movement. Your fingers grasp, finding the hair at the nape of his neck again as his mouth comes to your ear, hearing it, the hiss between clenched teeth.

When he moves, your lips find his. It’s different, softer and almost gentle. All measured movements gone, lost, thrown out when you breathe him in, when your mouths are open, moaning into each other's throats as your heels dig into his lower back.

And you want to hold on.

But he’s driven you mad. Teeth grating over his shoulder as you tug on his hair. Tasting it, sweat, sex and salt. Your neck further coated in the slick of the heat, the moment; perspiration trickling, sliding over your skin as his hand grasps your hip firmly. Tightly. Practically noticing the hints of intimacy the two of you pretend aren’t there, but rumble and thrum whenever the two of you are alone.

And the thought adds to the feeling of that impending wave rising inside of you again, more angry, needy than it had been before—

“So good for me, cariño. My good girl.”

“Yours.”

It snakes out, too late to retract. Not even caring that it’s there, staining the space between you both, polluting it. Because it’s the truth.

Some days the only thing you can full on believe—

“Yeah, that’s it. Mine, right? All fucking mine?“

His hips thrust into you harder, matching the tone that makes you even wetter than you were seconds before.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yes. Yes. Ye—”

“Fuck, cariño.”

You‘re close. So close. It almost blinding in the way it tries to force your eyes to clench shut, but you can't look away. Not from him. Each flex of his muscles, the way his teeth grit as he fucks into you, makes your body both taut and boneless.

“Wanna feel you, cariño,” he groans, breath ragged, tortured out. “Let me feel you come, baby. Please.”

Tightening around him, fingers jerking on his hair, he meets your eyes.

Not able to fight it, not able to stop it from unravelling as it begins to crest—

"Let me feel you come, baby. Please." His tone all full of gravel, insistent, demanding. Practically unwilling to bend as it brushes itself into your ear.

His name cracks out of your throat like thunder, slamming against the walls as it rips through you. Making your back arch into him, hearing him groan; hearing him hiss and fucking moan as you shake, thighs quaking around his sweat-tinged skin before he grunts as he spills into you.

It’s silence, except for heaving breaths.

The dull noise of the fan comes back to you, replacing the ringing from before as you slowly peel your legs from his body.

You’re not sure what you expect when he lifts his head, but it isn’t the look there. The one matched with a smile, sly but still a smile—chest rising and falling as he kneels, staring down at you.

Taking you in, flicking his eyes to the place the two of you had just been conjoined.

“Fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And even if you roll your eyes, you hide a smile behind the back of your hand, whispering a "Cállate, Peña."

#javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javi peña smut #narcos x reader

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hyunsvngs · 4 months

Text

hyunsvngbinimas!

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: chastity belt, dom!jeongin, innie is mean, degradation, oral (m rec), like one face slap, spit, maybe edging?, one use of ‘sir’, praise, squirting, unprotected sex

“Too tight, or is it okay?” Jeongin muses, ever the careful boyfriend. You shift from foot to foot in front of the mirror, rubbing your thighs together as much as you can despite your newly locked restraint. His fingers dip into the belt around your hips, pleasantly surprised to see that he can fit two fingers past the band. “Mm, it feels okay.”

“It’s- it’s fine, Jeongin,” You huff, a flush spreading from your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. Can’t he just try and push his fingers a little lower? He pulls your dress down then, rubbing a hand over where the red material of your Mrs. Claus themed dress stretches across your ass. The chastity belt is hidden underneath, the key sitting pretty on a chain around Jeongin’s neck.

It’s inconspicuous - it’s like you could pretend it’s not even there, if not for the dildo attached to the damn thing. Jeongin had spent days - no, weeks, picking out the perfect chastity belt for you. Tight enough that you couldn’t forget it was there, but loose enough for comfort, and with a ribbed dildo attached to rest inside of you and plug your pussy up all day. You were able to pee with it on, but not quite rub your clit on anything and reach orgasm - and Jeongin knew you couldn’t cum without that.

He comes up behind you as you fiddle with your hair in the mirror. All you see is a mop of unruly blonde and brown hair, and then you feel the press of lips at your neck. It would be reassuring if not for your current situation. “Twelve hours, jagi. You’ve got this.”

Right. Twelve hours. You had to wear this and feel the incessant pressing of the dildo inside you for twelve hours, and then he’ll let you cum when the clock strikes midnight and it’s officially Christmas Day.

You’re not sure you’re surviving it, in all honesty.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You managed to make it two hours before saying anything, which felt like an achievement. You and Jeongin went to a Christmas dinner with the boys, and it’s in the car that you feel your resolve withering. The dildo sits inside of you, wet and promising against your walls, but everytime you try to grind down on the sensation you’re met with metal preventing you from moving anywhere. You whine, knuckles going white where you’re gripping onto the passenger seat on your way home, and Jeongin only raises an eyebrow.

“It’s been two hours,” He hums, side eyeing your panting, heaving figure. Your cheeks are burning crimson, a bead of sweat pearling on your hairline. You wish he’d lick it off. “You have to keep it together. You still have ten hours to go.”

“Don’t remind me!” You wail, head lolling back against the headrest. The car ride is bumpy, and all you can imagine is Jeongin pulling over and taking you into the backseat, unlocking the stupid fucking belt and finally, finally pushing his cock into your slick hole. The thought has you whimpering, feet thrashing against the floor of the car in your tantrum. Jeongin huffs out a laugh.

“Be good,” He warns, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. You let yourself look at him, only a brief, fleeting glance, but it has your clit throbbing painfully. His Christmas jumper makes him look domestic, festive and sweet, and his jeans are tight on his long legs and thighs. You feel like you’re going to cry. You need him so bad. At a red light, he turns to you, tone soft, eyes anything but. “Jagiya. Be good, I believe in you.”

You blink back tears, shifting a little in your seat as if it’s going to provide you any form of relief. Jeongin swipes a thumb over your cheekbone with a soft grin, eyes forming crescent moons. It’s comforting. You nod hesitantly. “I can be good.”

“You can, and you will.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Six hours. Six hours and you’re sitting on the living room floor, now in your joggers and loose t-shirt wrapping some last minute presents. Jeongin’s mother’s gift from you both had only arrived today, so you sit fiddling with the wrapping paper and expensive perfume box, trying desperately not to think about how unbearably full you are. It’s not enough. It could never be enough. Your boyfriend’s so damn sadistic, so dirty, but you’re even worse for enjoying it so much.

You hear the sound of socked feet padding into the living room, and then a huff as Jeongin drops to the floor. He scoots forward, arms wrapped around your middle and head in the nape of your neck.

“Thanks for wrapping them,” He murmurs, fingernails dragging over your exposed arms. It makes you shiver, not going unnoticed by him. “I’m useless with wrapping gifts, jagi, you’re much better than me.”

“Yeah,” You muse, sticking another strip of tape over the golden paper. “You are useless with wrapping gifts. Remember our first year we were together, you wrapped my gift and forgot tape, and-”

“Shut up,” He whines, hiding his blushing face in your neck. It makes you giggle, and it’s so easy to be domestic and comfortable like this with your boyfriend, so easy to forget the fact that your pussy is still plugged up. A beat passes, and Jeongin inches forward, large hands moving up to underneath your breasts. Oh, no.

“Jeongin,” You warn, shifting on the floor. It doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help.

“Ssh,” Jeongin mutters, and then his hands encompass your breasts. He grips so tightly that the flesh spills out between his fingers, pebbled nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You’re too sensitive. “You’re not even wearing a bra. You make it so easy for me. So willing for me to touch you even though you know you can’t cum.”

“Please-”

“Carry on wrapping, you’ve got more to do,” He cuts you off. You sigh, fiddling with the present to make it look like you’re actually doing something. His hands move to massage your breasts, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “I bet you’re feeling extra slutty for me right now. I bet that dildo is filling you up, but it’s not enough, is it? It’s not as big as me.”

Oh, fuck. Did he have to remind you? No, it’s not as big as him, it’s not as thick as him and it sure as hell can’t make you cum like he does, not when it’s just resting there.

“You’re doing so well,” He kisses your neck, flicks his tongue over your earlobe. You let yourself whine, head lolling back on his shoulder. “My pretty little slut. I can’t wait to have you squirting on my cock later, making a mess all over me.”

“Jeongin, please, I can’t-”

“Six hours, jagi. You’re halfway there,” Jeongin pecks the nape of your neck, and then he hops up, padding out of the room. You’re left with a heaving chest and extremely hard nipples, and a pussy so wet that you think the dildo would’ve slipped out if not for the chastity belt holding it in place. You hear him humming a song in the kitchen, and then he’s shouting for your attention. “Do you want a snack? I’m making one for myself.”

You’re gonna die.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It’s hard to lose yourself in the film Jeongin’s requested to watch with you. The throw blanket from the sofa is soft on your legs, now only clad in your underwear and your t-shirt. Jeongin’s broad chest is pressed against your back, chin hooked over the top of your head as you attempt to focus on the television. Jeongin’s ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing at the appropriate times, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t pay attention either.

Ten hours. Two to go. It’s late now, the only lights in the room being from the Christmas tree and the television. It’s cozy. You hum in approval. If you really try to relax your walls around the dildo, it’s like it’s not there at all.

“He bought her a necklace!” Jeongin squeaks, distraught at the scene playing in front of you. What film is it again? Ah, Love Actually? He did indeed buy her that necklace, and it normally breaks your heart every time, but your vision is hazy. Two hours.

Jeongin shifts, pulling the blanket further over his back until his hips are pressed against your ass. You blink in surprise. He’s hard, but he seems to be ignoring it in favour of watching the film.

You can’t have that. You wiggle your hips under the guise of getting comfortable, and Jeongin’s breath halts.

“Watch the film, jagi,” His voice is stern, but you don’t miss how it’s slightly shaky. “I don’t want to leave that belt on you any longer than necessary.”

That stops you moving. You bite your lip, a shiver wracking through your whole body.

“Mm, actually… It sounds quite good, doesn’t it?” He sighs, his hand moving to your waist. One arm slinks under your head as a makeshift pillow, keeping you in place, and the other grips the flesh on your middle. With a soft noise, he’s grinding against your ass, thick and hard and making you wish he’d just fuck that hole instead. “Keeping you in this longer. You’re already so desperate. Maybe I could play around with you a bit more, try and push that wand vibrator you love so much against the belt to see if you can still cum. Would you?”

You huff in response, eyes watering, and Jeongin’s hand moves from your waist to your chin. He turns you to face him in a quick, tight movement, squishing your cheeks, and his foxlike eyes have never looked more intimidating.

“Would you? Would you cum for me, soak that metal with your cum and still beg for me to take it off after?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow in question, and you nod, trying not to buck your hips backwards into his. It’s a slow, sinuous grind, and you pray internally that he isn’t going to make himself cum like this. He taps your face teasingly, a light smack, and it makes you keen. He snickers, dropping your chin. “I knew you would. Slut.”

“I’m- I’m not a-“

“Oh, but you fucking are,” You let him manhandle you, pushing you down so you’re laying on your front. He humps into you quicker, cock slotting into your asscheeks even through the fabric. The movement has the dildo moving inside of you just a tad, and your hands grip the sofa, eyes rolling back with a desperate sound. “Two hours. It took you two hours to whine and throw a tantrum, and now you’ve got two hours left and you’re still whining. God, do you know how fucking hard that makes me?”

The dildo’s moving. It’s moving inside of you, just an inch, but you think you might cry. “Hnnnmfg, oh, oh, Jeongin-“

“No,” He flips off of you, ushers you onto your side once more and back into your spooning position. He’s kept his hips back, cock no longer pressing into you. It must be throbbing, aching with release, and the thought has you gushing even more around the dildo. “Watch the film. It gets even better.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Please! Please, please, Jeongin, Innie, baby, please-“

Jeongin’s got you fully naked on the bed, bare skin apart from the belt still locked around your hips. It hurts at this point with how much he’s been teasing you just from his mere existence, but you’ve got fifteen minutes left. It’s 11:45. Just another fifteen minutes.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, long fingers tracing over your thighs. He’s naked too, cock hanging heavy between his own lithe thighs and abs bared to the light from your bedside lamp. He looks downright erotic, blonde and black waves of hair obscuring his face but not able to hide the wet noises of his mouth on your tits. The key still sits securely on a chain around his neck, teasing, staring you dead in the eyes.

“Ssh,” He coos, blowing cold air over the pebbled bud. “Fifteen minutes, jagi. Let me play, yeah?”

You want to scream, thrash your legs and cry that you’ve been letting him play all damn day and it hurts now, but you know Jeongin. He’ll make good on his promise to leave you locked up for longer without even blinking an eye. He’s mean.

“Okay. Okay, okay, please, suck me harder. Innie, please,” You pant, chest heaving. Jeongin hums with a grin, satisfied, and he leans down to suckle on you once again. His mouth is so wet, so warm, and you think fleetingly that you could probably cum from this if he told you to. Your nipples are red and abused by now, but you still clutch the pillows beneath your head for dear life and hope that he’ll give your clit the same treatment.

He pops off the bud once again, and then he’s crawling up your body, firm biceps caging your head. His cock rests on the cursed chastity belt, and the coolness of the metal on his cockhead has him hissing.

“Baby,” Jeongin blinks down at the belt, a crooked smile on his lips. Oh, no. “You know, I could probably cum from humping against this. Spill my cum all over the belt and leave you there, crying, so all you can do is dip your fingers in and swallow my cum in the hopes that I’ll come back and give you more.”

“Please don’t,” You whine, shaking your head. Your eyes water with unshed tears, glassy, and you let out an incoherent noise when he humps against you once, twice, three times. Jeongin shushes you, thumb dipping over your wet bottom lip. You still continue, desperate. “Innie, Innie, no! I’ve been good, don’t do that, please, I couldn’t-“

“Okay, okay,” He chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. His digit pushes past your lips, and you suck on it diligently, blinking up at him with pure unadulterated need. “I won’t. Besides, you’ve got ten minutes now. I think I want you to suck my cock.”

You want that. Nothing’s ever sounded so good to your ears, and you nod eagerly, making him smile again. He flips you over, splaying back against the sheets and guiding you on top of him. It’s only after a chaste kiss to the lips does he push your head down, your mouth kissing down his milky skin obediently.

He’s wet, you realise, leaking precum on the trimmed hair at his base. You can’t even stare at his cock and just appreciate it, partially due to knowing that your pussy will just ache more and partially due to the fact that you have to have it in your mouth before you die from need.

“Deepthroat it for me,” Jeongin breathes, one arm behind his head. He’s the epitome of relaxation as you try to force your mouth down on him, tasting the leaking pearlescent cum on his cockhead and spreading it around. He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as his spare hand goes to your hair. “That’s it. Wetter, get it wetter.”

You try. You truly do try, but the only wetness right now is coming from your eyes as you cry. You want to spit on his cock, to get it wet and to make him approve of your actions, but your mouth is dry from pure want. You can’t wait to see how he’s going to fuck you after he unlocks your belt. It’s all you can think about.

His long fingers envelop in your hair, yanking your head off, and he sits up. You watch in awe as he spits on his own cock, pulling your head back and using his thumb to open your lips again. His cock is already slick with his spit, but he spits in your mouth anyway, before he’s pulling your mouth back to his cock.

“Ah, that’s better,” Jeongin hums, relaxing back against the sheets again. “Nice and wet. Will your pussy be wetter than this? I bet it will be, gushing on that tiny dildo all day. God, you’re such a whore for letting me do this.”

You whine around his shaft, bobbing your head as much as you can with the tight grip on your locks. He doesn’t let you breathe, hips starting to fuck sinuously into the tight heat you’ve provided him, and you feel jealous. How come he gets this, and you get nothing? You blink. It has to be five more minutes by now. Five minutes, and you can-

“Not long, baby,” He murmurs, licking his lips over and over. “Keep taking it for me. I’ll keep my cum for your little cunt, don’t worry.”

You’re squirming against the sheets, trying to create a semblance of what Jeongin did to you earlier for some friction on your core. He seems to let it slide despite looking down at you, balls slapping against your chin with every thrust into your throat. You’re gagging, drooling even more down his thick cock, and you let your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of being used like your boyfriend’s own personal fucktoy. It’s all you’d ever want for Christmas.

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, pulling your head off of him. You let him throw you back to the bed by your hair, and then he’s ripping the chain directly off of his neck and shoving the key in the padlock of your belt.

“Yes, yes, yes, please! Off, off, I need you,” Your voice is hoarse, gravelly from the rough treatment, and Jeongin nods with agreement. He knows. He’s not going to punish you for being desperate, and you don’t even know if it’s midnight, but he yanks the offending pleasure cage down your legs and throws it to the floor with a clatter. You can’t even mourn the loss of the dildo when you know you’re getting so much better.

You wail as he pumps his cock a few times, spreading the remaining slick up his length. His chest is heaving, eyes dark. “Legs up. Get those fucking legs up, show me your pussy, I need to be inside of you.”

You obey, hands sinking into the pits of your knees to bend yourself in half, and Jeongin surges forward. He positions his cockhead inbetween your folds, finding your drippy, needy hole. With a sigh, his cock slides inside of you, your walls wet and gummy and so easy to accept the intrusion. You moan so loud that you’re convinced that the world shakes.

“Ah, there we go,” Jeongin groans, and his hips are snapping into yours immediately. It feels so good that you begin to cry again, hands gripping onto your knees for dear life. “There’s that slutty little cunt. F-fuck, was it worth the wait? Does my cock feel good? Tell me, jagiya, tell me.”

“So good, ‘s good, so big, so thick, I’ll- hnnnfg, Jeongin, I need to cum, please!”

“You’re so good, baby,” He coos, cock punching against your g-spot. Touching your clit just once would have you cumming around him but something tells you Jeongin hasn’t got a lot left in him either. Sweat beads above his eyebrow, dripping down his temple. “Touch yourself. C’mon, s-show me how you touch that clit, fuck.”

You let one hand slide from your knee and Jeongin’s quick to press his chest against you firmer, keeping you bent in half. You take two fingers and press them between his lips, and he sucks on them, maintaining eye contact during it. It’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you have to reach down and blindly find your clit, swollen and aching and peeking through your pliant folds.

The first pressing of your fingers makes you near-scream, toes curling, and Jeongin grips your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused and glassy, and you rub and rub and rub until you think you’re going to ascend.

“There she is, look at you,” Jeongin grunts, voice shaking. He fucks into your pussy over and over, wet slapping noises overtaking your senses. “Cum for me. Good fucking girl, my perfect slut, cum for me.”

You whine, legs shaking, and then you’re cumming. Your pussy gushes so hard Jeongin has to pull out, and he instantly hooks two long fingers inside of your hole with a loud groan of his own to crook them up against your g-spot. Your pussy only gushes more, your ears ringing with the force of your orgasm, drool dribbling out of your lips. You continue to rub your clit, spraying cum over your lover, and as soon as the last dribble leaves your messy cunt Jeongin’s sinking right back into home.

“Gonna make me cum,” He warns, shaking his head in disbelief. His hair sticks to his forehead, damp from sweat. “Squirted so fucking much, baby, dirty little slut, so horny from me locking that clit up, I’ll- god, I’m gonna cum inside of you.”

“Please,” You slur, hand resting on your clit with no movement. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

Jeongin groans, loud and steady into the expanse of your room, and then his hips stall. They shake with the intensity of his orgasm, his cock pulsing hot white into your pussy until it’s gushing out around his cock. You feel drunk with it, eyes rolling back into your head as he continues to make noise, riding out the pleasure.

You do really feel like you’ve ascended. You barely notice when Jeongin gets up and wipes you with a warm towel, humming the tune to another Christmas song, and you barely notice when he slides back onto the dirty sheets and pulls you into his chest. It’s only when you realise he’s talking do you blink back into reality.

“The necklace, jagi,” He huffs, and you furrow your eyebrows. He’s still thinking about that film. “Not even for his own wife. Like-“

“Jeongin, you just fucked my brains out and you’re still on about Love Actually.”

Jeongin goes quiet, and then he laughs, kissing your forehead. “Sorry. I doubt you paid attention though, so we’ll watch it again tomorrow. Merry Christmas. I love you more than anything.”

“Merry Christmas, I love you more than anything,” You slur back, eyes already heavy with sleep. Jeongin’s laughing again, you note, but you’re already curling up and falling asleep.

He’ll have to deal with the two of you not changing the sheets later, but you’ll have presents to open first.

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683 notes · View notes

barefoothighlander · 11 months

Text

fear of the dark

summary: ghost is teaching you to evade enemies before your little game turns into something darker

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), dub con, light hunter/prey dynamic, unprotected pinv, fingering, creampie, mask stays on, knife play, name calling, outdoor sex, biting, est relationship

“It goes on like this, green light means it’s active, the red means it’s off” He tucks the comm behind your ear, securing it before pulling his hands back. “This button is to talk, you have to wait for a second for the feed to run through but if anything happens, you tell me”

“Got it, green on, press to talk”

“And keep to channel 4”

You huff a breath, “Okay”

“You ready?”

“What do I get if I outrun you”

“A new skill"

“Boo”

“And if you win” You’re voice is quieter,

“You’ll find out” His thumb strokes across your cheek, “I’ll give you a head start, no leaving the property line, use what I’ve taught you and stay out of my sights, if you make it to sunrise you win”

You smirk, “See you at sunrise”

Turning around you march away from him, moving at a rushed pace, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, the ground is dry which means your tracks will be harder to find, moving your way towards the woods you spare a glance behind you, his large frame relaxed against the side of the house, illuminated by the single light outside as his hands cling to his vest his eyes glued to you.

It’s pitch black outside, the moon provided minimal light through the branches of the tree, guiding your path, you know he doesn’t have his night vision but he’s an expert at finding tracks, one of the few skills his father taught him when they’d go hunting.

You’re breathing heavy as you stumble over rocks, walking for what already felt like hours, navigating around the dark trying to cover your tracks. You make sure to stick to dry ground, knowing that if you stepped in any mud he’d notice the footprints and be on you in an instant.

You reach a small clearing in the woods, deciding it was as good a place as any to take a small rest, you’re not sure how much of a head start he gave you but you know you can’t sit for long. It’s strangely quiet, only a few noises of squirrels running through trees fills the air, there’s no wind or birds, all you can hear is the sound of your own heart, thudding in your ears.

You glimpse at your watch, it’s only midnight, the sun wouldn’t be up for another six hours and you had a lot of ground to cover. Pushing yourself from your position you continue through the woods, avoiding patches of leaves and sticks that could snap as you walk.

Your legs are aching by the time you reach a small stream, trying to navigate your position, doing your best to recall where the stream started. It’s tempting to just jump in, the humid air of summer doing little to cool your sweat beaded skin, the effort of moving up and down hills taking its toll on your muscles.

Fuck it.

If anything it’ll be harder for him to find you in the stream, pulling your boots off and stringing them to your backpack you step in, the coke water forming goosebumps on your skin as you wiggle your toes through the stream. You bend down to grab a hand-full, splashing it against your warm cheeks in an effort to cool down, letting it trickle down your neck as it wets the collar of your shirt.

“Oi, you there?”

His voice rings through your comm, you move to respond but stop yourself, if you answered now he’d know exactly where you were, the noise from the water would echo through your mic, directly into his earpiece.

You jump out of the stream quickly, moving a few paces away so that it was out of earshot before pressing your finger to the button.

"You miss me already?"

“Just checking in"

"Sure"

“Don’t be a brat”

“What are you gonna do about it” You tease through the comms

“Wanna find out?” His voice is deeper

Your hair suddenly stands on end,

He waits a beat, “You need to focus”

“I am”

“What if I was an enemy”

“What are you gonna do, you can’t even find me”

He doesn’t respond.

“Simon?"

The line drops and so does your heart, realizing that he could be directly behind you a sense of panic sets in, you jump back into the stream, following its flow as you rush through the water, your feet splashing it onto your clothes as you make your way through, praying it would cover your tracks.

You’re on edge, the silence of the forest now gone as every twig that snaps grabs your attention, your head on a swivel as you reach a small pond. Stepping out of the water and pulling your boots back on, you squint your eyes around trying to catch a glimpse of him, your breath catching in your throat everytime a branch shifted.

You move further into the woods, checking your watch again 1:36 how had it only been an hour and a half, it felt like forever since you stepped into the trees, the soothing chill of the water now gone, your legs ached from your efforts.

“Are your pants soaked?” His voice breaks your thoughts,

“What?”

“Water was a nice touch”

The line drops again, he’s at the top of the stream which gives you a little bit to gain some distance, tugging your bag around your shoulders you hike further.

Everything starts to look the same, all the trees are reminiscent of each other, you’ll admit you’re lost, but not to him, he’d accuse you of giving up and you didn’t want that. You try your best to navigate your direction, trying to use the stars as some sort of guide but it’s useless, the clouds in the sky block half your view and you can’t remember anything about astronomy anyway, your brain too clouded by the pain in your body.

Your breath hitches at the noise of a branch snapping, your heartbeat now in your ears, you didn't factor in how scary the woods are at night, every sense heightened in the dark.

"Simon?"

You call through your comms but there's no answer, it's dead air, your nerves on fire now, your we’re alone completely, you really didn’t think this through, didn’t stop to consider what would happen if the comms went dead.

You see a small light to your right, squinting your eyes to figure out what it’s from, hoping it was a street light of some sort you move toward it, moving past trees and fallen branches to get to it.

You’re huffing for air as you approach it, your eyes almost shut as it nears, blinding you, you shield your face with a hand,

“What’d I tell you about strange lights”

Your heart drops as you hear him, the crunching of leaves under his boots as he moves near you. You stumble back from him, head turning to find some sort of escape route,

“What’d I tell you love”

you swivel your head from his form to behind you, “They’re deceiving”. In a burst of adrenaline you take off, running away from him as he fades from view, it’s unnerving the way he just walks, he’s not chasing you, it’s like he knows where you’re going.

You’re feet carry you faster than you can think, twisting around trees and over hills, the taste of metal in your mouth as your palm runs over your stomach, a cramp settling into the muscle. You rest against a large oak, closing your eyes and catching your breath, your skin on fire as you try to focus on the sounds around you.

You wait a moment, bracing yourself before turning your body to move, gasping as you feel a hand tug you back.

“Gotcha”

You’re gasping for air as he pins you against the tree, his hands clamped around your arms, keeping you from fighting back.

“Okay, you win, let’s go home”

“Not without my prize”

“Simon, please” Your body is weak against his, no energy left in your muscles as he invaded your space, his chest pressing against yours, the fabric of his vest digging into your flesh.

“You didn’t listen”

“What?” Your brain is a fog

“You did nearly everything wrong, I could’ve had you the minute you stepped into the woods”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, you’ll learn”

Your hooded eyes plead with him, begging to go home, to rest but finding no sympathy, he leans his face towards yours, his chin next to your neck.

“I think you wanted to get caught, wanted to see what would happen”

His words click in your head, the heat from your skin suddenly transferring to your core, your arms straining against his grip as you let out a small whimper.

“That’s it, isn’t it, you wanted be to find you, to teach you a proper lesson”

He squeezes your arms tighter when you don’t respond, his eyes moving to stare into yours, his gaze is dark something darker behind it.

“That’s alright love, I’ll give you what you want, but you have to listen”

You squeeze your thighs, trying to rid yourself of the ache between them as his hand trails down your side. He removes it for a minute, your stomach flinching as you feel the press of cold metal against it, it forms goosebumps on your skin, he trails it toward your breasts, teasing it through the valley of them before placing it under the hem of your shirt, splitting the fabric up the middle.

The cold air hits your skin causing your nipples to harden as he traces the blade over your skin, pressing it flat against the raised buds.

“You look good like this, all ready for me to use”

Your chest maintains a steady rise and fall, “Si-“

“Not this time love”

Your face falls as you watch his face, the shell of a skull staring back at you, “Ghost, please”

He pays no attention to your words, running his knife along your skin before settling it above the hem of your pants, wriggling your hips to sooth your arousal.

“Needy little thing aren’t you”

He removes his hands from you, giving you an out but you stand in front of him, weak fingers working to undo your pants, he watches as you stumble to step out of them, leaving you in your underwear, the chill outside doing little to settle your nerves.

“Such a perfect little thing” He runs a gloves hand over your breasts, humming as you let out a sigh. Your body freezes as his knife makes contact with your skin again, trailing it towards your core before using it to cut your panties, letting the fabric drop.

He flips the blade, teasing your thighs with the handle of it before he runs it through your folds, biting back a gasp, there was no way to hide your arousal now.

He pulls his knife into view, your slick coating the handle, glistening in front of your face “You’re fucking soaked, you little slut”

“Open your mouth”

You do as he says, flattening your tongue and pushing it out as his hand cups your jaw, holding it open. He runs the handle across the muscle, the taste of yourself dancing over your taste buds as he pushes it slowly into your mouth, stifling a chuckle as you gag around the handle. He watches the string of spit that forms between you and the weapon as he retracts it from your mouth, his eyes glancing toward your core, your unsteady legs holding you up as he brings the weapon towards it.

“Do you think you deserve my cock?”

“Yes, please Ghost”

He teases the handle between your folds, holding it against your weeping core, forcing you to clench around nothing.

Your head falls forward as he pushes it into you, the rough material running along your walls as he pumps it into you. Your hand reaches to brace on his shoulder, holding yourself up before his free hand connects with your throat, pushing you back against the tree. Your body is on display for him, his head looking down to where your cunt is swallowing his blade, groaning at the sight of your slick leaking from your core.

“Greedy little slut, you’d take anything wouldn’t you”

You shake your head, your voice strained by his grip on your neck,

“You will, you’ll take everything I give you”

He thrusts the handle into you faster, tightening his hand as you start to grind yourself down on it,

“Need more, please”

“You wanna cum on my knife you fucking slag”

“Please” You open your eyes at him, your face flush as you silently beg, he releases your throat, allowing you a breath as his gloved hand meets your clit, you arch your back at the contact, the rough circles providing enough stimulation that you feel your knees weaken.

“Do it, cum for me”

His fingers rub along your bud and you come undone, your fingers digging into his vest as you cum with a sob, your body falling forward against him as his fingers work you through your high. He feels you finish, pulling his knife from you, listening to you whimper from the loss of contact as he throws it to the dirt.

His arms lock under your thighs, hoisting your weak from against him and pressing your back against the tree, he grinds his clothed erection against your cunt, your core soaking his pants as your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna take it, all of it”

Your pussy clench’s at the thought, your ears failing to hear hun unzip his pants, the tip of his cock reading through your folds, smearing your slick around your thighs as he lines himself up.

You bury your head in his neck as he pushes in, the stretch of him burning your walls as he stuffs his cock inside. His hands grip your waist, moving you further down his length until his tip is buried in your cervix, your fingers digging into his back as you whimper around him.

“That’s it, gonna fill this tiny cunt”

He holds you against the tree, keeping you up as his hips pull back, his cock dragging against your walls before he thrusts it back in, his balls slap against your ass as he pounds his cock into you, forcing you to take every inch.

“Fuck, can practically see myself in you”

He holds you with one arm while the other presses firmly to your stomach,

“Gonna split you on my fat fucking cock, you’d like that huh?”

His hand makes contact with the side of your ass when you don’t respond,

“I said you’d like that, wouldn’t you”

“Yes!” You scream, the heartbeat in your ears overpowering any other noise in the area as he moulds you to his cock.

“Gonna fill this tight pussy with my cum, let you walk around with my seed in your cunt, dirty fucking whore”

He buried himself deeper with every thrust, pulling almost all the way out only to force his length back in, the weight behind his thrust bouncing you up and down, his eyes watching the way your breasts jump with every pump of his cock.

His fingers trail to your sensitive clit, pinching the bud, you let out a yelp, bearing your teeth into the base of his neck as he grunts, you mark his flesh as his grip on you gets tighter, sure to leave bruises in their wake.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes as you drop your cheek to his shoulder, the saliva in your moth dripping to wet his collar as he works another orgasm from you.

“Cum on my cock, want you to soak me, feel you squeeze me with your tight little cunt”

The bark of the tree scrapes against your bare skin, forcing you to arch into him, his cock driving deeper into you as you sob around him, his fingers circling and flicking over your clit, the band inside you stretching as your body melts.

You clench down on him, greedily taking every inch as you cum, your slick dripping from your core to wet his cock, your cum coating the opening of his pants as he grinds his pelvis against your clit, the friction from his pubic hair adding another layer as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re reduced to whimpers as he takes over all your senses, all you can hear, feel, see is him, the way his cock has you full, his grunts filling your ears as your gaze is stuck on him.

“That’s it baby, so good for me, such a perfect little slut”

You cling to him with weak limbs as his knuckles go white from his gold on you, his arms rising you up and down to meet his thrusts as he chases his high,

“That’s it, fuck that’s it, taking me so well”

He quickens his pace, fucking you ruthlessly, your aching core sucking him in as he pushes his length into you, his tip buried deep inside your walls as he holds you against his chest. Your lower stomach warms with the feeling of him spilling inside you, flooding your core as you sigh, your pussy fluttering as he pulls from you, watching his seed leak from your cunt before pushing it back in with two fingers, making sure it all stays in.

He holds you for a moment, letting you regain your composure before gently letting you down, his hand on your waist holding you steady as he removes his jacket, wrapping it around your naked form providing some sort of warmth.

You watch him with heavy lids, your body swaying at you try to stay upright, his stare is softer now as he bends down, his arms snaking under your legs to pick you up, holding you against his chest.

“Did so well love” He presses his forehead to yours, the heat of his body warming your cold limbs, “Let’s go home”.

He maneuvers around carefully, holding you steady as he moves around the trees, his gaze shifting to you every minute to make sure you were okay. He makes it out of the woods in minutes, the warm light of the windows coming into view as your body grows tired.

He carrie’s you into the house, slowly making his way towards the bathroom, setting you down for a moment so he can turn the tap on the bath on, he kneels in front of you, his hands tugging his mask off so you can see him, giving him a weak smile as he gently removes your remaining clothes.

He helps you to stand, walking towards the warm bath, feeling your muscles sooth as you step in, the water washing over your skin. He strips his own clothes, feeling the water rise as he sits behind you, his legs bent beside your frame as you lean back against his chest.

He runs a gentle cloth over your skin, cleaning up any dirt and grime that was on it, carefully cleaning around your core before his arms settle around your stomach, holding you close.

He rests his lips against the crown of your head as you focus on the sound of his breaths, steady behind you, lulling you to sleep as his thumbs trace over your skin.

#tw: dubcon #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost fluff #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader

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chrisevansonly · 7 months

Note

oscar piastri x talkative sunshine reader ???

let’s continue on with some blurbs shall we i hope i did this alright:)

oscar couldn’t help but smile as he watched you create more beaded bracelets for the upcoming grand prix. it had become a tradition for you to swap bracelets with fans of oscar’s, something you’d started a few races ago and it had stuck

“okay so then after pink i think lavender? do you think so too os?”

you looked up at him a smile on your face, he swore you radiated nothing but warmth and light

“i think that’s perfect baby, they look great”

“thank you! i’m really excited for this weekend, i’ve been seeing everyone on twitter who’s going getting their bracelets ready! oh i should make us matching ones again!”

oscar rested his chin on his hand, watching you with a fondness

“i’d love that sunshine, you know i love when you make me anything”

did he already have 3 bracelets on his wrist right now made by you? absolutely. would he refuse another one from you? never. you were always meticulous when you’d spend your time beading, picking colours, charms everything you’d mastered to a t.

“what colours do you want my love?”

“surprise me”

you pouted

“but i already did that last time…”

he laughed, his hand coming down to rub your shoulder softly as you leaned your head on his knee

“okay okay…how about blue and black?”

you smiled tilting your head around to smile at him, oscar quick to kiss your lips before you went back to beading

“i love you sunshine”

he watched as your cheeks flushed, your eyes brightening as you smiled, the reaction you had to his sweet words never failing to fill his chest with butterflies

“i love you too os, now hold your wrist out i need to measure it!”

laughing he abided by your instruction, just happy to sit here and spend his time with you. if he could he’d spend every hour with you, even if his wrist ended up stacked with brackets.

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri f1 #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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loveshotzz · 3 months

Text

A sneak peek 🌻

[This snippet takes place after your first night back in Hawkins, the morning after a party that Steve had to take a very drunk you and Robin home from. The morning after some things were said that you don’t remember 😌]

📻 fic playlist

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud insight to hide you from its light.

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty, the toe of your sneaker kicking small rocks as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you have a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, and a dimple filled grin cracks wide across his face as he stands up.

“Glad to see you’re alive princess.” He teases, stepping out of his glass case with coveralls that are clean today, not the stained mess they were last night.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle, but there’s no saying no to Robin, you know that.” You laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to react to the sound of your voice.

“Trust me, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dance across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve Harrington emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light up with obvious amusement.

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of his tank top shines with sweat.

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.”

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” You snort, making him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, stopping just close enough for you to smell how the cedar of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad news,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial up on the speaker in his office.

End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. You can see the green that hides in his eyes, only shimmering if you look close enough in the sunlight.

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it has your blood pressure returning to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him.

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” He sighs with a disappointed expression.

“Is this the bad news?”

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck.

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?”

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch.

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath.

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes.

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap this time. A thumb and forefinger find their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his tooth paste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again, turning into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his work bench before adding,

“Do me a favor though and tell Robin she owes me a new pair of sneakers.”

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

Hello there! For a blurb, could I request either Steve or reader making a mixtape for the first time for the other? Also, hope your brain is able to get some good rest!

ty for your request anon! — steve's shy gf loves to spoil him 'cause he deserves to have nice things (established relationship, fluff, shy!reader, 1.1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

When you first started dating, Steve learned two things about you, very quickly.

One, you’re not great at expressing your feelings. And two, you love giving him gifts.

Both are equally hard for him to stomach.

He hates when you don’t tell him how you feel — when you choose to suffer alone rather than let him in on your suffering. It doesn’t matter how many times Steve tells you that you’re not burdening him or that he’d swim oceans to appease you. You keep to yourself most times, very rarely vulnerable.

What you lack in your ability to communicate, you make up for in gifts. And not the “here’s something shiny because I’m trying to buy your love” kind of gift his parents always got him. What you give him is far more sentimental. The full-blown, hand-made, holy-shit-this-took-a-lot-of-effort sort of gift.

You paint things for him when you have the time. He’s got a dozen tiny, vibrantly colored easels decorating his desk and dresser. You make him jewelry, too, out of pretty pastel beads. Steve wears your initial, along with various hearts and stars and circles, on his wrist every day.

You wear his, too — on your pulse when you visit him at Family Video.

Closing shift, Saturday night, a billion other things you could be doing, and you’re spending it with him. It makes suffering the graveyard shift a lot easier on his heart.

You’re there for half an hour before you work up the courage to pull your latest present from the pocket of your jacket. “I made you something,” you tell him, finally, somehow quieter than the already quiet store.

Steve’s smiling before he knows what it is. His rosy lips curl into a crooked smile. His tired honey eyes blink up at you. “Yeah?”

He sits behind the bulky computer, slouched in his swivel chair and barely focused on the catalog he’s supposed to be mining through. You’re sitting on the counter beside him, legs hanging off the edge. His right hand lazes on the computer mouse while his left idles on your leg — long fingers curled around your calf, thumb rubbing absentmindedly along your shin.

You nod sheepishly and motion to the cassette tape in your hand.

“What’s this?” he wonders as he takes it from you.

“A mixtape,” you answer with a curt shrug. ‘Cause it’s easier than telling him, “Oh, it’s just tape I spent hours making you so I could compile every song that could maybe come close to describing how much I love you, but even that came up short.”

Steve’s still grinning when he reads what you’ve written on the front of it.

best songs ever for the best person ever, you’ve scribbled on a sticker you decorated with pink and red hearts. The bottom reads, everything i can’t tell you.

“Babe…” he hums quietly, lovesick eyes flitting up to you. “This must’ve taken you forever…”

Again, you shrug and duck your warming face down to your lap. “It wasn’t that hard…”

Steve’s hand is still caressing your leg, squeezing softly along the back of it. He knows it took work. He knows you won’t admit to it. So he just smiles — a tiny, tight-lipped thing that makes his dimples peek out.

“Thank you,” he mutters with a honeyed fondness. “You know you never have to give me anything…”

“I like doing it… You deserve to have pretty things,” you answer sheepishly.

His grin widens. “Well, I got the prettiest thing right here, so…”

He rises from the cushioned seat to stand in front of you, back aching and legs groaning in protest.

Your nose scrunches in disdain at his words.

“Too cheesy?” Steve squints and positions himself between your legs. His palms are wide and warm as they settle contently on your thighs.

“A little.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, though he doesn’t really mean it. He just uses it as an excuse to press a kiss to your burning cheek. When he pulls back again, he’s still nose-to-nose with you — still smiling and sparkling at you.

“I get off in, like, thirty minutes. Maybe I can drive us to Lover’s Lake, and we can listen to the tape and stargaze or whatever. You know, all the stuff people disgustingly in love do.”

“Then why would we do that?” you quip, still shy in your way.

“Very funny.”

You conceal your grin by pursing your lips to the side. “I don’t know… I wasn’t really expecting to listen to it with you.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not!” he protests, almost offended you would even say so. “What’s gonna be real embarrassing is when I sing all the songs at the top of my lungs to you.”

“Oh, god…” you groan quietly to yourself.

Sometimes, you think social anxiety is scared of Steve. He’s not afraid to get stared at, especially not when it comes to you. It’d be way too easy for him to roll down all the windows, turn up the radio, and belt all the cheesy love ballads you’ve compiled for him.

Steve grins, pink and crooked. “Exactly, baby.”

“Just promise you won’t make fun of me,” you murmur, gaze turned down to where your anxious hands fiddle with a rogue thread hanging on the hem of his shirt. You say it in a lilt like you’re joking, but you’re still sort of serious.

“When have I ever made fun of you?”

“You know what I mean…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he echoes tenderly in return.

Because he does.

You’re trying to tell him that you don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want him to analyze all the lyrics and make jokes when one of them is particularly cheesy. You want to pretend like you’re just listening to the radio and not like every single song is handcrafted specifically for him and the way he makes you feel.

“I’m gonna be too busy kissing the life outta you to say anything, anyway,” Steve promises, wide hands squeezing the outsides of your thighs.

Your face flares hot again. You think if he pressed another kiss to your cheek, you’d burn him.

“Promise?” you press.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he huffs, almost sympathetically, already leaning closer to you. “You’re gonna have to pry me off of you by the end of the night.”

Before you could promise him that you’d never because you want him to kiss you forever and ever and ever, his lips are already on yours.

He kisses you soft at first — several tender little pecks to warm you up like he’s giving you ample time to pull away and tell him you’re not in the kissing mood. It only makes you go deeper. You get more languid, more confident.

Steve lets you kiss him how you want. His mouth is soft and pink and obedient for you. His hands are warm and wide and welcoming, rising from your thighs to the curve of your waist.

You barely make it to Lover’s Lake that night.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

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sinsandsweetness · 6 months

Text

thinking about living across the hall from Frank…

-> always running into him at the most random times. in the elevator or the lovey super late at night or bright and early in the morning. When he’s on his way to a job and you’re coming back from work. Or you’re on your way to study at the library and he’s got his keys and a bag of groceries in his hands. Always giving you a little nod of acknowledgment but neither of you ever have the courage to speak. To actually say hi.

-> until one day where you get locked out of your apartment. You lost your keys or something. And with your luck, your roommate works the night shift at the hospital. You’ve got no way in until morning.

-> So you find yourself stuck. An hour goes by and you’re sitting on the dirty carpet hallway floor. Leaned up against the wall. Eyes fluttering closed because hell it’s been a long day. Frank, on his way home from work, makes his ways down the hall. Concerned at first by the sight of your body laying in the hall. But he gets to his door and it’s just you, half asleep. You give him a soft smile and he finally asks you for your name. You explain your situation and he nods in understanding.

“Well don’t just sit there. C’mon.” He’d wave you into his place, lunchbox in hand. Dirty from a day of construction. In desperate need of a shower and some food.

-> you’re reluctant to come in. Not because of Frank. Or at least not because you didn’t like him. More so… the opposite. You found him intimidating. Handsome. Rugged. You always enjoyed running into him. Smiling at him in the elevator. Trying not to blush too hard. But there’s just this aura about him that makes you a little nervous. Butterflies or something.

-> he’d tell you to make yourself at home while you wait to get ahold of your roommate. Or come up with a plan to get your keys. To call the landlord. Though you doubt they’d answer at this hour.

-> he asks if you’re alright if he showers, “I’ll be quick. You can help yourself to the fridge.” He even grabs you a beer and places it on the table in front of you. Cracking one for himself as he heads for the washroom.

-> it feels weird. Being in a strangers home. It’s empty. Sad almost. Grey walls. Nothing… personal. Nothing that tells you anything about the man. It’s clean. As clean as any of the suites in you cheap ass apartment can possibly get. But it’s bland. It’s a bachelor suite. He’s got nothing more than the necessities. The basics. You can’t help but think about Frank. In this apartment. Every night by himself. He must be lonely.

-> you saunter over to the fridge. Not particularly hungry, but feeling slightly awkward just sitting at his table and doing nothing. There’s enough to make a weeks worth of sandwiches. And a more than a few weeks worth of beer. You take a swig of your bottle.

-> when the water shuts off, you get back to your spot at the table. Checking your phone. The messages with your roommate. He’s probably busy. Drawing blood. Stitching people up. Doing whatever it is he does as a surgical intern.

-> “you get ahold of him?” Franks voice brings you back.

“Oh, no. He’s- he’s probably busy. Works at the hospital so… um… thanks for inviting me in, but uh, I can just wait out there.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, getting up to leave.

“Wait out there? All night?” He asks. Your gaze goes down to his shirt. A little damp where beads of water are running down his neck. Off his beard. You look back up. He’s got such pretty eyes, you notice.

“Yeah, i’ll be alright.” You give him a tight lipped smile. But he’s not having it.

He shakes his head, “here,” he grabs a blanket from the supply closet. And a pillow. A pillowcase. He fumbles with the makeshift bedding for a moment until he makes the couch up. It does look nicer than the stained hallway carpet.

“You can’t stay out there. There’s some real… weirdos in this area. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” His concern makes your stomach flutter. Even if it’s just human decency. Courtesy of not wanting you to get mugged or murdered.

“You really don’t have to-“ you try to deny the offer but he grabs your bag. Gently pulling it off your shoulders and placing it against the wall.

“It’s just for the night. I don’t mind. Seriously.” His eyes are serious. Brows furrowed in concern.

-> the couch is cozier than you expected. Worn and used in the most perfect way. It takes you no time to fall asleep. Frank on the other hand, is having some serious insomnia. There’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, right outside his bedroom. Sleeping on his couch. Probably making his blanket smell like her vanilla perfume. It’s making his brain all fuzzy. He can’t think. Well, he can’t not think. You’re wearing one of his tee shirts. He offered it up. No, he insisted. And when saying goodnight from his bedroom doorway, he couldn’t help but notice that your pants were folded up on top of your bag, and your bare legs gleamed in the dim light of the living room, as you fluffed up your pillow.

-> the two of you had some very interesting dreams that night.

-> Waking up to the smell of coffee, you’re blushing hard when he hands you a mug. He tells you he has to leave for work. Lunchbox in hand, jacket on.

-> He didn’t ask for his shirt back.

-> you wave Frank goodbye as you watch him head down the hallway, and at the same time, you see your roommate come out of the elevator at the end. Both of them exchange a nod and a glance. Your roommate jogs up to let you both into your place.

“You coulda came to the hospital. Coulda grabbed my keys,” he says plopping himself down on the couch. Rubbing his eyes. Long night for him as well.

“I didn’t even think about it. He just- Frank invited me in and I was so tired… I mean, it seemed like a better option than sleeping in the hall…”

“Well it was real nice of him. Maybe you should make him a dish or somethin’. Lasagna? Y’know, to say thank you.”

“You just want some lasagna don’t you?” You smirk, rolling your eyes.

Your roommate smiles back. A low chuckle escapes his throat. “The man let you sleep on his couch. You better be sayin’ thank you somehow.”

continued here

(Idk what this is tbh but um… let me know what we think??)

#officially writing for Frank now my loveys <3 #Frank castle x reader #frank x reader #Frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank daydream #frank castle

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ownedbyfictionalwomen · 1 year

Text

secret

abby anderson x fem!reader

when you're stressed out of your mind and turning into a little bit of a brat, your girlfriend puts you back in your place... shame no one can know about her. smut + fluff + a little angsty! 18+ 2.3k words.

!r is owen's sister, a world with no apocalypse coz yay, pussy spanking, fingering, a whole lotta love, sweet abby, dom!abby, kinda mean!abby too!

The frustration was mounting inside you- he never listens. Owen had promised that he wouldn’t invite anyone over, that he wouldn’t make too much noise, and that he would let you study in peace. So why couldn’t you?

He and his friends set up camp in the living room, covering every square inch of space and forcing you back up into your bedroom, away from the little haven you had been cosied up in on the couch. All day, you had been minding your own business in that little slice of focused heaven, your laptop perched on your lap and study notes floating around you… Then he came and messed it all up.

You were one for routine and comfortability- being forced out of that had made your head spin. Now, your sheets and notebooks were in complete chaos thanks to him, all crumpled and jumbled, making your jaw clench in anger uncomfortably.

Just as you were about to sit down at your desk and sort through the chaos, you heard the front door open, a glass smash and the overwhelmingly loud voice of your brother- “Abby! Fucking finally. Get over here.”

Abby Anderson.

You couldn’t help the little lovesick smile that graced your lips as you heard her voice, kindly greeting all her friends and ensuring everyone was okay. She was always so sweet, even though there were a lot of people who didn’t believe she was. It was her rare smile and muscled physique that made people a little standoffish.

The two of you had been in love with each other for so long that you couldn’t even remember when it started. From the moment you saw her, you wanted her… but so had your brother.

And so that’s the driving reason (or excuse) your love for her was still a secret. The fear of shattering Owen’s heart was a constant nagging worry in the back of your head, stopping you from smacking a sweet kiss on her lips everytime you saw her.

That justification lasted for a few years, kept your kisses private and your moans quiet until Abby had grown tired of it- she wanted to grab you and sit you down on her lap whenever she needed to, she wanted to kiss you in public, she wanted to let the headboard pound against the wall whilst she showed you just how much you meant to her.

But she knew how much Owen meant to you, and he meant a lot to her too; a brother to the both of you. But that’s all he’d ever be, that’s as far as Abby’s feelings for him could reach.

After managing to last an hour with their obnoxious pandemonium, it got too much; it clanged around in your ears and drilled into your brain every time you tried to put pen to paper. The copious amount of deep “calming” breaths you took did nothing to stop the little bead of anger expanding in your stomach.

You convinced yourself that you were just going downstairs to get yourself a glass of water, your real motivation wasn’t to give Owen a stern talking-to and try to signal Abby up to your room… definitely not.

With every thump of your slippers on the carpeted stairs, your headache got bigger, their commotion growing so loud you winced as you slipped past them and into the kitchen where Owen and Abby were stood bickering about how to fit all the beer into the fridge. They were so engrossed in their little booze-war that they didn’t hear you come.

“Hello…” you said, drawing out the greeting to give them a greater chance of hearing you (over all the fucking noise).

Abby turned around almost instantly at the sound of your voice, trying her hardest not to let her eyes wander away from your stunning face as she noticed your braless chest in her periphery… suddenly her mind was plagued with memories of you, your perfect heavy breasts bouncing in her face as your slick pussy swallowed her strap all the way to the hilt. She always loved how your head would tip back and a breathless moan would escape whenever she sucked hickeys onto your delicate skin.

“Hi, Abby.” You spoke again, watching her eyes focus back in on your face, her sweet smile pointed right at you.

“Hey. You doing okay? You’ve got that big exam tomorrow, right?” she questioned, trying to distract her brain but not bothering to turn back and continue her conversation with your brother. Instead, she met you in the middle, leaning against the counter next to the sink as you grabbed a glass and began filling it.

“Mhm… trying to get some last-minute studying in but… you guys are kinda loud.” You said, whispering the last part of your sentence in the hopes it wouldn’t come across as too harsh (and that Owen wouldn’t hear you).

Your wishes never came true.

“Jesus… would you stop bitching? Put your headphones on or something.” Owen cut in just as Abby was about to compliment your hair, picturing the way your cheeks would always blossom into a pretty pink at her sweet comments.

“Owen,” Abby said in warning, watching your little smile dim into a straight line and a frown overcome your face. She wanted to wrap her strong arm around your waist and pull you into her chest, letting you rest your head in her neck.

“What?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m the asshole? She’s done nothing but-”

The door into the hall looked more appealing with each passing second that you looked at it, just thinking about being in a room where Owen was not almost made tears of happiness peek out at the corners of your eyes. So you made your way out of the room and back up into yours, the faint and continuous bickering slowly dying out until you managed to close your door and it went completely.

Of course, Manny’s raucous screaming hadn’t been drowned out.

It was just as you were climbing onto your bed and opening up your laptop that you noticed your door had reopened and Abby was leaning against the frame, her biceps bulging underneath her long sleeve shirt, the cotton perfectly sculpting her arms.

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked, closing the door and turning the lock before she sauntered up to you, standing by the edge, just out of reach.

You nodded your head and gave her a brief smile, before turning back to your laptop and typing in your password. Abby sensed the sensitivity surrounding you, climbing up onto the bed and sitting just behind you and resting her head on your shoulder.

Turning your head, you gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then laid your cheek on the top of her hair, letting it tickle your face as she squeezed your thigh with a gentle grip. Abby picked up her head a few seconds later, her gaze zeroing in on yours before it dropped to your lips, a little bruised from your anxious nibbling.

“You worry too much.” She murmured, too entranced by your beauty to speak properly. Abby leaned in and slid her tongue over your bottom lip, teasing your mouth open so she could properly cover it with her own.

Just as you were about to draw back and defend yourself, you heard your laptop slam shut and felt two hands grab your hips. She pulled you up and into her chest, like she thought about earlier, as she laid back on your bed. When you were comfortably straddling her own hips, she placed her hands behind her head and looked up at you, laughing at your cute annoyed expression.

“And you’re a distraction.” You whispered, leaning down to get another kiss, your wet lips needily slipping over hers as her hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

Your own hands wrapped around the sides of her head, holding her still so she had no way to escape the assault on her lips: you bit her bottom one hard, before flicking the top one with your tongue. The minute contact made her whine, low and deep in the back of her throat as you turned your attention to her cheeks, placing sweet little kisses on any free space you could find.

“Kiss me right.” She complained, giving your bare thighs a rough smack. You leaned back and shuffled forward, so your hips were placed directly above her stomach, and you could feel the ridges of her abs against your most sensitive parts.

Abby’s complaints ceased when she felt you rock against her, the warmth from your pussy leaking through the fabrics that separated you two. She leaned up on her elbows, wanting to offer her girl more pleasure, leaving her body for you to use. Once she heard that first pretty little moan slip out of you, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the hem of your shirt and forcing it up and over your head.

Closing your eyes, you felt her hands skim your front gently, from your shoulders to your stomach, then back up to your breasts that were wrenched free from the constraint of your bra; the cups pulled down away from your flesh as Abby sucked a nipple into her mouth. You took your hands from her neck and reached behind you, unclipping your bra and throwing into on the floor.

“Feels good, Abs.” You whimpered, as she gripped both your breasts harshly, squeezing them and licking at both of your nipples. You released a breathy moan when you felt her teeth dig into your sensitive skin. “Fuck…”

“Take these off, baby.” Abby helped you out of your little shorts, taking your underwear with them as you leaned back and let her yank them down your thighs. You sat between hers, facing her with your hands gripping the duvet by her ankles, your legs closed and knees up to your chest, blocking her view from your slick pussy.

She held still, waiting for you to reveal yourself to her. But you wouldn’t.

When Abby reached forward, hands wrapping around each of your ankles, you pulled back further, her grip slipping off of you.

“Take off your shirt… then I’ll think about opening my legs.”

Your girlfriend raised an eyebrow in disbelief, then grabbed your ankles again, this time managing to pull your legs apart and haul you back towards her so your ass was nestled perfectly between her thighs.

The force of her pull made you lose your balance, your back hit the bed and you laid there defenceless with your legs spread open. Abby landed a harsh slap on your pussy, her hand coming away dripping with your juices as a pained scream quietly rushed out of your mouth.

“Fuck, Abby.”

“Don’t you ever try and hide this from me.” She ground out, her jaw clenched in anger as she pinched your clit harshly between her fingers, watching your puffy little hole leak. Abby slipped her finger inside you easily, picking up your wetness, before pulling away and sucking it clean from her skin, tasting you.

“More, baby. Fill me up.” You begged, lifting your hips up off the bed, chasing her fingers.

“Anything for my sweet girl.”

You felt the sheets growing wet beneath you as Abby rubbed your clit in small circles, slowing her pace whenever your moans got too loud or you got too close. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you; your pretty face blushing as you squeezed your breasts, the heavy flesh spilling out between your fingers and driving Abby insane.

“Fuckfuckfuck…” Two fingers slipped inside you, up to the hilt, unforgiving. The delicious stretch around her made Abby plunge them in and out at a ruthless speed, drawing loud moans from you every second. Your volume grew with every thrust, you couldn’t control it.

You could feel your high growing deep in your tummy, slowly flooding downwards as Abby scissored her fingers inside of you, stretching out your sensitive hole until it was almost painful. You leaned up to grab her wrist, to slow the torture, but you were met with another cruel slap against your sensitive skin.

Abby ignored your pleas, continuing her sweet torment on your pretty pussy, forcing you closer and closer towards the edge with every circle she drew on your clit.

“My girl. Aren’t you, baby?” She asked, punctuating every word with a rough thrust into your fucked-out walls.

“Mhm, yeah- oh fuck- all yours, Abs.” You breathed out, moaning loudly at another severe spank. “I’m gonna cum.”

Abby pushed harder, went deeper, rubbed faster; anything to get her perfect girl to where she needed to be. You clenched tightly around Abby, flawless white cream leaking out around her fingers, making her moan quietly at the sight.

It gushed out of you unexpectedly, soaking your soft inner thighs, as well as Abby’s hands. Your last moan peaked at the top of your voice, filling the room as she pulled you up and into her chest, letting you ride out your high in her arms.

“Oh my god.” You said, taking your time to catch your breath as you rubbed your hands up and down Abby’s back- the feeling of her muscles under your palms putting a secure feeling in your chest. I’ve got you.

“You feeling better, baby?” Abby asked, hoping she had at least relieved some of your stress.

“Mhm… much better.” The two of you pressed your foreheads together gently at your admission, closing your eyes, stealing gentle kisses whenever you felt like it and saying little ‘i love you’s.

Held in your little dream world, neither of you heard the fury-filled footsteps until it was too late and your door was being pounded on- “What the fuck are you two doing?”

#abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #tlou2

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loverhymeswith · 8 months

Text

Let's Be Alone Together || Part One

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Ever since Tommy swore an oath to your dying husband, you've been a part of the Shelby family. Two years have passed and the two of you are still weighed down by grief but perhaps you can find solace in one another's company.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: ptsd, mention of death, implied drug use, language, not beta-read

A/N: My first Tommy fic after embarking on a rewatch of Peaky Blinders. If there's interest in this, I have more chapters in mind!

Part Two

“Where the fuck is Tommy?”

Arthur Shelby’s commanding voice cuts through the buzz of chatter. Gradually, the small crowd gathered in The Garrison’s snug falls silent. Not as quickly as they would have done for Arthur’s younger brother, but he has their attention at least.

Glaring at the occupants of the private side room, the eldest Shelby brother takes another breath. “I said, where the fuck is-”

“We heard you the first time, Arthur,” Pol pauses her chain-smoking to interject. Even with the cigarette now resting between her painted fingers, her burgundy lips are pursed, displeasure evident in the fine lines of her face. “Shouting louder isn’t going to make him magically appear. Let’s just get on with it.”

Sitting quietly in the background - quite literally, you are tucked away in the corner of the room - it strikes you that they should have noticed earlier. The presence - or lack thereof - of the head of the Shelby family rarely goes unobserved. After all, Tommy is usually the one to call for council. For him to be missing, something must be wrong.

All eyes are fixed on the centre of the room as a discussion breaks out between Arthur and John on the merits of waiting for Tommy, so it’s easy for you to slip away. You’ve often wondered why you’re invited to these family meetings in the first place. A sense of duty to your late husband, perhaps? Ensuring you don’t feel left out? Or maybe it’s just their way of keeping an eye on you.

Two years have passed since Tommy swore an oath to your dying husband as they fought side by side in the Somme, and still the Shelbys treat you as one of their own. Pol, the family’s matriarch with a temper to match the size of her heart; sweet Ada who treats you like the older sister she never had; Arthur and John - a pair of brothers watching out for you as you navigate your way through widowhood.

And then there’s Tommy.

Tommy, who delivered the news of your husband’s death in person and held you while you broke down. Tommy, who put a roof over your head and food on your table when you could no longer afford the cost of rent. Tommy, who gave you a job and a purpose and a family.

You owe a lot to the Shelbys, but none more so than Tommy.

It’s likely your imagination, but sometimes it feels as if he acts differently around you. Like he’s more open with you than he is with the others. Maybe it’s the loss the two of you share. The grief that, given half a chance, might have swallowed you whole had Tommy not saved you.

But who is there to save him?

The streets are quiet at such a late hour, the rain having long since driven everyone inside so there’s no one around to witness your hurried approach to Tommy’s front door. You rap firmly, but you’re not surprised by the lack of response. Instead, you slip the spare key from your coat pocket. The one given to you for emergencies. The door opens with a soft creak.

Climbing the stairs, your heart races. The sweet scent of smoke fills your lungs and you hesitate at the bedroom door, suddenly fearful of what you might find on the other side. Tommy's habit isn’t quite the secret he’d like to think it is, but he’s usually so careful not to let it affect his business.

Upon entering the room, your eyes immediately fall to the bed. Tommy is stretched out across the mattress, but this is no peaceful slumber. Impossibly long, dark lashes kiss his pale skin as sweat beads across his creased brow. The muscle in his jaw works as his scarred fingers clutch at the rumpled white sheets.

“Tommy,” you murmur softly, once, twice, three times until his eyelids twitch.

A familiar yet unnerving pair of bright blue eyes fly open and his hard gaze instantly meets your own, his chapped lips parting as he rasps your name. “What are you doing here?”

Fighting off the instinct that makes you want to reach for him, you hold your position a few steps away. “You’re late for Arthur’s family meeting. They’re all waiting for you.”

In a flash, he’s sitting up, curses roughly spilling from his mouth. The movement startles you, not least because he’s dressed in only his undershirt and slacks, the sweat-dampened fabric clinging to his skin. He seems vulnerable like this - without the armour of his sharp suits, so perfectly tailored to the hard lines of his body.

Of course, you’ve noticed him. Despite your history, you’re far from immune to his striking appearance. Thomas Shelby has both the look and will of a Greek God. Beautiful and damned.

When Tommy’s attention lands on the pipe discarded on the bedside table, the briefest flicker of shame mars his fine features but it’s gone just as quickly. With a soft groan he begins to straighten himself.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, averting your gaze. Without waiting for an answer, you add, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You raise your head in time to see his lips twitch but there’s no smile for you. Not today. “What would I do without you?”

Your cheeks grow warm and you turn away to fetch a damp washcloth from the adjoining bathroom. The weight of Tommy’s gaze follows you across the room. “I should be the one thanking you,” you call over the sound of the running water.

Tommy waits until you’re by his side again before replying. “I promised him I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

“I think you’ve already gone above and beyond.”

A beat of silence passes between you, not awkward but not quite comfortable either. The scent of the smoke is slowly dispersing but a heaviness lingers in the air. Searching for something to say to offset the tension growing in your chest, you perch on the edge of the bed and angle your body towards him.

“They haunt me, too,” you murmur, offering him the washcloth. “The nightmares.” You might not have witnessed it first hand like Tommy, but at your steadfast request he had painted an unflinching picture of your husband’s final moments. Enough to ensure you plenty of sleepless nights.

Tommy’s piercing eyes search your face and you’d kill for an insight into what he’s thinking. To know what’s going on behind that unwavering stare. Despite your outstretched hand, he’s making no move to take the cloth from your hands.

Tentatively inching closer, you reach out and press the cloth to Tommy’s brow. His eyes shutter, feather-like lashes brushing his delicate cheekbones. Only when you’re certain he’s not going to push you away do you continue, smoothing the cloth along his temple and down to his jaw, carefully erasing the evidence of his troubles.

When his skin is clean you move to pull away, but Tommy places his warm hand over yours, keeping your hand and the cloth pressed against his skin.

“Does it help?” you wonder, almost breathlessly as you nod to the discarded pipe. Time might be ticking as the family waits but you find yourself in no hurry to return to The Garrison.

“I used to think so,” he tells you, firmly holding your gaze. “But now, I’m not so sure. Now…” He trails off. Turning his head ever so slightly, Tommy tilts his jaw until his lips brush against the tips of your fingers.

“And now?” you prompt hoarsely, as his warm breath fans your skin.

“Now, I think it might be better to feel something rather than nothing at all.”

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic

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supertuna-sideblog · 2 months

Text

🍓Pairing: Dance Teacher!Jung Hoseok x F. Reader

🍓 Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

🍓 Word Count: 9.2k

🍓Warnings: negative self thought/talk, swearing, dirty talk, smut, kissing, heavy marking, fingering, unprotected sex, some degradation, requited pining (please let me know if I missed something)

🍓Summary: It's been a year since you started dancing at Hoseok's studio, in that time an easy friendship has bloomed between you both, and maybe a bit more on your part. But Hoseok's just a friend, and there couldn't possibly be more there, right?

🍓 Comments: From the first time I heard Hozier's Eat your young I knew I had to write something with J hope for it. So here we are! Please enjoy!

“5, 6, 7, 8–” his voice carries over the pounding bass that hums through your muscles and bones.

But you can’t think about his voice, you can’t think about anything. Right now you’re focused on the music on the next steps Hoseok planned in the routine. Not the way the sweat-soaked shirt clings to the muscles on his back as he moves from one energetic step to the next.

Your tongue, definitely, doesn’t slip out of your lips to trace along the bottom as your eyes watch a bead of sweat slide down the column of his throat to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt.

You’re focusing on the dance, on the way your body moves in time with the tempo, and how the riffs of the guitar send shivers down your spine when they harmonize just right with the bass. Making sure your hands stay on beat.

Shoes squeak against the polished hardwood. You risk a glance at the girl beside you. Her movements are effortless, fluid, and graceful. A bolt of jealousy heats through you, but your eyes close and you focus again on just you and the music. Hips swivel in time to the chorus. Hoseok’s voice calls out over the music, “final stretch, make it count!”

His favorite thing, to shout in the last measures of the song, the final encouraging push that gets everyone through the last grueling set of an hour long practice, because Hoseok loves to challenge his students and this one, an intermediate class, is no exception.

Your hips chant to the side as your eyes slide open to catch Hoseok’s last moves. Drawn to the way his hands go from fluttering in the air to caress his inner thigh.

Your breath hitches as for a second your mind stalls. Gaze memorizing the way, his lithe fingers trace along the muscle there up to the seam of his hip, where his hand cups a subtle bulge.

Before tracing up the line of his lean body, even in baggy sweats, he looks perfect. His shirt shows just enough skin to get your heart racing, the collar loose enough it’s slipped off his shoulder, the tender flesh stretched over his collarbone tempts you.

As your hungry ogling finishes its course and meets those intense brown eyes, you pale. Fuck, you’ve been caught.

You stumble on the last turn, but catch yourself just in time to face the right direction. Kae-in snickers behind you as heat blooms across your cheeks, and to the tips of your ears.

Thankfully, though no one else has caught your blunder. But pray that Hoseok hadn’t seen it... he didn’t make a comment.

Then again, the last time he’d caught you gawking at him during practice. He’d give you a cheeky wink before cackling at your dumb-struck expression.

The dance finishes with a quick pose. Your legs quiver for a moment, unsure if they can hold your weight. You pushed yourself today, and your body is feeling it everywhere.

Not the smartest move, considering you have your private studio session after this. Other dancers around you pant and huff, catching their own breath. The music cuts and Hoseok claps, along with everyone else.

You manage a weak clap with the others.

“Great work everyone!”

Hoseok's voice is energetically gleeful as he wanders over to the cabinet where the audio setup sits. Like he hasn't been dancing for 8 plus hours.

His fingers move effortlessly as he turns off the music. Shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath. The sweat clinging to his golden skin making it to glow under the fluorescent studio lights.

“Amazing as always class, remember to practice for next week. We’ll have auditions for the spring recital and all that jazz. I hope to see all of you there!”

Everyone takes their time packing up. A gaggle of students having rushed Hoseok to ask about audition ideas. Most of them vying for the last few minutes of class, for his undivided attention.

He’s happy to converse with all of them, girls fawning over him, a few guys in there too. Eagerly asking for advice on their movements and audition ideas.

Which he happily responds with a critique that’s just the right amount of brutal and constructive.

You make it to your bag, a slight wobble in your step, manage a painful kneel, find your water bottle, and take some healthy swigs from the plastic container. Your throat is grateful for the cooling fluid.

Kae-in is beside you in a second, her hoodie already on. She’s put on the hood but left her ears out. She has that look on her face that tells you she saw the entire last measure debacle. Her eyes crinkled in a shit-eating grin as she grabbed her things to leave.

“So wanna go over your little stumble in the last steps?”

You level a glare at her, half tempted to throw your sweat-rag at her, but you resist. Rather, rubbing it along your neck and face, sighing softly as you dry yourself. While you loved dancing, you hated the sweat that came with it.

“I tripped, I do that all the time–” she snickers, leaning close enough that the others packing up don’t hear her.

“I saw the way you were eating him up, not that I don’t blame you–” now the sweat-rag comes out, as you shove the offending thing at her, Kae-in lets out a squeak falling on her butt.

You glare down at her. She has the audacity to pout, like she’s the victim of this!

“I was not, I tripped, and that is all you need to know,” you respond with a mocking pout of your own.

She gets back up and hits your shoulder. You turn to continue the fight sweat-rag at the ready, but she holds up her hands in mock defeat.

“It’s not like you're the first girl to do it, certainly not the last. I mean, look, he’s still being swarmed and I know he’s answered their questions 20 times.”

She smirks as she glances over to the far corner where Hoseok still stands with his gaggle, smiling and laughing.

“I didn’t–” she hushes you and winks.

“You didn’t look, I know, you’ll have plenty of time to do that in the next hour–” you clap a hand over her mouth.

“Kae-in, I love you, but you are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She smiles that squinted eye smile that makes you laugh. You give her one back before standing, removing your hand from her mouth, taking another few drinks of your water before glancing at your phone.

A couple of messages, both from…Hoseok.

How the hell did he send the texts while dealing with all the questions? But you’re checking them before you think to stop yourself.

I’m undecided on food, stuck between bulgogi or jajangmyeon 😛…do you have a preference?��

Also if you’ve already eaten no worries. :3

You can’t help the small smile that lifts the corner of your mouth.

“Ohhhh dinner and a show–”

“Kae-in, I swear if you don’t leave I’m shoving my sweat rag in your mouth and Jin Ho can help you fish it out,” she laughs as she skips just out of your reach.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

She’s gone with the last few stragglers from class. The flock has left with Hobi, probably to get food. You type a quick reply.

I will love you forever if you get me some jajangmyeon <3

As you glance around the studio and check the windows to make sure everyone is gone your phone buzzes in response.

If I knew getting your love was that easy I’d have offered sooner ;)

His texts always make you laugh, and while some small, tiny, insignificant part of you hopes he’s actually flirting you know he isn’t.

He’s your teacher, and yes, you’d consider him a friend at this point. After all, you'd been coming to the studio for a little over a year.

You’d run into him hanging a flier at the local rec center and after a short conversation, he’d handed you a neon pink flier and given you a wide heart-shaped smile before going on his way.

You’d signed up the next week for a beginners class, needing another outlet besides working out on a treadmill.

It’d been a year, discovering a love for dancing you’d never known you had. Also…getting the last hour of the studio all to yourself for a private session didn't hurt.

Especially when Hoseok had offered it to you when you’d mentioned wanting more time to dance besides just doing group work.

“I think you have a talent, and I think if you went out for some competitions you’d surprise yourself,” you’d almost choked on your coffee when he’d mentioned competing. He’d laughed as you coughed.

Hoseok was kind, it was one of the many reasons you’d stayed on with dance, even after being so self conscious about everything. The way you moved for a start, in the beginning the beat just seemed out of reach.

It seemed like your brain would command your limbs to move and it would be just a step off from everyone else. You liked to joke, you had two left feet, but through Hoseok’s diligent, and patient work you’d bloomed…At least you’d like to think you have.

The buzz of your phone pulls you from your thoughts.

At the restaurant, jajangmyeon is gonna be a bit D:

You smile again at his use of emoticons. He texts like a teenager. But you’re quick to reply, so that you can work on your set.

No worries, you know how long I’m here till, also I’m not leaving till I get my promised food ;)

You stand taking your water to the front of the class, the mirrored wall reflects your tired self back at you. You don’t look too long, putting your water down to go to the stereo cabinet.

Phone in hand you find the aux cord, hooking up the device the speakers connect with a loud pop.

Getting into your music app you ponder on what to dance to first, it doesn’t take long before you’re settling on some low and slow music. The songs are just mixes, without vocals.

Just music and beats to focus on, rather than lyrics to muddle your mind, thinking about what steps would go best with them. A deep bass pounds through the amps, vibrating the room with their depths before the subtle electronic chords join the hum.

A cooldown from Hoseok’s fast-paced, hyped music is a welcome change your muscles need. Your movements are slow and languid, letting your body stretch into each move rather than a quick jab and jolt to the next.

You loved Hoseok’s dances.

They lit up something inside you, got your heart pumping. His dances were a mixture of a work out and sex as Kae-in loved to joke. Hoseok put everything into his routines and asked his students to do the same.

You tried hard not to think about all your recent classes with him, in the last few sessions when he’d done an observation he’d come so close to you, watching your every movement.

No matter how many times you’d danced in front of him you felt like a beginner all over again.

Could feel the way his eyes assessed every maneuver. How his hand was quick to correct a move. Quick to straighten your posture, his fingers lingering against the swell of your hip as he demonstrated how to move your hips in the choreo.

Your skin tingled from the touch, your cheeks warm at the thought, the wish that his fingers had stayed on your skin, that they’d moved lower.

You attempt to shake off the thoughts, trying to focus on your dance, matching your made-up choreo to the music. Your hands start at your hips, legs spread wide as you lower into a squat.

Palms cupping your thighs as you spread them for the imaginary audience, or just a singular audience member. A quick bounce and your back up hands trail up your body again, fingers card through your sweat-soaked hair.

Pulling the strands out of the messy bun, slipping the hairband onto your wrist.

You risk a glance to your form in the mirror, again a wave of insecurity takes over. Even as you try to avoid making eye contact. Rather just watching your body move in time with the bass, a roll of your hips that follows the line of your leg to the tips of your toes.

Your body is like water, let the music flow from it.

Another memory, when you first started dancing, and Hobi had started letting you use the last open hour of the studio.

The one-on-one time helped immensely, but also made everything so much worse. From Hobi’s unwavering attention, to his many assisting touches.

How easily he’d stop you during a session to maneuver you, how he’d demonstrate a move you just couldn’t get the hang of.

The heat from his hands all but burning through the loose clothing you wore normally to practice. How you refused to look him in the eye when he had you practice a move in the mirror.

Just watch yourself, that will help.

Sure you try watching yourself in the mirror–

I do it all the time.

You’d made the mistake of looking him in the eye at that moment, in the low green light of the background LEDs they were shadowed and intense.

The way you felt pinned and devoured in that moment, the tension rose and for a moment something stirred inside of you. Your knees shook, stomach swooping, mouth going dry.

The moment broke when Hobi’s lips pulled into his signature smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But that instance had you refusing to look him in the eye for a month.

The remembered conversation heats your cheeks as you try focusing on the last steps of your sultry choreo. Twisting your arms in a spin that ripples down through your body.

Muscles tense and release, the ache from the previous rehearsal is gone. Replaced by the heat of wanting to get started on another.

The song comes to a soft close and your cool down has done nothing to lessen the heat you feel beneath the oversized t-shirt you liked to wear to practice.

As you stretch you consider the time on the wall clock, the cool down took a couple of minutes. Hobi would still be out getting food. And you really hadn’t accomplished much in your session, besides frustrating yourself further.

You huff as your body throbs, in both exhaustion and restlessness.

Like it can’t settle on one feeling over the other, and that adds to your mounting frustration. Walking over to the soundbooth you stop the next track.

Phone in hand you pause over the playlist, not really sure what to dance to next. The usual playlist for you is slow and steady. It helps loosen you up after a hard class and sets you up to relax when you get home.

But tonight none of the songs on the playlist are calling to you, so you leave the usual and venture out into the ever changing mood of your music library. You don’t know what starts it, but there is a song you’ve had in mind for a while now. A few flicks of your thumb brings you to the album.

Another tap and flick, and there it sits. Eat Your Young by Hozier had taken vicious root in your mind ever since you’d heard the beginning scat. The sinful chord riffs and the melodic mournful husk of Hozier’s voice had awakened something, primal, in you.

The lyrics certainly hadn’t helped, the grit and grime to them. Hozier’s music hit all the places in your brain that you needed while dancing. And you just wanted to dance. Not focus on how you are dancing and certainly not focusing on someone else watching you dance.

“Let’s see if you can get me out of my head,” mumbled to yourself, setting the song on loop. You pause though considering the brightness of the dance studio, intent on getting the mood for this song.

Remember Hobi mentioning that sometimes all it takes is a change in lighting for inspiration to strike. This song called for something dark, something carnal.

Taking the remote you turn off the main lights, the fluorescent bulbs flicker off, and with another push of a button the LEDs glow to life.

Hobi was quite proud of his LEDs; he'd spent an entire weekend sticking them to every inch of the ceiling, making sure they were perfectly aligned so that the room would be filled with the glow of the multicolor lights. He’d left them on a cool blue, probably when he was setting up for class earlier. A few clicks and blue bleeds into a deep red.

Basking in the lights for a moment, your fingers toy with the hem of your oversized shirt wanting to just throw the thing off. Overheated from class, and relief seems like it’ll only come from losing the garment.

You consider for a moment, Hobi won’t be back for a bit. You get the dancing out of your system, and the heat off of your skin. Before you can talk yourself out of it you're shucking the sweat coated fabric off.

Your skin cries in relief as it’s exposed to the chill of the studio, in only your sports bra and loose sweats you let the music overtake you.

You let the first bangs of the drum move you, your shoulders jolting with the bass. Rolling into a leisure sway as Hozier's voice echoes in the small studio. The bass ripples through your body, you feel your heart matching its hypnotizing beat.

I’m starving, darling, let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Your fingers trace the edge of your lips. You take a soft bite of your fingertip, before tracing it down your chin, throat, between your sport bra covered breasts to wrap around your abdomen where your hips sway in a lazy pattern.

Start carving, darling, I wanna smell the dinner cooking

Wanna feel the edge start burn

You keep more to the middle of the room, exploring the small space around you. Your legs widen their stance as you dip down from your waist dragging your clawed hands over your legs back up your body to your throat.

Honey, I wanna race you to the table

If you hesitate the gettin’ is gone

You close your eyes, just enjoying the movement of your body and the intensity of the song. As the violins pitch higher and their notes grow frantic your breath pants as you meet their dissonant call.

Get some

Pull up the ladder when the flood comes

Throw enough rope until their legs have swung

Seven new ways that you can eat your young

Moves become more turbulent but there is still that underlying calm and control to your dance. Hobi is about precision in his seemingly erratic movements, yours have a much less practiced feel to them, even as you lull from one move to the next.

You’re so close to losing focus, letting Hoizer’s honeyed voice wash over your mind, the tickle of his falsetto sending a shiver down your spine. So close to losing inhibition, be free of the cage that is your mind, just dancing, instead of judging and stalling.

But you stumble a move not hitting at the time you’d hoped it would, and then like a line of dominos one move then another starts to crumble your resolve.

You huff, eyes scrunching in frustration as you attempt the movement again, a simple move, you’ve done it a thousand times in class, but your muscles won’t obey and your hips feel off, like they’ve slipped out of joint for a moment. And again while your brain signals to your body to move, nothing listens.

You growl in annoyance, sweat dripping from your scalp, drops slithering their way down your neck, pooling uncomfortably in your bra. As you miss one beat then the next and now you’re behind in the music.

Left foot forward, sway your hip, let the movement flow from your hip to your knee to your ankle. But fail again as your joints lock and refuse to flow as they once did, your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands, wanting so badly for this stupid move to hit.

For muscles to relax and just get this dance done.

Hands settle easily on your hips, and everything halts, a soft gasp leaves you. Music fading to the background as all you can hear is a high pitched chime in your ears. Your hands come up out of reaction, nails dig into the soft flesh of his hands in a panic.

Hobi grunts softly at the sudden pain of your blunted nails in his skin. But the panic ebbs as you recognize those long fingers beneath your own. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet, you had time, your mind races.

“Come on,” his voice is soft in the shell of your ear, “you know this move.”

Hobi’s hands are solid as they keep your hips trapped between his palms. His thumbs settle just above the band of your sweats, the heat of him sparks across sensitive flesh. He maneuvers you with ease, rolling your left hip forward and letting the right follow.

The grip of his fingers as they press into the fat sends a shock of pleasure coiling up your spine.

“Yeah, just like that,” he mumbles again, his breath is warm as it fans over your ear, cheek and neck. Skin prickling as goosebumps rise in its wake. The smell of him overwhelms, the sweet spice of a cologne you can’t name.

You finally muster the courage to open your eyes. Glancing down at Hobi’s hands still there on your hips. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, as you look down then up. Meeting his eyes in the red glow, your breath hitches, and your gaze drops again.

“Oh no,” like lightning, he strikes, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin between thumb and forefinger. His grip forces your face up, body tensing as he presses himself against you.

Your hand chases his grasping at his wrist. Your fingers find purchase on the multitude of bracelets there. Fingernail catching on the beads of a bracelet you know one of his younger students made for him.

“Hobi–”

The fabric of his t-shirt does little to defend against the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest contouring to the curves of your back. Your mind can’t ignore the way he so effortlessly molds into you. Two puzzle pieces connecting together so easily, but while your bodies contour so easily, you feel trapped beneath his steely gaze.

You refuse to look at him; you feel exposed, judged and assessed by those eyes.

“Look at me.”

The order is spoken low in his chest, feel the vibration of his voice against your shoulder blades. The tone makes you shiver, another bolt of warm pleasure strikes you. Warming your cheeks, and sending your mind reeling.

You follow his command slow, and unwilling, your heart beats against your ribcage, a wild indeterminable pattern. His fingers clench, digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. You wince a bit at the pain, but finally you meet his eyes again.

In the red light they look black, taking you in, those dark eyes burning a trail from your toes up your left leg, pausing at your hip, the hand there clenching for a moment. Thumb brushing along your skin above your hip bone sending a new wave of goosebumps along your skin.

Tracing the curve of your waist, pausing at the swell of your breasts, covered by your sports bra. Up to the dip of your collarbone, you watch as he leans forward his lips so close to your skin. His breath warm before he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

A weak gasp leaves you as the touch of his lips sends a throb through you. A heat grows in your innards, muscles clench, breath hitching as he meets your gaze.

“Hobi, what–”

“No hiding from me tonight.”

Mouth agape as you struggle to find your voice, Hobi smiles. It’s a slow pull of lips over teeth, the glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze. His thumb rubs along the edge of your jaw.

The touch sparking a new sensation with every stroke against your skin, his breath warm over your cheek. You’re aware of every touch, every atom of him that’s against you beside you. You’re greedy for more.

“’m not hiding,” you finally mumble and he chuckles, another warm huff of breath over your skin, his lips brush against your neck.

“You’ve been hiding every class,” he mumbles as he presses closer, the hand on your hip sliding along the edge of your sweats, slipping from under your hand, though you don’t stop it, coming to a stop over your abdomen.

You swear your heart stops as you feel the heat of his palm just beneath your belly button. Fingertips toying at the hem of your sweats, so close to slipping beneath the fabric.

“Thinking I don’t know you’re watching my every move, where your eyes linger a bit too long.”

He chuckles into your neck the tip of his nose traces along the length of skin. His lips find your pulse and he laughs softly as you whine, distantly you catch that the song has looped. The deep bass starting again. “Not that I mind.”

“Who wouldn’t watch you,” a breathless retort as Hobi smiles, considering you in the mirror for a moment.

His eyes shine and then his smile turns sinister, his nuzzle pauses and then he’s biting your neck. A shriek of pain leaves you and you leap from his grip. He lets you get away, though by the clench of his fingers you sense he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

The distance helps, your mind clearing as you turn backing up into the studio mirror wall. Pressing yourself against the cool surface, fingers finding the bite mark on your neck. Pulse hammering against your fingertips.

The jolt of pain ebbs into a lingering throb. One that doesn’t help the pulse between your legs. It makes you want to tense your thighs to relieve the ache there.

Leveling a look at Hoseok trying to get your bearings. He’s quiet, those eyes shadowed by his long bangs, you see his jaw shift as he considers you. You're teetering on the edge of something. Backed up to the cliff's edge and you're not sure if you’re ready to plunge off.

“Hoseok–”

“If you don’t want this, I’ll stop.”

His voice is soft, beneath the croon of Hozier’s voice, for a moment he looks like the Hobi you’re used to. The one you can handle. The friend who is always eager to laugh, the one you fall into easy conversation with, the one you figured would never consider you like he is now.

“I–” your voice hitches, confusion clouding your mind as your fingers trace the mark of his teeth in your flesh.

You lean your head back, your head meets the mirror with a soft thud, the music swells again, eyes closed as you consider for a moment what continuing this means.

I won’t lie, if there’s something still to take

There is ground to break, whatever’s still to come

You don’t hear him move over the thrumming bass. He cages you in, his hands rest above your shoulders as he encompasses you. His breath is warm as it glides over your face.

Your eyes flutter open and take in the man before you. The chiseled perfection that is his face, the sharp jut of his chin, the soft rounded apples of his cheeks.

His lips, usually pulled in that sweet heart-shaped smile are drawn together in a firm line as those dark eyes watch you from under the curled mess that is his bangs. He’s still in his practice outfit, the same baggy t-shirt, and even baggier sweats. They overwhelm the lithe frame that you’ve so badly wanted a chance to see.

It makes you want to squirm away to avoid his gaze as you’ve always done, he leans down nose brushing against yours.

“Don’t hide away from me, I’m tired of trying to make you look.”

His voice is soft and your heart stutters. As you look at him, truly look at him. The longing in those dark eyes, the downturn of his lips. The little freckle on his cupid’s bow. You want him, hell you’ve wanted him since the day you took the neon pink flier from his painted fingers.

“Hoseok, I–I want you–”

It’s like you’ve opened the floodgates, he’s dropping down lips finding yours in the dim red glow of the lights. At first the kiss is soft, like he’s worried you’ll change your mind, pull away that you spoke before you could voice what you really wanted to say.

But no, you press into the kiss. Slot your lips against his with a fervor you haven’t felt for someone in years. Your fingers thread through the curled locks of his hair, pulling him closer.

He groans into your lips, tongue slipping out to trace the bottom, asking entrance which you easily grant. The way his tongue swirls into your mouth has you whining, knees locking as your mind thinks for a moment how that tongue would feel against your clit. Which gives a painful throb in response.

His tongue dances with your own, easily slipping along the appendage with ease, he chuckles as your tongue chases him as he pulls back. He presses closer, body molding to yours as you press back against the mirror.

He huffs softly into the curve of your neck, where he bit you only moments before. He chuckles and presses a kiss into the mark.

“Sorry, heard the lyrics and, well, I couldn’t help myself–”

Your fingers pull on his locks still trapped in their grip, the groan that leaves his chest makes you shiver. His eyes roll in their sockets as they look up at you, with his jaw dropping you whine seeing the tip of his tongue trace the path along his bottom lip.

“Hobi, please–”

“Please what?” He teases, his hands sliding down the mirror back to your hips where he presses you against the wall.

His thumbs sweep against the joint where hip and thigh meet. His mouth goes back to press kisses against your neck. Finding where you pulse beats and sucking another mark there.

You feel him smile against your skin as you whine, hands leaving his hair to grasp his shoulders. To move him to do something, because your cunt is empty and aching, and only getting words as his mouth makes new marks along your collarbone and neck. You need something more than just the teasing he’s giving you.

“Hobi–”

“Use your words baby, I need to hear what you want.”

His voice is a muttered groan against your throat as he kisses his way up to your ear. Taking the lobe between his teeth, he huffs a laugh as your nails dig impatiently into his shoulders.

“Want to feel you, need to feel you–fuck,” you don’t know what you want to say, though your hips pressing into the palms of his hands are an indication that you need friction.

He sucks on the shell of your ear, nipping the cartilage and smirking when you moan softly.

“Then be a good girl, and listen,” his voice is soft, and your eyes meet his as he pulls back. Hobi is gone, back is the Hoseok who makes every muscle in your body tremble after a hard dance practice. The one that makes you shiver. “Turn around, face the mirror.”

He pulls back, his warmth leaving your skin makes you tremble, but you’re quick to comply. Turning and pressing yourself to the mirror, hands level with your shoulders. Your legs spread shoulder width apart. You risk a glance up in the mirror.

Hoseok stands back observing you, eyes traveling down the exposed flesh of your back, eyes lingering on the curve of your hip, that disappears into the baggy expanse of your sweats. Before they drag back up and meet your gaze in the mirror. You’re quick to look away.

“Uh uh, no looking away tonight baby, eyes on me.”

You know he means it, the threat is clear in his voice, and all you want is for Hobi to touch you, to do something. So with reluctance your eyes come back up, meeting his gaze even as it makes you squirm.

“Good girl, listening so well.”

You preen at his praise, half tempted to spread your legs wider, but you resist as he returns to press against you. His lithe body molds, again so perfectly, into the curves of your own.

His hands find purchase on your hips, slipping forward to a stop over the ties of your sweats. His index finger curls the tie around toying with the simple knot.

Your gaze is still locked with Hoseok's in the mirror, watching his lips pull into another smirk as he leans forward pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Eyes never leaving yours as your hips press back into his, feeling the weight of a bulge between the globes of your ass. He lets out a grunt, grinding himself into you.

A breathy laugh leaves him.

“So eager, aren’t you?”

He whispers into your ear the hand not toying with your sweats, drifts higher. Fingers trace patterns along the curve of your waist stopping to tease the edge of your sports bra. The material is thin, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you as his finger traces up the swell of your breast.

The tip of his finger finding your nipple and swirling around the bud. He groans into your neck as he feels the flesh pebble beneath his touch. His lips and teeth attack your neck and shoulder. Marking the skin with nips, and then soothing the sting with his tongue and lips.

His hand gropes at your breast enjoying the softness of your flesh as it molds to his hand.

“Hoseok,” your voice is soft, a needy whine as your fingers flex against the mirror surface and your eyes watch his hands. Wanting so badly for him to loosen the tie, to slip beneath the waistband and delve lower.

“What baby?” He mumbles into your ear giving the lobe another nip which you gasp at the pain of, your hips press back and you smile as he moans into your hair the bulge growing as he toys with you. “What do you want?”

“Please, fuck, your fingers–” your plea is silenced by another bite, this one sinking into the meat of your shoulder. A wispy whine leaves you, and Hoseok soothes the mark with another kiss.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

Another command and you obey.

“Need to feel your fingers on my cunt, or just fuck - in my cunt, please,” the noise he makes has your knees locking, fingers curling, nails scraping against glass.

It’s like lighting a match, his fingers yank the tie, the hem of your sweats sag, loose enough he’s able to slip under the fabric.

He cups your mound, the moan that leaves you is guttural, your body humming with need. Gasping as he cups you through your panties. The thin fabric soaked, his finger easily toying with your clit through the cotton barrier.

“Fuck, if I’d known you were this wet, wouldn��t have taken my time.”

He breaths into your ear, the tip of his finger swirling in indiscernible patterns around your clit. The friction is nice, but his touches are soft, delicate.

Not what you need even as you whine and attempt to grind into his hand. The hand at your breast teases and pinches your nipple. The pleasure and pain mingle in your mind. Your eyelids flutter closed as your fingers curl against the mirror.

“Eyes,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Ever obedient you obey, eyes peeling open, finding his dark hazel gaze. Your innards stir, cunt clenching as you take in Hoseok’s appearance.

His hair is disheveled, the brown locks curling around his face, the bangs sweeping over his brow, giving him a shadowed look.

Darkening his eyes, sending another throb of need through you, as his intense gaze burns every inch of you.

His tongue flicks out every now and again wetting his bottom lip as he presses more kisses along the expanse of your shoulders. He leaves marks in his wake, the spots sting, but Hoseok is always quick to soothe them with a soft kiss or a kitten lick of his tongue.

You know you’ll be covered in his marks by the time he’s done. It makes your cunt flutter at the thought and you moan, pressing your forehead to the mirror.

You find Hoseok again, his gaze still locked onto yours. In the red glow of the lights he looks otherworldly, the shadows of his face almost black against the blood red of the highlights.

A demon you’d happily sell your soul to for nothing if only to gaze at his face a bit longer.

You're pulled out of your musings when Hoseok’s fingers with a quick flick push aside the barrier of your panties to finally touch your clit. The soft stroke of his finger along the neglected bud has you keening. The sudden spike of pleasure makes you jolt away from the sudden onslaught.

But Hoseok’s prepared for your retreat pressing you up against the mirror, he traps your hips with his own. The hand at your breast moves to grasp at your hip, pinning you to him. Huffing a laugh into the column of your throat giving the skin there another bite.

“No running away either,” he growls, his finger traces along the hood of your clit, before delving lower and pressing against the bud. The pleasure zaps through you, your cunt gushes, your knees quiver as you buck into his hand with another yelp of pleasure.

“Fuck, Hoseok–”

“Feel good?” He asks, watching his lips pull into a wicked smile as you mewl and pant against the mirror. Breath fogging over the smooth surface. The chill of it helps to alleviate some of the heat coming from both of you.

His pattern changes again, pressing again on your clit as your cunt throbs and your breath comes out in a quivering pant.

“Yes–fuck yes, feels so good–”

Hoseok presses more against you, rutting his hips into your ass, the hard length of his shaft nestled perfectly between the globes of your ass. He pants softly into your ear nuzzling another kiss into the corner of your jaw. Groaning as you press back into him meeting his every movement.

“Fuck baby, feel so good and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You whine in reply as his fingers venture lower, the feeling of his finger slipping into your folds teasing your wet opening. He chuckles into your neck.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers and you feel his lips sucking another mark onto your neck. Another gush of slick and Hoseok groans.

“What do you want?”

“Please–”

“Words, baby, I need to hear you say it.”

“Need your fingers in me, please, please stop teasing–”

He doesn’t wait for your plea to finish thrusting one long finger into you, your plea dies with a soft whine. He starts a slow steady pace, your cunt fluttering around his finger.

Just when you think you’re used to the first finger he adds another, your hips grind into his hand and his hips. All of his focus on fucking you open with his fingers.

“F–fuck, so tight,” the whisper of his voice makes your cunt clench, the twitch of his cock against your ass makes you moan. Your eyes struggle to stay open, as Hoseok’s own bore into you, watching the way your jaw drops open your eyes roll back as the tip of his finger rubs just right against that spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again and again.

The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust.

“Fuck Hoseok, fuck your fingers feel so good–” You babble, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The one you’ve been hanging on to for the last hour.

Hoseok presses closer, feeling the way your body tenses, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and feels the warm slick dripping down his fingers, and your thighs, soaking your sweats.

“You gonna come, huh?”

He rasps against your ear pressing a kiss to the shell, the sounds of his voice makes your cunt flutter again. As his fingers thrust in again, he scissors the digits, there's a hint of pain cutting through the pleasure, but it only serves to push you closer.

As you gasp, fingers scramble against the mirrored wall. You whine, pressing desperately against him, he responds in kind, rutting his clothed cock against you harder.

“I’m so close, please,” your voice is a soft mewl as your hips grind desperately into his hand. Hoseok’s voice is breathless as he speeds up his hand. The wet noise of his fingers fucking you open mingle with the song still looping, again and again.

“Come for me,” he growls, fingers flexing into your hip, and his teeth find the meat of your shoulder again.

The sound of his command, the tension breaks, your body stills mouth dropping open in a silent cry as your body twitches. Cunt quivering around his fingers as he fucks you through your release. He groans, fingers slowing, the heel of his palm coming to rest against your oversensitive clit.

You let out a soft whine, as his palm grinds against you, fingers curling and rubbing against your walls. You pant, coming down from your high, finding Hoseok watching you in the mirror.

“Fuck, so pretty when you come.”

His praise makes you embarrassed, you go to hide from him again. The hand on your hip is quick grasping your chin and keeping you pinned beneath his gaze.

“No hiding,” his fingers flex against your neck. You shiver finding his dark gaze, those deep pits devouring you whole. As you greedily do the same.

“Hoseok,” you whisper his name, and he groans softly pressing into you. His fingers still buried in your cunt, the movement makes you gasp. Still sensitive from your first climax. “Hoseok, fuck me, need to feel you–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his fingers turn your head enough that he’s able to press a messy kiss to the corner of your lips. You follow his lead, pressing messy, needy kisses to his lips, wanting badly to reach more of him. But he only allows so much movement from your prone position against the mirror.

You jolt as his fingers slip from you, how empty your cunt feels without them. His hand leaves your neck, slipping down your back to grasp at the hem of your sweats, the other hand still wet with your slick goes to your other hip.

With a quick jerk your sweats and panties are pulled down, you gasp into Hoseok’s kiss as your cunt is exposed to the cool of the room. His foot slips between yours and with a soft nudge he coaxes your legs further apart.

You try to ignore that you can feel the slick clinging to your folds, and trails of it dripping down your thighs, you're still soaked and quivering for more.

Hoseok’s hands leave you for a moment, the soft rush of fabric, and then the heat of his cock settles between your ass cheeks again. He’s big and your eyes flutter at the thought of him filling you, Hoseok chuckles against your lips.

“What’s going on in that mind baby?”

You whine, pressing another messy kiss into his lips, as his hands find their way back to your hips, one slipping forward and finding your clit again to trace soft patterns into the bud.

“Need your cock, fuck, need it so bad Hoseok,” you gasp into his mouth, tongue slipping out to trace along his bottom lip, his own slips out to tangle with yours. He doesn’t reply, instead he maneuvers you both.

Backing up he pulls at your hips. Your front still pressed to the mirror, this new position forces your back to bow, and your legs spread, cunt all but on display for him.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, a groan of appreciation as his hands wander over the curve of your ass, and his fingers toy again with your weeping folds. You whine and buck into his hands. Wanting so badly to be filled again.

Hoseok chuckles before sliding behind you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the head of his cock press between your folds. A sharp smack to your ass has you jolting, a pained grunt leaving you as your eyes snap open to glare at Hoseok, who gives you a wide smirk back.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Eyes. On. Me.”

He gives a smack to your ass, punctuating every word, your ass cheeks sting from his strikes, soft needy whimpers leave you. Hoseok groans as he feels more slick drip onto his cock.

“Gonna fuckin wreck you, baby,” he huffs and you nod, he presses in, the head of his cock stretches you like his fingers couldn’t.

A moan catches in your throat has he takes his time, fucking into you inch by slow inch. Feeling every quiver, throb and flutter of your cunt around him. Hoseok is panting above you as he finally bottoms out. He’s thick, his cock filling you deliciously full.

Your eyelids flutter, but you refuse to look away, watching as Hoseok’s jaw drops, the groan that leaves him as he fucks fully into you. The delicious sensations overwhelming him for a moment as your cunt clenches around him.

“Fuck, baby, fuck you feel so good,” he pauses, whether to let you adjust to him or to just feel you.

You don’t know, his fingers flex, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he presses himself into you.

“Fuck–wanted this for so long.”

His mumble has you jolting, but before you can ask him what he means, his hands grasp your hips, fingertips digging into soft fat, finding purchase as he pulls out. Slow again, you both groan as the wet sounds of your coupling fill the room.

Your cunt clenches around him, needing him to fill you again. He pulls out till only the head remains inside, before fucking back in. Faster now that you're used to him. The slap of his hips against your ass echoes in the practice room.

“Fuck, Hoseok, please, faster–need you to fuck me,” you beg him, tired of the foreplay. You need him to destroy your cunt. Need to feel that unhinged energy you’d witnessed so many times in class, been so close to tasting in the year you’d been dancing with him.

“Don’t have to tell me twice baby,” he growls, and it’s all he needs.

His grip tightens on your hips and his lips bare his teeth in a feral snarl as his hips set a fast, rough pace.

He fucks into you with the abandon you’ve seen him dance with.

Taking his lower lip between his teeth as he thrusts hard and fast. Jolting you against the mirror, Hoseok pants and grunts with every thrust.

“Fuck look at you,” he mutters, voice a panted growl as he fucks harder into you. The length of his cock fills you again and again. The head of his cock grinding just right against your soaked walls.

“Look so good up against the mirror creaming all over my cock, fuck knew you’d look so pretty getting fucked on my cock.”

His words has your cunt gushing, and you answer his praise with little mewls and moans as he fucks you stupid against the mirror. His cock strokes against every part of your cunt, as he fucks you full.

The slap of his hips against your ass punctuate between lulls in the music. Your skin glows with sweat, your back arches as you press your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Moaning, and crying as he fucks you. Hoseok answers your noises with grunts and growls of his own. Gasping when your cunt flutters around him, signaling you're close again. Hoseok wants to bring you there again, to watch your body give everything to him.

“You close baby?” He growls between thrusts as his fingernails bite halfmoon marks into your skin. The pain only serves to pull you deeper into pleasure.

“Yes, fuck, yes–I’m soclose–”

He leans over your form one arm wrapping around your waist, the other placing a hand above you on the mirror, and with another quick kiss to your shoulder he ups his pace. Fucking into you with a speed none of your previous partners had ever reached.

Your climax hits you suddenly, as his hips piston in and out of you, you come around his cock with a sudden broken cry. Your cunt convulsing around his cock as he fucks you through your second orgasm of the night, his hand slithers down between your legs finding your clit.

Rubbing the little bundle of nerves you keen.

“Fuck! Hoseok!” Your body writhes attempting to get away from the sudden onslaught of pleasure as he keeps pistoning into your abused cunt. The pleasure rises again suddenly as your knees lock, and Hoseok’s cock throbs in your still pulsing cunt.

He gasps, as your cum again, sudden and blinding, white flashing before your eyes as you writhe in the prison that is his body. Warmth drips down your legs, and onto his.

“Fuck–” Hoseok groans as his cock twitches in your cunt, the warmth of his release painting your walls. He buries himself inside of you, both of you softly moaning as you feel his come fill you.

Your body shudders as you both remain there, your legs quivering, the only thing keeping you up at the moment is Hoseok’s solid arm around your waist. Muscles screaming for rest. Your mind rebooting as you process what the fuck just happened.

Hoseok’s breath is warm as he remains hunched over you. His cock softening, as it weeps the last few drops of his release into you. When he pulls out you both gasp, you shiver as you feel the mixture of your releases leak from your abused cunt.

Hoseok pulls back from you.

There’s the rustle of fabric, Hoseok tucking himself back into his own sweats. You linger for a moment, your body unwilling to move just yet. Also, unwilling to look at Hoseok head on.

The sounds of his footsteps going to the cabinet. The bass of the song interrupted as he pauses your phone. He’s brought the original lights back on as the darkness behind your eyelids brightened.

You know you need to address whatever the hell just happened, but another part of you just wants to bury your head in the sand. Not think about this, maybe move to an entirely new town.

You jolt as you feel Hoseok’s hands on your sweats, pulling them up and covering you from the chill of the room. You don’t mind that your panties will be ruined…hell your sweats probably are too.

“Come on, you gotta open your eyes at some point.”

He speaks softly as he finishes getting your sweats back to their original position, you almost want to play dumb. You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want. But you also just want to get this over with.

Opening them you finally look at Hoseok in the mirror.

He’s watching you, though this time not like before. Those soft hazel eyes looking at you like he’s waiting for the worst to happen.

You blink before turning around to actually look at him, he’s standing a bit back from you. Hands twisting behind him, so different from the Hoseok you’d very much just enjoyed fucking moments before.

“Listen–”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Hoseok shuts you up before you could even formulate a sentence. You blink at him, speaking before thinking.

“What do you mean you’ve–”

“Since I handed you the flier and you started coming to class.”

He looks guilty, like he just pressured you into something, for a second your mind stalls, because you are a grown adult and you wholeheartedly consented to what just happened.

You don’t think as you step forward to press a kiss to his mouth, one he is quick in reciprocating. His hands find their way back to your hips as his tongue swirls with yours. You pull back your mind going fuzzy again. Your cunt is already wet at the thought of another round.

“I wanted to do that too, but fuck Hobi, you could have been a bit more obvious–”

“Obvious!? I was all over you in class, my dances got a lot more risque when I knew you were watching.”

You jolt, blinking up at him with something akin to the surprise Pikachu face. Hobi can’t stop the sudden laugh at your expression. But you’re melting into his hands as his thumbs rub circles into your hip bones. Your fingers clutch onto his arms as you blink owl-like in your confusion.

“You…were?”

“Oh my gosh girl,” he laughs leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “I was trying so hard for you to see me.”

“Hobi I see you, you’re all I see, your dancing, your laugh…everything.”

Both of you standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Just ruminating on what’s been spoken. His hands are warm, as he pulls you closer nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist.

“So…where do we go from here?” You mumble into the warmth of his chest.

He smells wonderful, the musk of his sweat mixed with the heady spice of his cologne. You would stay here forever if you could. You sense he’s about to answer, but the loud gurgle of your stomach interrupts.

The laugh that leaves both of you echoes in the dance studio. You look up and meet those hazel eyes again, as he shoots you a wide heart-shaped smile and gives you a soft peck on the forehead.

“Let’s eat first and then we can figure out the heavy stuff, though I recall you stating your undying love to me if I got you jajangmyeon.”

His smile somehow widens as you laugh, fully intent on showing him how appreciative you are for the jajangmyeon, and for everything else.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #j hope x reader #j hope x you #jung hoseok smut #j hope smut #j hope #bts fanfic #j hope imagine #jung hoseok #bts x reader #jhope #j hope bts #bangtan jhope #jhope fanfic

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am-i-interrupting · 2 months

Text

A Broadcast For Bitch Breakfast | Vox

Summary: It’s the anniversary of Alastor going missing. Upset he left without a word, left you to deal with his shit, and maybe a bit worried that he may actually be gone, it doesn’t take much for Vox to convince you to go back to his place. Perhaps a bad decision but Husk is right, it’ll make an excellent story for (what he calls) your bitch breakfast with Rosie tomorrow.

Warnings: 18+, implied cannibalism, drinking, choking, oral, P in V

You didn’t want to get out of bed. Your body felt sluggish. Your head was aching. Moving a single finger felt like moving a ton of bricks. You hadn’t even lifted up your blanket and you already wanted the day to be over.

You groaned, nuzzling your face into the pillow. You hadn’t managed to get much sleep at all. Not exactly an uncommon experience for a denizen of hell but normally you could get more than an hour of sleep.

However, today was an anniversary and you knew it. You wished you didn’t. Then maybe this wouldn’t happen every year. Perhaps the third time was the charm, and next year you could get some sleep this night. It seemed doubtful though.

With slow movements, you got up. You switched on your radio, set only to one channel, as you picked out your clothes for the day. Radio silence filled the air and feeling petty, you grabbed a mock flapper dress.

You bought it years ago as a joke, just to piss Alastor off. With the reverse now happening, it seemed like the perfect time to bring it out again.

The dress was a fitted number in your most flattering color. It was off the shoulder with tassels hanging from the top and bottom, brushing against your arms and legs. The real kicker (or at least the thing that caused Alastor’s eyes to narrow and his smile to tighten) was on either side of your waist there were cut outs, showcasing skin. In fact, the whole dress showcased things that a true flapper dress would hide instead of showcase. The only thing that made it even resemble a flapper dress slightly was the beading and tassels.

Regardless, you did your makeup and hair true to fashion for the 1920s but put on some heels that were too tall and too clunky to be accurate.

Ready for the day, you walked out the door.

You passed by sinners and imps alike. None up to anything good, you were sure. Not once were you bothered but you couldn’t help but think how it wasn’t like it used to be.

Every morning for nearly as long as you’d been in hell, Alastor would wait outside your door for you to walk out or you’d invite him in, asking for his opinion on things as you got ready. Then he’d escort you to Cannibal Town for breakfast with Rosie. That stopped two years ago when Alastor disappeared.

Still, you found yourself missing the effect he had on other people. Back then people darted off as soon as they saw him. Now people looked at you and either didn’t know who you were or gave you a slightly weirder berth if they did.

At least in Cannibal Town, people still acted the same. They all smiled. They greeted you with an occasional small bow of the head, one shook your hand then turned it to place a kiss on it.

Cannibal Town remained more or less the same. It was a nice consistency.

“Oh, there you are, dear!” Rosie said, spinning around to face you with a plate in hand, tea cups and a kettle sitting atop it. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming today. Glad to see I was wrong. Come, come, sit. I was just about to grab some snacks. I’ll be right back with it.”

“Thank you, Rosie,” you said as she disappeared.

“Of course, dear, of course. Can’t let you go hungry, can I?”

She came back with a thigh in hand. She placed it in the center of the table and sat herself down. A still steaming cup of tea was brought to her lips. She sighed with a now content smile on her face. She looked you over carefully and that smile turned amused.

“Still no broadcast?” she asked with a nod to your outfit.

“Oh, no. I know he’ll make himself known when he wants to but still,” you said.

Rosie nodded in agreement. “For a man who prides himself on taking such good care of his ladies, he sure does keep us worrying.”

The rest of breakfast was filled with a combination of silence and gossip. It seemed like mere seconds had passed and it was suddenly time for Rosie to open.

“Are you going to check on Alastor’s souls?” Rosie asked as she made sure some things were in place.

“I do it weekly,” you reminded her. “At least with Nifty and Husk.”

“Okay, well, you have a good day, hon.”

“You too, Rosie.”

“Oh!” She caught your arm before you could leave. “I’ve heard talk of some kid trying to be the next up and coming overlord. He’s been getting a bit close to Alastor’s territory. He’s not any kind of real threat but if you wanted to blow off some steam and show him who’s boss. . .”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You did listen to Rosie. You found him easily and he truly wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, even as someone who wasn’t an overlord.

The past two years had been a prime time to grow your power and influence with the absence of Alastor. Not that he’d been holding you back. No, he’d encourage you actually but you never had any reason to, nothing to fight for. With the absence of Alastor less souls went to him for deals and with you taking responsibility for keeping his territory from falling to others found you instead.

You could do a stand in, sure. A couple souls here and there was no problem but you weren’t completely comfortable with the idea of being a full blown overlord yet. You’d take care of his people’s problems when they came to you (and the few you’d taken a liking to even when they didn’t). You’d go to meetings in his place. However, the responsibility was not nothing and it kept you busy even on the lazy days.

You found Nifty and listened to her chat your ear off about a story idea she had as she darted around cleaning. You mentioned off handedly that you could use some help cleaning up your own place since you’d rarely had the time and her smile gave you one of your own.

When night came, you went to the bar you knew Husk frequented. You found him at a table with others, drinking and gambling like you were sure you would.

You sent him a small wave but didn’t speak. Instead you ordered yourself a drink and started casually chatting and moving around, keeping his table in your general vicinity and the cards of others in your eye line. Round after round he won with a combination of his own cheating being aided by yours.

Sat on a stool with a drink in your hand, your attention had been on the truly shitty hand the lamb demon had until the sound of the door opening and a familiar voice hit you. Your head snapped.

Vox waltzed in with a phone by his head and a grimace on his face.

You hadn’t talked to Vox much unless strictly necessary. The only time you actively seemed him out was actually on this very day two years ago. You’d marched onto his office, grabbed him by the lapels of his suit (that he wasn’t wearing right now, odd) and yelled at him demanding to know where Alastor was.

Needless to say the two of you hadn’t had many conversations before that and after? Well, you only spoke to fire back against his points at overlord meetings, spurred on by Rosie beside you who would never say anything but wear a grin and the thought that Alastor would get a kick out of Vox being knocked down several pegs.

You’d just finished your first glass of the night, not going out with the intention of being wasted (you couldn’t help Husk cheat if you were), when Vox sat down right beside you.

“Get me a rye,” Vox said to the bar tender.

You pushed your glass using two fingers. “Make that two, would you?”

Vox glanced at you and then did a double take. “Well, well, if it isn’t Alastor’s little helper?”

“Better than being his fan club,” you retorted.

Vox’s screen did the smallest glitch, just a bit of static electricity coming into the air. He played it off with a scoff of a laugh.

Oddly enough, he didn’t say anything. Instead he simply held his whisky glass in his hand. The liquid inside swished as his hand moved.

You took a sip of your own rye. A fan of it or not, it brought back those memories. You leaned back in your seat. Your glass clanked as you say it down with a bit more force than necessary.

“Rye’s Alastor’s favorite,” you said suddenly.

“I know.” You turned to look at him with a curious countenance. “Alastor and I have a long, complicated history.”

“Really now? I would have never guessed,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words.

There was silence for a moment and then, “Did he really never talk about me?”

You were feeling nostalgic, you already knew. Despite the resentment, despite the anger you knew was there, you couldn’t help but indulge him. The alcohol having softened the shell that was those feelings to reveal the truth that you really just missed him.

“Oh, he talked about you. Muttering under his breath about you ever time he saw you but he’s a secretive man. He’ll talk about everything except himself,” you answered.

Vox hummed to himself. “What about you?”

“What exactly about me, Mister Vox?” you asked, leaning closer to him.

“Would you say you’re the same or do your similarities with Alastor start and end with appearance?”

“What’s it to you? Looking for a new nemesis?”

“A man can dream.”

It was your turn to scoff. You turned your head away from Vox only to be met with Husk’s attention half on you and half on the game he was playing. He raised a brow at you, his claws drumming against the wooden table. You glanced down at the cards in his hand. You could see a small exhale leave his body before he did the same.

“You know, I always have wondered—“ you hadn’t even turned around to face Vox when you felt a hand on your ear— “what these felt like.”

Your back went rigid. No one had ever touched your ears save for Rosie and Nifty. Rosie when she felt like doing your hair and Nifty through scrambling up your body like you were her personal jungle gym.

“Vox, what are you—“

Your vocal cords betrayed you as you sighed and leaned back as Vox’s thumb carefully circled the little bit of downy fur at the base of your ears.

“A bit more coarse than I imagined but still pleasant,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up,” you managed to growl out even as you leaned into his touch more.

“Do you want me to stop?” You said nothing. “That’s what I thought.” You wanted to slap him. “The ears, the tail, the demand for attention, the way power suits you. Oh, how very much like Alastor you are.”

You felt the haze of pleasantness lift from you as Husk looked up at you again and he visibly was taken aback. You snapped around and managed to grasp Vox’s hand before it fell back to the countertop.

“You say that like it’s a compliment.”

“Perhaps in a way it is,” Vox said. “There’s a lot of things to admire about Alastor but the difference between you and him is that he wouldn’t let me fuck him.”

You almost got up and left then and there. You rolled your eyes and dropped his wrist. You went to grab your drink, planning on downing it and walking out, when Vox swapped roles with you.

His hand now wrapped around your gradient wrist. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll leave right now.”

You should have. It should have been so easy to say those two simple words of ‘you’re wrong.’ Instead you found yourself saying, “Your death wish a bit more prominent today.”

“Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic. I know you are. Otherwise there’s no doubt in my mind you would have thrown me through the wall. You can do it.”

You could. He knew that. Two years ago you hadn’t just yelled at Vox. You had grabbed him by his suit lapels and demanded the whereabouts of Alastor. After his initial confusion came some form of both glee and oddly rage. He’d yelled about how he was glad Alastor was gone but he should have been the one to kill him. Even then, even without the souls chained to you or the land to protect, you’d summoned some deep seated power within you and used it to throw him through the walls where he fell out of the building.

He knew you could do it and you did too. You should have. You honestly should have but there were a lot of things you should have done but didn’t. You were in hell for a reason and maybe part of that was your unwillingness to leave something unfinished.

“You haven’t said I’m wrong.”

He glanced down at his hand. His grip was loose. It should have never stopped you and yet it had.

You jerked your hand away and downed your glass. You slammed it on the table and turned your back to him as you began to walk towards the door.

Behind you, you heard Vox’s drink be picked up and then much more softly be put down followed by his footsteps.

Your arm was gripped again but instead of a light ghost of a touch, it was one you recognized. Husk’s paw was around your upper arm.

He took off his hat. It was used to block off the view of his mouth as he leaned close to your ear and whispered, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Husk looked at Vox, almost a glare but not there yet. Then he sighed, “Don’t do something you’re gonna regret just because you know it’ll piss Alastor off.”

“I’m not an idiot, Husk.”

He flipped his hat around and placed it back on his head. He went back to his gambling buddies, grumbling something about a story, bitch breakfast, and Rosie.

Vox shoved you against the wall. You knew you should feel pain in your head and shoulders but this was Hell. You were used to it by now and Vox’s kiss was so much more interesting.

His tongue immediately slipped into your mouth and all you could feel was small electrical shocks. Not painful but buzzing. Almost like kissing pop rocks but with static.

One of his hands was cupping your jaw. The other was at your waist. His bare fingers touching your skin in both places.

Vox was full of new, interesting sensations. From the kiss and now just to his skin texture. You’d never touched him before, just his clothes. His skin was smooth and cold, like glass. However, only his claws had that hardness.

You pulled back. “How do I get this off?” you asked.

One hand was tugging at the collar of his turtleneck. You used the other to push off the black wool jacket he was wearing. Truly a shame to see it go.

He looked so much better in it than his suit or perhaps it was the fact that it was different. Either way, it gave him a 1950s feel even if all the clothes he wore were modern. For a man so insistent on being the future, he did hold onto at least some things from the past.

Vox sighed and moved your hand to the back of his neck where you found zipper. You couldn’t help but smile at the discovery.

“I can’t help but ask, do you need help putting on shirts that aren’t button ups or. . .?” you let your voice trail off teasingly.

“Shut up,” Vox said as he shrugged out of the shirt.

He then immediately placed his hands back on you. Your hair bunched up between his fingers as he drew you in for another kiss.

You felt his chest. Much like his hands, cold and smooth but not hard. You squeezed his shoulders and felt so much tension there. He moaned, fingers twitching.

He hooked his arm under your legs and swooped you up. Your ankles locked behind his back.

He rolled his hips. His hardness pressed against you. It was your turn to moan. You felt heat bubbling up inside you and your tail wiggle in excitement.

Apparently Vox felt it too as he pulled back. He adjusted you in his hold and began walking you to a room (his room you presumed). You were dropped on a bed.

Vox pushed up your dress and pulled on your tail. “Aren’t you just adorable?”

You glared up at him. In retaliation, you decided to pull him down onto the bed and flip your positions.

You leaned in, filling his space with your presence. You hands traveled from his shoulders to his navel and then back upwards. Your fingers lightly brushed against his throat.

“It’d be so easy to choke you,” you said, voice low and barely above a whisper.

“Then do it.”

Your fingers tightened around his neck. The smirk fell off his face and was replaced with a closed eyed, opened mouth expression. The muscles in his throat squirmed beneath your hold. You let up a bit.

Vox now looked up at you, hazy eyed.

You rolled your hips down against him. His breath hitched. His fingers pressed against the skin of your thighs. He pulled you down, held you in place.

His claw hooked your underwear. “Get these off.”

“Let me go.”

Vox did not let you go. Instead he pulled you down against his chest (which was now warmer than it had been mere minutes ago) and kissed you hard. He used this new position to slip your underwear down but as soon as they were off, you broke the kiss.

He looked ready to complain but a pressure on his throat and he was silent. You placed open mouthed kisses on his shoulders, down to his chest. You took a moment to lick his nipples as your undid the button of his pants. His back arch made you file away that information while you continued down his torso.

You slowly began to pull down his pants and underwear.

“For fuck’s sake hurry up,” he growled.

You paused for a moment. Then in two quick moment’s you pulled his clothes off and bit down on his hip. Vox gave a small shout as you licked at the now bleeding spot.

It wasn’t bad. There was barely enough blood to cause any space to start beading up. Though, there were definitely popped blood vessels beneath his skin.

“Ooooh,” Vox chuckled, “you little bitch.”

“No, not a bitch,” you said. “The proper term is doe.”

“I’d say you’re anything but.”

“Oh, really?”

You gave him your best doe eyes as you pressed your face against his hard cock. You hadn’t even truly looked at it but against your face you could tell it’s as long and slender. You mouthed against the base, not looking away from him.

“Oh, fu-uck,” his voice glitched.

You licked up and then deep throated him. You held your position for a moment. Then two. The small, cut off noises were too enjoyable to listen to. The unfiltered groan of frustration when he tried to buck into your mouth only for you to stop him was too entertaining.

You sat up. Your hand wrapped around him and pumped him. A blue tip peaked between your pointer finger and thumb.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him. He wasn’t the thickest or biggest you’ve ever had but he was certainly the longer. You could barely get him in all the way when you felt him bump against your ending. That pressure though, felt so good, so warm, like he was meant to be there.

You lifted yourself up and then down on repeat. With each thrust you let yourself fall with less and less caution. It would hurt if it didn’t feel so pleasurable. This was scratching an itch.

Vox sat up. His hands going to the tassels of your dress. They bunched up in his hands as he pulled the garment off of your body. He threw it across the room.

“You are so fucking—“ he groaned—“You drive me mad, did you know that?“

You didn’t answer because his hands cupped your breasts, so much hotter than they’d previously been. He licked at your neck and sucked on the skin of your shoulders, returning the favor you’d done for him earlier. He rolled your nipple between his fingers. His claws nipped slightly at your skin, providing another pressure that was simply there.

“I’m close. Fuck!” you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building heard him with how loud he was yelling.

A whirlwind sound began in the room as (what you would later realize was) Vox’s fans kicked on. His hands (so hot you felt like you’d burn) squeezed your breasts as he gave a harsh thrust into you. You couldn’t help a noise of slight pain escape you while he groaned, voice and face glitching with pleasure.

You felt him twitch inside you. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you. You rolled your hips against the feeling. He surprised you by rolling back.

He released his hold on you, still lazily thrusting in you. His fingers reappeared against your clit. He rubbed it several times before they started vibrating.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, moaning his name. A lazy but confident smile covered his face.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

You whimpered and nodded.

He tugged on your tail. “Words.”

“Yes, mmm, perfect,” you said, words slurred.

His smile turned into a smirk. “Come for me.”

Now that he’s said it, you didn’t want to but you couldn’t help it. With his dick still in you, moving and spreading his cum causing it to drip out of you, his fingers against your clit vibrating, and now his voice demanding it, you were helpless.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader

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