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awearywritersworld · 7 months

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"took you long enough"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you ask your best friend to meet the guy you've been seeing, things don't go quite as planned. w/c: 3.2k tags/warnings: angst to smut with a fluffy ending. 18+. friends to lovers. jealous gojo. curse words. drinking. gojo shoves ur love interest. he's just kind of an ass to him in general. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: i don't often write smut, but i kinda got carried away.. carpe diem, i say masterlist

gojo is tired of hearing you ramble on about the new guy you've been seeing. he barely even glances at your phone screen when you try to show him a picture you took together.

"you're way out of his league," he states dryly.

"hardly," you scoff. "men don't exactly line up for me like women do for you."

it'd be a lie to claim you didn't have a thing for gojo at one point, but you learned a long time ago that he isn't interested in you that way. it wasn't hard to tell, given his parade of hookups and the occasional two week relationship. you've gotten over it though... for the most part, anyway.

he rolls his eyes. "i assure you that's only because you're shy, princess."

"okay, so you should be rejoicing that your best friend finally landed herself a boyfriend—"

"boyfriend?"

"well.. it's not official yet, but i think he's going to ask me soon!"

your apparent enthusiasm at the prospect leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. of course, it's only because he wants the best for you and this guy certainly isn't it. "you've gone on like two dates."

"'toru, i've been seeing him for almost a month!" when he doesn't respond, you continue speaking. "so... that's why i was sort of hoping you'd come out with us tonight."

he looks at you increduously, "i am not third wheeling."

"you won't be!" you assure. "shoko and kento said they'd come. i just want you to meet him because you're really important to me and i actually think this could go somewhere—"

"alright, alright," he acquiesces, albeit begrudgingly. he's never been able to say no to you.

you squeal with excitement, throwing your arms around his neck in a brief hug. "i can't wait! we're all meeting at seven, i'll text you the address."

after a quick kiss to his cheek, you gather your things, all but running out the door. you weren't going to give him a chance to change his mind.

he stares after you wordlessly, running a hand through his hair while an unfamiliar tightness overcomes his chest.

when gojo enters the bar, he spots you right away despite the sizable crowd. as he makes his way toward your group, he can't help but notice how pretty you look in your little dress. in fact, you'd look absolutely perfect if it weren't for the fact you have another man's arm around your waist.

wait, what?

your laugh rings out across the room and judging by the smirk on shoko's face, he can tell she's said something you find unreasonably funny. once you spot him, your face lights up and you pull away from your almost boyfriend to give gojo a hug, something that brings him a sense of satisfaction.

"hey, sweetheart," he greets loud enough that the other man can hear. "who's this?"

"satoru, this is shinya!" you're beaming at him expectantly, so gojo has no choice but to extend his hand.

"hey, man." shinya shakes it firmly. "it's great to meet you. my girl's told me a lot about you."

gojo's eye twitches and he decides almost immediately that he finds shinya utterly insufferable. his voice is grating and he's too short and didn't you say you prefer guys with lighter hair—

"nice to meet you, too," gojo responds cooly. "i'm always happy to meet one of her friends."

nanami and shoko share a knowing look, more than prepared to break out their hypothetical popcorn. and boy, is this as good an occasion as any.

the strongest sorcerer isn't one to indulge in liquor, but how can he refrain when he has to be in the same room as shinya? each time he touches you, looks in your direction, calls you some sickening pet name— whenever he breathes in your general vicinity, really— gojo brings his drink up to his lips.

everyone else seems to be getting along, but unfortunately, he grows increasingly snarky with each glass he empties.

shinya asks what you'd like when he goes up for another round and it's 'oh, you don't know her favorite drink? well, i guess you're not as close as we are.'

shinya pulls your chair out for you and it's 'wow, you really got yourself a gentleman, princess.'

shinya mentions that he's fairly well versed in martial arts and it's 'really? maybe we should go out back and spar. i think it'd be fun.'

nanami steps in then, not entirely convinced gojo would hesitate before laying him out. "you can put the measuring tape away, idiot."

shinya is being an impressively good sport, but your anxiety has you emptying glasses in a hasty manner, too. you have no idea what's going on with gojo. you understand that he can be abrasive at times and that communication definitely isn't his strong suit, but his behavior is just absurd. you force an awkward laugh at nanami's comment.

"not that i'm not having, um, a great time and all!" you hiccup before continuing. "but i'd really like to dance. c'mon shinya!"

nanami and shoko wind up joining you both, which comes as a surprise. neither of them are exactly the partying type (not that you are either), but you're happy to see them having fun. honestly, you can't remember the last time either of them let loose.

you wonder if they also just wanted to escape gojo's snide remarks. now that they aren't ringing in your ear every other minute, your nerves have certainly calmed down a bit. well, until—

"so you do know that he's totally in love with you, right?"

"who?" you question, looking around as if it'd be obvious.

and it is, just not to you.

shinya chuckles. "gojo."

"what?" you bellow, completely dumfounded. "no way! i mean he's not— and i'm not— we're just friends."

"yeah?" he still sounds amused, nodding in gojo's direction. "is that why he looks like that?"

turning toward your table, even you have to admit he looks completely miserable. unbeknownst to you, he's spent the last half hour sending away every woman that approaches him asking to dance. he just isn't in the mood right now. at least, that's what he tells himself.

"er.. he just doesn't get out that much," you try your best to brush it off.

"whatever you say, baby."

you're relieved he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the idea, even if you find it completely implausible. it's true you spend a lot of time together and that you know one another like the back of your hands, but you'd given up any hope of it being more than friendship a long time ago. you'd moved on.

but if that's the case, why did shinya calling you baby suddenly feel so wrong? you convince yourself it must just be the alcohol.

when the four of you finally stumble back to the table, you realize you've missed last call. though it's probably for the best, as the five of you are certainly in for a nasty hangover the following morning.

it's near closing time, but the crowd has hardly thinned out and the music is still beating loudly in your ears. you're going back to jujutsu tech with your friends rather than home with shinya, so you loudly exchange goodbyes over the music as he gets ready to leave.

"i had a really great time tonight," he tells you. "maybe we could go for dinner tomorrow? there's something i've been wanting to ask you."

"okay!" you agree eagerly, eyes shining. "i'll call you in the morning."

gojo feels his stomach drop, his jaw clenching bitterly. he tries to tell himself to relax because this is what you want, but he just can't seem to get his thoughts straight.

shinya leans down, his lips meeting yours sweetly, and it causes white hot anger to flood gojo's body. it all happens so fast, shinya's ripped away from you with astounding force and he staggers backward. you've been struggling to hear over the noise all night, though you make out each word that follows with striking clarity.

"get the fuck away from her!"

gojo stalks off before anyone has time to process what just happened. he's already half way across the room when you come to your senses.

"'toru!" you call out, taking a step in his direction when he doesn't respond. "satoru!"

you take another step but you're stopped when something pulls you back. you look down to find shinya's hand wrapped around your wrist before your gaze turns up to meet his eye. "look, i really like you, but if you go after him, don't bother calling tomorrow."

the ultimatum is simple, but so is your decision. "i'm sorry."

you run off before he can say anything else, shoving your way through the bar patrons, and follow gojo out the door into the cold air of night.

"satoru!" you shout once more, thankful that his pace is slow enough for you to catch up. he turns to face you when you tug on his sleeve.

you nearly shy away from him, his expression something fierce, but the liquor in your system gives you courage. "what the hell was that? you embarrassed me—"

"i don't fucking care," he spits.

he's never taken such a tone with you, so you throw your hands in the air and exhale impatiently. "what do you mean? you should care! you're my friend, aren't you?"

"that's exactly what i mean. you're supposed to be mine," he growls.

you're not sure how it happens, but the next thing you know, his lips are crashing into yours, your teeth knocking together with the force. his hands paw at your hips, pulling your body against his greedily.

"i can't believe," he mumbles against your lips, "you wasted your time," his hands find your hair, tugging your head back and revealing your neck, "with that fucking loser."

once he's finished speaking, his lips trail across your jaw, landing just below your ear. your eyes flutter open and you're suddenly very aware that you're standing in the middle of a public sidewalk.

"'toru," your voice is breathy, even though you're trying desperately to keep it together. "there are people—"

he pulls away heatedly, his eyes narrowed. "you didn't care when he kissed you in front of everyone."

"yeah, but that was just a peck," you reason, though if he keeps this up, you're worried you might lose your resolve.

"tch, i guess you're right." the familiar sensation of warping through space and time sweeps through your body for a few seconds before your feet meet solid ground again. you don't need to look around to know you're in his bedroom. "we're going to do a lot more than that tonight."

your stomach flips at his words, heat rushing to your core. his lips find your neck once more, leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. "that's what you want right? for me to show you who you belong to?"

you nod weakly, feeling as if you're in a daze.

"ah, ah. use your words, sweetheart."

"yes— ah—" he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone before nipping the delicate skin there. "yes, 'toru."

"then get on the bed," he orders lowly.

and who are you to disobey? you can't honestly say you haven't been dreaming of this for years. his blanket feels cool to the touch, making you realize suddenly how much your skin is already burning with desire.

he kneels beside the bed, wasting no time before pushing up your dress and pulling your legs apart. you see his shoulders fall as he exhales harshly at the sight. his eyes flutter shut when he presses a kiss to your core over the tiny cotton panties you decided to wear.

he's rudely reminded of the possibility that you may have put them on with another man in mind.

"did you let him fuck you?" he interrogates. his eyes don't leave yours as he begins placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh.

"n-no!" it's almost embarrassing how vehemently you deny it, but the man between your legs takes great pleasure in your response.

"mm, knew you were a good girl."

he hooks a finger beneath your panties, pulling them down excruciatingly slow. you buck your hips up once he throws them off to the side.

"feeling eager, princess?" he taunts, his breath fanning across your center.

you nod, your legs shaking with anticipation, before remembering what he said about using your words. "please, 'toru. need you so bad."

he can't possibly deny you, not when you beg for him so sweetly. he presses a soft kiss to your swollen bud before flattening his tongue against it, drawing circles there. he groans when your slickness coat his chin.

you whine when his eyes shift up to meet yours and push yourself against him even further. he chuckles against your skin, but truth be told, he's just as eager as you are. he slips one long finger inside of you, relishing in how easily you take it.

"oh—" you cry out as he adds another finger, his tongue pressing against you just a little harder.

his other hand is gripping your thigh roughly, the flesh spilling between his fingers. one of your arms is supporting your weight, but the other reaches out, your fingers threading through his hair.

you're panting now, tugging on his white locks in pleasure. he moans in response and the way your walls are clenching around him lets him know you're close. "c'mon baby, cum for me."

that's all it takes for you to unravel, his name falling from your lips over and over. he doesn't stop until he's sure you've come down from your high.

"you tasted so perfect," he tells you, unbuckling his pants in a hurry and shoving them down his legs.

his shirt and boxers follow quickly thereafter, so you pull your dress over your head. you can't tear your eyes away from his cock, it's long and thick and pretty.

he pushes you back against the bed and crawls on top of you, but then he just stares down at your face. just as you begin to wonder if something is wrong—

"you're so fucking beautiful. have i ever told you that?"

your mind reels for an answer, but you don't have to worry about it for long, as his lips capture yours. you can taste yourself on his tongue

"tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips as he moves his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

"need you, 'toru. p-please, i need you to fuck me."

he smiles against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside slowly. he leans back to find that your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted in bliss. he's determine to seer the image into his mind forever.

splitting you open is absolute ecstasy, the noises he's making are proof enough of that. "fuck, princess. fuck."

he nearly whimpers when he bottoms out. "god, you feel so perfect. i could stay in this pussy forever."

your legs wrap around his waist once he begins to pump in and out. "never felt so full, 'toru. it feels s'good."

he shudders at your words and laces his fingers with yours, sweat beading on his forehead as he picks up his pace. his head dips down, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck aggressively.

"p-people are gonna see—"

"i want them to," he rumbles. "want everyone to know how good i made this tight little pussy feel."

you can't argue with him, not when this is the best anyone's ever made you feel. his head shifts even lower, his tongue moving along your nipples in a way that has your back arching off the bed.

he uses the opportunity to snake an arm beneath your lower back, holding your body against himself firmly. the new angle has you mewling his name in the most sinful way.

"you're takin' me so well. like you were made for this cock."

your head's lolling to the side as you fall to pieces beneath him and he can feel himself getting close. "look at me when i fuck you, baby."

you do as he asks, his hips stuttering when he sees the tears of pleasure swimming in your eyes. "you're mine, aren't you? tell me you're mine."

your pussy clenches around his cock so tight it's almost painful. "i'm yours, 'toru. all yours."

"fuck, that's my good girl. gonna cum for me again, hm?"

you nod up at him meekly, too far gone for words, but he doesn't seem to mind this time.

"'i'm close too, sweetheart." his fingers reach down to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a throaty moan from you.

you feel your stomach tighten and you're nearly there, but you don't go over the edge until he begs, "can i fill you up? want to so bad."

you can't find the strength to respond, so you hope the way you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his back is answer enough.

your head rolls to the side once more, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning you to face him. "please, baby. wanna see you when i cum—"

he hums your name through a choked moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reaches his own high. he collapses on top of you, laying there for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside you.

no words are shared, both of you trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. the silence gives your mind a chance to wander, which is never a good thing.

you consider the fact that gojo's never kept a girl around for more than a week or two— that this probably meant way more to you than it did to him. you sit up feeling stupid and wrap your arms around your chest.

you look around the room in search of your panties, his cum running down your thighs when you stand up to grab them. it's not until you pull them up your legs that he opens his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, furrowing his eyebrows when you pick up your dress.

"what are you doing?" he asks curiously.

"well, i figured i should go back to my room—"

"what, are you crazy?" he gawks at you. "get your ass back in this bed."

you approach him shyly, your apprehension clear to him. "i mean, you can if you want, but why would you go back to your room?"

"i just didn't know if you... you know.."

"no, i don't know." if you knew him any less, you might think he was intent on torturing you, but it's clear to you that he's genuinely confused.

you sigh. "i just didn't know what this meant for us."

"baby, i didn't think i could make it any more clear." he sits up to grab you by the wrist, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. "i'm all yours, so you're stuck with me." he tries to mask the nervousness in his voice when he asks, "is that okay with you?"

you nod, hiding your face in his neck. "took you long enough."

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sixosix · 6 months

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can i go where you go? | kaedehara kazuha

warnings 2.2k words, lots of kissing… like srsly, pure fluff, kazuha is a cutie, not a slick cutie though, friends to lovers!!

or, three times Kazuha keeps kissing you on ‘accident’.

The first time Kazuha kissed you, it was on Beidou’s ship.

You're only partially awake, your eyelids heavy, and you move with a slow, languid pace as Kazuha escorts you towards The Alcor. The wind hums as it caresses the sails, accompanied by the lively shouts and cheers of the crew on board.

“So early,” you mutter, sighing. “Too early. Sun isn’t even out yet.”

“It will be, soon,” Kazuha says, smiling at you in the same way that he always does. Tender, as comforting as the ocean pooling on your feet as you walk by the shore. “You mentioned you wanted to meet the Captain, didn’t you? Tilt your head a little.” Although he says it, his finger comes to your chin and gently directs your gaze himself.

He’s gesturing to the woman standing at the quarterdeck, her hands resting on her hips and her shoulders remarkably broad. She turns as if hearing Kazuha’s soft voice amidst the boisterous chatter. Your jaw goes slack in awe, excitement washing away the last traces of fatigue tugging your bones as everything you’ve heard about Captain Beidou from Kazuha comes rushing back.

Kazuha steadies you with a hand on the small of your back as your knees falter when climbing the ship.

“Captain Beidou!” You bow deeply, lowering your head to your waist, arms outstretched to offer her the sake and the sakura mochi you made the night before—which cost you sleep, but it is worth more than anything when you get to gift the woman who took care of your best friend when you couldn’t. “Thank you so much for letting me tag along. Please take this.”

Kazuha and Beidou glance at each other in surprise.

Kazuha starts, “You didn’t have—”

“No,” you say, firm. “This is the least I can do. Don’t try, Kazuha.”

Kazuha’s expression eases to a smile. “Alright.”

“I like this one, Kazuha,” Beidou says, ruffling your hair, and leaving stray strands on your head. She grins at you, all wide and wild. “Where’s he been hiding ya, huh, kid?”

“Somewhere in Inazuma.”

She laughs; it sounds like the roaring waves of the ocean. “Thank you. I’ll share it with my crew.” She turns, looking at you over her shoulder. You feel the hair on your arms rise to attention. “Let me know if you need anything, but Kazuha probably will see to it faster than any of us could.”

You’re not exactly sure what she means, though you can pick up on the knowing smirk she throws at your best friend.

“Men, to your posts!” she orders. Kazuha takes it as a cue to take your hand and lead you somewhere far more secluded.

No one’s watching; at least, not to your knowledge. The crew knows well enough they have their own business to attend to, and that no one should be interrupting Kaedehara Kazuha when catching up with his best friend since childhood, you.

Kazuha is a wanderer first and foremost. He does not like to be tied down to one place—he’d itch and wander off if you try to keep him at bay. However, there is one exception; one that has him visiting his homeland whenever he can, even when he is dangerously most sought after. When the wind subsides to a gentle whisper in his ears, the waves are gentle when splashing against the ship, and the crew is fast asleep, Kazuha finds himself stealing glances in the general direction of Inazuma. He knows you’re likely sleeping soundly there, expecting him.

This is what gets him to bring home whatever he may find along the way just to give them to you. If anyone asks, Kazuha would reply with a vague: “For someone special to me, in my land of birth.” Anyone would have guessed that, though, given the assortment of flowers Kazuha never fails to bring home.

You find yourself swaying back and forth along with the ship, your mouth running miles per minute as you talk to him on and on about how you’ve never been to Liyue before and your hands are shaking from excitement—or perhaps nerves, and how is Kazuha looking so calm and why is he smiling at you weirdly?

Kazuha has that fond look in the crinkle of his eyes. “Are you certain you’re not feeling sick? Lightheaded?”

Although the heavy rocking of the ship is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, you only feel the anticipation. Thrill. You’ve seen glimpses of Liyue from the letters Kazuha sends; you’re positive nothing can compare to the real deal, and that is what has you giddy, kicking your legs against the wood.

The early morning air crept beneath your clothes and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shudder; Kazuha leans against you, the warmth of his body relaxing you immediately.

The world falls completely silent as you gaze at him.

“Kazuha,” you breathe out, eyes round with wonder, “thank you for taking me with you.” Kazuha goes still as you brush a stray of hair away from your face a little shyly. “It probably doesn’t mean much because you’re always traveling, and it’s probably such a hassle to be my tour guide, but I’m—mmph.”

The rest of your words are swallowed by Kazuha’s lips, and you, undoubtedly silenced by the press of his soft lips against yours. You have your eyes wide open, frozen as you watch the sunrise from the horizon over Kazuha’s shoulder, casting him an unreal golden glow.

Kazuha quickly pulls back and looks as startled as you feel. The kiss was about half a second, and it took nearly a minute for the both of you to process what had just happened.

He frowns, though it doesn’t feel directed at you. “Sorry,” he says slowly, as though he’s just been brought back up from underwater. “That was—”

“It’s fine,” you blurt, hoping the sunrise would disguise your stunned expression. “The ship—uh, it’s swaying pretty hard. You probably lost balance or something.” However, speaking it aloud sounds wrong. Kazuha just doesn’t lose balance: he’s the most seasoned samurai you’ve met in your life.

Then again, that would leave an empty room of explanation, one of which you’d rather not set foot in.

“Yes.” The sunrise has Kazuha looking a little pink. Or should it be orange? “Allow me to fetch us a bottle of water. You might get seasick.”

“Sure,” you murmur, though it’s lost to the howl of the wind as Kazuha swiftly jumps down, his Vision glowing on his back. The sensation in your stomach doesn’t seem like seasickness.

He doesn’t talk about it, so you don’t bring it up.

The second time happens in public.

The moment you set foot in Liyue Harbor, Kazuha realizes he must reach for your wrist to prevent you from straying and getting lost. You dart from one corner to the next, exploring every stall, even stray dogs and running children.

“Liyue feels so…warm.”

It could be the orange glow of their lights, painting over the region with an unbeatable shade and atmosphere, perfectly replicating what it would be like sitting across a fireplace. Or it could be Kazuha’s hand intertwined with yours.

“Hearing that relieves me,” Kazuha admits, pulling you to the side as two men pushing crates on wheels rush past. “You are often unpredictable in what you like and dislike.”

You laugh, “Were you worried that you overhyped it? You tend to be descriptive with what you write back to me—what was it? The flavorful aroma coming from street vendors, the squeals of youth whistling past, the seagulls, and the waves of the ocean audible even amidst the bustling crowds… I can see it.”

“You remember all of that?” Kazuha looks adorable when bashful.

The sun is already at its highest peak. Sweat has started to form around your hairline; Kazuha had to buy you popsicles, which you got from the Wanmin Restaurant. The popsicle is entirely blue, nearly translucent, and tastes like eating just ice, but it effectively cools you down. Kazuha doesn’t appear bothered by the heat in the slightest, going as far as to insist on carrying all the souvenirs you’ve been purchasing.

He has only one arm full, though. The other is free and linked with yours.

“You didn’t tell me one important thing, though,” you say.

Kazuha blinks once, then furrows his brows. “What is it?” He looks sincerely worried.

“You didn’t tell me you’re famous,” you tease, nudging a red-faced Kazuha with your elbow. “Oh, it’s Kaedehara, you’re back! And here I thought you were like a celebrity in Inazuma. You might just be well-loved everywhere.” Well, who could blame them? You’re no better than the people of Teyvat.

He shakes his head. “Far from it,” he insists, ever the modest guy. “I just happen to be caught up with The Crux.”

“Those ladies seem to disagree. They were trying to impress you, you know.”

Kazuha shifts uncomfortably, his face a funny shade of pink. “I did not pay close enough attention. I apologize.”

A laugh escapes you, in disbelief. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I did not realize you were the jealous type.”

You gawk at his words, spinning around to see that a hint of something smug playing on his lips. “That’s not—You… shut up. I’m not.”

Kazuha opens his mouth to say something stupid to fluster you probably, but you’re quicker. You retrieve a container wrapped in plastic, its surface moist from the steam within. Kazuha falls silent, his watchful gaze fixed on you as you unwrap it, his nose undoubtedly detecting a familiar and enticing aroma.

“This is…” Kazuha picks one stick up and observes it. “Mondstadt Grilled Fish.”

“Yes,” you say, grinning proudly. “One of your favorites. You sent me the recipe last year, remember? Kept practicing it for this moment.”

But Kazuha’s heavy gaze is not on the food, but on you, an unreadable emotion clouding his eyes. The tension disappears when he smiles and takes a bite. You watch him enjoy his food in peace, belatedly deciding to do the same. You know you did good but Kazuha didn’t have to look like he’s in bliss, eyes closed and everything.

“Thank you,” he says. “You keep surprising me. This was meant to be a day for you.”

“You here with me is enough to make all my days,” you say, mouth full of fish grilled to perfection. Embarrassingly enough, there are crumbs that spew out. You take another big bite, crumbs of it sticking to the sides of your mouth.

You must look a little stupid, tucked in some corner of Liyue, standing next to Kazuha and eating grilled fish silently.

Your field of vision is abruptly engulfed by Kazuha's face. You have barely time to react, your body falling still as your attention is swallowed by the red of his eyes, which are focused on your mouth. You feel warmth press against the side of your mouth, your heart leaping to your throat at the sensation.

“Sorry,” he says, not looking at all sorry. “You had crumbs on your face.” Which does not explain why he has to kiss it off, but it was at this moment that you understand. Kazuha doesn’t lose balance and doesn’t do anything by mistake.

The dam crumbles.

The third happens when the night is creeping in on your first day, in some inn you didn’t bother looking at, too caught up in the way Kazuha is grinning at you in his own Kazuha-way: all soft and sweet.

“I can’t… believe—how long?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you. “It wasn’t a grand revelation that happened one night. It just felt as if it was the only explanation.” His eyes flicker to you, keeping your faces close enough to where your noses are touching. He’s waiting for an answer.

“I had a crush on you the moment we met,” you confess, face hot. “And then it never went away, even when you had to leave. Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever.”

Kazuha’s smile tips on something a little more sly. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, then.”

Years and years of longing for Kazuha, rereading each and every one of his letters, and cherishing every second of when he comes to visit—all of it’s more than worth it if it led you here, in a secluded room, sharing hushed whispers with the boy you’ve wanted all your life.

“So… what are we—”

You’re rudely interrupted by Kazuha pecking your lips.

You frown. “Hey, wait, I’m—mmph—trying to—Kazuha!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he tugs you to his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, but he’s leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw, smiling against your skin as you shiver.

“It’s okay,” you whisper in the quiet of the night, in the steady silence occasionally broken by the beating of your hearts. “It was an accident.”

“Mm,” he hums, nodding. “An accident.”

You stare at each other for a pregnant pause.

“This one isn’t, though,” Kazuha says and dives in for a kiss that leaves you breathless, years and years of buried feelings pouring over.

this was supposed to be for kazuha’s bday but i couldn't finish it in time :(!!! belated happy birthday to the greenest flag ever <3

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha fluff #kazuha fluff #genshin fluff

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amhrosina · 10 months

Text

Be My Baby

Summary: Frank takes you on a weekend trip to his cabin after you have a rough week at work. Your first stop? The enormous bathtub with enough room for soooo many activities.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k

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a/n: hello! i'm back! my personal life is still a wreck but i missed writing for frank. this is probably the most self indulgent fic i've ever written lol it is quite literally the most ooey-gooey romantic plot before the softest smut imaginable. what can i say? i'm a hoe for soft frank. enjoy & thank you to the nonnie that requested something similar to this!

warnings: softest smut imaginable, fluff to the max, 'i'm an asshole to everyone except you' trope, a teensy little bit of crybaby reader if you squint, frank would burn the world for reader, reader is sOoOoO in love with frank (who isn't??), they're both a little wrapped up in each other's world and don't give a shit about what's happening outside of them type of vibes, pet names, etc.

From what you had seen, Frank’s cabin was cozy and warm, but since your arrival half an hour ago, you’d only had the luxury of soaking in the tub while Frank took care of unloading the car. He’d insisted on doing it alone, claiming his girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger for anything, and honestly after the week you’d had, you were temporarily glad he was as stubborn as a mule. You were sure that sentiment would fade the next time you were feeling bratty, but for now, you tried your best to relax and forget what an awful week it had been at work.

The heat of the bath water sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine, enticing a low groan from your lips. Sinking further into the water, you realized just how big the tub was. It stretched at least six feet across and was almost deep enough to stand, clearly a custom made feature of the cabin. You supposed Frank probably needs the room, being as large a man as he is. Still, it felt like you were in a luxurious hot tub, rather than a regular bathtub.

“There’s a button to turn on the jets if you want ‘em.”

Frank’s gentle voice carried across the bathroom, startling you from your relaxed state. You hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned, eyeing his powerful figure as he made his way toward you and sat on the edge of the tub. It was easy to get lost in the way he moved, and you tried your best to not stare at the muscles straining against the black longsleeve he was wearing.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out to softly run his knuckles along the curve of your damp cheek. He was always gentle with you, but the desire to take care of you was even more present in his eyes than usual. It really had been a shitty week.

“This place is amazing.” You said in awe, turning your face away to hide your grin. His hand, already knowing what you were trying to do, softly gripped your jaw and turned it back to face him.

“You barely saw the place.” He chuckled.

“Whose fault is that?” You raised an eyebrow at him and sat up, fully exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes briefly flicked down to your nipples, hardening as the cool air touched them, before returning his gaze upwards. “Get in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He nodded and stood, but began walking in the opposite direction of the bath. You furrowed your brow, watching him tug his shirt off and throw it on the counter. When he saw your expression, he grinned.

“Hang on. I brought something for you.”

“What do you mean?” You called after him, but he was already moving again.

He disappeared through the doorway, generating even more confusion, before returning with an assembly of things tucked under his arms. You watched as he worked his way around the room, placing various objects here and there until finally he flicked off the lights and turned to face you again.

The room was now aglow with flickering candle light, coating Frank’s looming figure in a warm haze. He’d gone for mostly unscented, knowing how strong smells could give you headaches, but had left in a few lavender candles because he knew how much it relaxed you. He also managed to sneak an entire bottle of champagne into the car without you noticing, of which he was pouring into two flutes. You blinked back tears as he handed you your glass, unable to express how warm your chest felt at the effort he was putting in to make you feel better.

“Frank.” You murmured, smiling bashfully, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“‘s what you deserve.” He shrugged, stepping out of the rest of his clothes.

He sank into the tub next to you, tugging your body against his in a swift motion. He sat with his back against the edge, allowing you to easily settle your knees on either side of his thighs, facing him in the dim room. You sat just a little taller than him at this angle - chest pressed against his warm skin, arms resting on his broad shoulders - and God, he looked divine. The drive had taken a few hours, just long enough for the stubble to return to his cheeks after this morning’s shave, giving him a rugged look that you thought was just so handsome. You were unable to resist the temptation of running your nails over it in a soft scratch, eliciting a groan from deep in Frank’s chest. The rumble reverberated through your chest as you pressed yourself fully against him, seeking more of his affection. He tugged your head down onto his shoulder and began running his fingers along the base of your neck in a soothing pattern.

“You never answered my question earlier.” He murmured, resting his jaw against your head. “You okay, sweet girl?”

You sighed, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as you mulled over your feelings. You were a sensitive soul to begin with, and your boss had been on edge all morning when he finally snapped at you for something you had no control over, which ultimately had you tearing up for the rest of the day. When you’d walked through the door crying, Frank’s eyes flashed violently between anger at your boss and sympathy for you. The sympathy had won, and now you were in a beautiful cabin in upstate New York, wrapped in his strong arms. Still, you weren’t sure how you were going to deal with your boss’ temper when you returned to work on Monday.

“I don’t know,” you finally replied, shrugging, “Can you ask me again later?”

You felt his cheeks widen into a small grin. He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t think I won’t.” He teased, calling you on your avoidant tendencies before you could even notice them yourself.

“How long have you had this place?” You wondered, nuzzling into his heated skin.

“I bought it a few months after Maria and the kids.” He said softly, almost whispering when he had to relay his wife’s name aloud. “Thought maybe I was done with the city. Change can be good, ya’ know?”

“But you came back.” You lifted your head from his shoulder so you could look him in the eyes.

“But I came back.” He parroted, nodding. “And then I met you.”

“And you stayed.” You finished for him.

“Of course I stayed. Couldn’t leave you behind, sweet girl. ‘ve been sweet on you since the day I met you.”

This was true. From the moment you’d met, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind toward you. You had no idea, of course, that this type of behavior was incredibly far away from Frank Castle’s usual attitude until you’d met Matt Murdock, who was so shocked at Frank’s subdued personality and general softness around you that Frank had to physically close Matt’s gaping jaw for him.

“But you never sold the place?” You questioned.

“I figured we might need somewhere to run away to every once in a while. Are you mad that I didn’t tell you about it before today? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely worried that he might’ve upset you.

“How could I be mad when I’m sitting in this enormous tub, surrounded by candles and champagne, pressed up against the man of my dreams?”

He smiled then, and you could tell it was a genuine smile because of the way his cheeks dimpled at the corner of his laugh lines. It was an award winning smile, you thought. You gently set the empty champagne glasses on the edge of the tub before cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“My Frankie,” you mumbled, running your thumbs across his cheekbones, “What would I do without you?”

You really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but every time you looked at him, you felt yourself being pulled closer and closer to him. His compassion and kindness toward you, even after everything he’d been through, was something you couldn’t avoid leaning into. All your life you’d been taking care of others, and finally, here was someone begging to take care of you.

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay? ’m here to stay.” He mumbled, bringing the pads of your fingertips to his lips for individual, soft kisses. “I love you, and ‘m gonna take care of you forever.”

Tears welled in your eyes as an overwhelming rush of emotion passed over you. In your arms was a man that should’ve been bitter and angry at the world around him. He had earned the right to become spiteful and hardened, and no one could fault him for that. And yet - and yet - in your arms was a man that loved you with his entire being. Who understood you at your core, saw the dark parts of you, and loved those parts even more. Who was soft for no one but you. Who you loved, too.

A tear slid down your cheek as you kissed him, long and slow and sensual because you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He smiled into the kiss, cradling your head with his beautiful, calloused hands. It wasn’t enough. You needed his gentle touch everywhere. Pressing yourself against him, you felt yourself sliding along his achingly hard cock, raising the already warm temperature in the room to searing. Heat pulsed between your legs, begging to be touched.

“My pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before following the curve of your jawline to your neck, “My pretty, sensitive girl.”

The praise made your head swim. You rocked your hips again, sliding along his length until you were hovering directly over him, waiting for the go ahead to sink down. He grunted, pressing open mouthed kisses up your throat before coaxing your hips lower and lower. You gasped when he finally pushed into you, and Frank took the opportunity to lick the inside of your gaping mouth as he did so. You shuttered against him, wanting everything he had to offer and more.

“P-please, Frankie.” You murmured, arching your back as he bucked his hips upwards.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He breathed, wrapping one of his enormous hands around the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him as you rode him. His other arm was wrapped around your torso, tugging your hips forward and back to stimulate your clit against the base of his cock. It was such an erotic way to be held that you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. He leaned his head against your forehead and kissed the tears that made their way down your flushed skin. “Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I l-love you.” You purred, stuttering as he made his way down your body, kissing everywhere he could reach. When he got to your pebbled nipples, you sucked in a sharp breath. He knew exactly how to get you off, and he was staring right at them.

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to each of your nipples, eliciting a pornographic moan from deep in your chest.

He continued to push and pull your hips in a steady rhythm, grinding your clit against his pelvis as you bounced up and down his length. Slowly, in a teasing manner that had a new wave of fresh, needy tears streaming down your cheeks, he leaned forward and circled his tongue around the sensitive nub. You whined with impatience as he pulled away, only to offer the same kitten lick to your other breast. You knew he would take care of you like he always did, but his teasing was making your entire body tremble with anticipation.

“I know, I know,” he cooed, kissing the valley between your breasts, “‘t’s okay, baby. Be patient. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a mewl. You felt the hand Frank had been using to hold your head steady loosen its grip, and suddenly, he was softly wiping the tears away from under your eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re doing so good for me, bunny.” He murmured, and you very nearly came at the pet name he loved to praise you with. “‘m gonna make you feel real good, okay?”

“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “Need you.”

That was all it took for Frank to finally snap. In one swift motion, he wrapped his lips around your breast and began to run his tongue across your sensitive nipple. His hand traveled from cradling your cheek to rubbing small, sloppy circles around your pulsing clit. You keened, overcome with so much pleasure that you felt your entire body trembling against Frank’s.

The bathroom was big enough for your soft moans to echo, and other than the sloshing of the bath water, that was the sound Frank heard as you came apart on top of him. Your head was spinning as the heat in your gut finally found its release, uncoiling in waves of overwhelming pleasure that sent you reeling.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “Just like that, pretty girl. You’re so good for me, baby.”

His fingers hadn’t stopped circling your clit. You were quickly growing overstimulated and conflicted, wanting nothing more than to keep riding him while also needing to get away from his dexterous and sinful fingers. He watched you for a moment, in awe - the way your lips parted every time a moan slipped out of your mouth, the heaving of your chest as your heart rate tried and failed to return to normal, the intense trembling of your limbs every time he circled your clit. He wasn’t worthy. He knew that. He didn’t care. He’d take care of you for as long as you’d let him, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

“F-Frankie,” you stuttered in between heaving breaths, “I can’t- I’m- It’s sensitive.”

“Shh, sh, sh, sh, I know, baby. I know,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone and up your neck, “Can you give me one more, bunny? Be good and give me one more.”

You shuttered against him, resting your forehead against his and breathing out a sultry whine. He continued his onslaught of kisses along your jawline, following the upward curve of your chin until his lips were on yours again. His agile tongue swept into your mouth mid-moan, sending heat into your already molten core.

“Wanna feel you come around me again, baby.” He groaned and tightened his hold around your torso, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing your mouth in his again.

He had brought you to the brink again already. You squeezed around him, earning a rare groan from Frank. The usually stoic and quiet man let out another sinful moan when you arched your back and squeezed again. He was as close as you were to the edge, and God, the tension was palpable.

Finally, in a moment of pure bliss, he nipped at your bottom lip and let out a soft, barely there whimper, which sent you careening off the edge and into oblivion. You could feel yourself clenching around him as you came, but your head had been sent straight to a euphoric haze. Your heart thundered in your chest as Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and held you tight against his chest, coming inside your sensitive, throbbing pussy.

You’d both worked yourselves into a haze, high off each other’s touch. The comedown was gentle and warm - soft caresses of each other’s skin, chaste kisses pressed to collarbones and fingertips, thundering heartbeats slowing in unison. The bath water was surprisingly still warm, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into Frank’s chest with languorous, droopy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, running his fingers up the length of your spine.

You nodded into his chest, sighing. “I’m perfect.”

“‘m glad.” He responded, kissing your forehead lightly. “‘m sorry you had such a rough week.”

“I’m not.” You giggled, glancing around at the luxurious bathtub you were in. “This place is like a dream.”

He held you tighter against him, resting his chin on your head before responding.

“You don’t know the half of it, pretty girl.”

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ma1dita · 2 months

Text

play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real.

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your angelface and his trouble.

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?”

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him.

Idiot.

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!”

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!”

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part.

But that’s kind of the problem.

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke.

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!”

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back.

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound.

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window.

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?”

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side.

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?”

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more?

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling.

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability.

And who would want to love someone so difficult?

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know?

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck.

Fuck.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape.

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other).

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… she has a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on.

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father.

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….”

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent.

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act like an asshole if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…”

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder.

“You think I’m not scared of us either, trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #made by ma1dita ♥︎#🪽#percy series #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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peachesofteal · 1 month

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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

‘C’mon, you never want to go out.”

You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.”

“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely.

“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”

“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook?

“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?”

“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks.

“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.”

You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark.

It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits.

Even the drinks are licentious.

You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony.

Wouldn’t that be a sight.

The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow.

“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand.

“What is it?”

“Probably bourbon.”

“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“

“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight.

Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down.

It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones.

“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles.

There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one.

You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.

And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight.

“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.

“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow.

“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver.

“Like, the mafia?”

“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry.

The 141.

The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know.

You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death.

Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood.

“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool.

“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two.

Which way?

You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard.

Is this the bathroom?

It must be.

The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then-

rips.

You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name.

Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent.

You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke.

There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles.

He has a gun.

“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly.

Obviously, you’re interrupting something.

“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?”

“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically.

“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear.

A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up.

“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back.

“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response.

“We are now.”

#ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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plutoswritingplanet · 8 months

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You Started It pt. 2(Buggy The Clown x F!Reader)

a/n: GMFU, that's all i have to say. this chapter was strongly inspired by the song Shikayat from the movie Gangubai Kathiawadi,

Warnings: General Asshole Behavior from The Man Of The Hour, Hostage Situation, Light Bondage (lmao), Some Good Old Smexual Tension.

Summary: The time for your great performance finally arrives, but the culmination will surprise both you and your captor.

Part 1.

You awake to the sound of music. Drums, trumpets and bells fill your ears, shaking you from some pleasant dream, where you could run free with your brother and his crew. Instead, your forehead aches from the way the bars of your prison dug into it, while you slept. Your legs are sore as well, dangling above the floor, wooden planks leaving marks on your thighs. Your joints crack, as you try to straighten yourself to the best of your capacity, an unpleasant shiver running up your back. Groggily, you wipe left-over tears from your eyes. The music wires itself into your brain, like a bug drilling inside your skull.

Then, someone yells. You know the voice all too well. The music stops immediately, and with a quickened pulse, you hear footsteps approaching the door to the backroom.

He waltzes in, a spring in his step betraying his barely contained excitement. It's been a week since your faithful conversation, and you haven't been moved from your spot above ground. Like a bird in a cage, he has kept you locked, visiting even more often than before. To feed you, give you some water, drink in the sight of you, pester you with questions you had no intention of answering. Truly, your purpose here must've shifted from solely being a Hostage, to providing Entertainment. Just like he's said when you first got here.

"Hostage!" he exclaims, as soon, as the door closes behind him.

"Captain" you answer, voice tired and still traced with the remnants of sleep. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's not bothered by your sarcasm. You're not sure if he even registered it, with his giddy state.

"Today's your big day!" he jumps a few steps in your direction, wobbling on the balls of his feet,

At your confused, if slightly annoyed expression, he raises his hands, and that's when you notice the elephant in the room. A costume, folded neatly in his arms, one, you're without a doubt expected to wear. It's pink, baby pink and frilly to say the least. You can see an ungodly amount of ruffles, and sequins, and small golden bells. It makes your face involuntarily scrunch up. Never in a million years you'd be caught wearing such a pink thing of your own accord. But, as much as you hate the sight before you, the show must go on. You know it, and he most definitely knows so, too.

You flinch, when the Clown throws the costume to the side, lets it collide onto the table, bells ringing loudly. Then, he produces a key from the pocket of his trousers

"Be good, or else" he warns, and you nod, because what else can you do.

The soft click of the lock is like music to your ears, and as soon as the man opens the door, you nearly moan at the feeling of your legs finally being able to stretch. He watches from the side, as you unfurl yourself from the cage, limb by limb. Oh, the feeling of solid ground under your feet is almost too much

"I really cooped you up in there…" he muses to himself, and you contain the venomous look you were about to throw him.

Instead, you opt for stretching out your sore muscles, rising your hands as far above your head as you possibly can, and try to ignore the spark in his eyes, as he watches your shirt ride up your stomach, Finally, he clears his throat, crosses the room to the table and gathers the costume back in his arms

"Don't take long" he winks and points his chin towards the dressing room screen, tucked away against one of the walls.

Grabbing the amassing of fabric from his arms, and trying really hard not to touch him, you retreat to hide behind it. The screen is big enough to cover your body, but your head peeks above, and you shoot a cautious look towards the clown. To his credit, he hasn't moved any closer, rummaging through one of the chests at the end of the room. Your eyes catch a glimpse of something metallic and very sharp, disappearing into the inside pocket of his coat, and your heart jumps to your throat.

Your hands now shaking, you lay out the fabric, trying to get a good look at the costume, before you have to inevitably put it on your body. As you look at the full garb, it doesn't look as intimidating, as before. The ruffles, although pink and obnoxious, are flowing nicely with the entirety of the outfit. It is, however, much more revealing, than you've anticipated, and against your better judgement, you throw a single, judgy look towards the Clown, who immediately catches your eye at the other side of the screen

"Chop-chop, we haven't got all day" he smiles at you, full teeth on display.

Shaking your head, you begin to undress, movements slightly skittish, from the sudden anxiety running up your spine. The outfit slides against your body with ease, the fit being slightly too big on your figure. The expanse of your stomach lays bare, ruffles from the hem of the skimpy top tickling your ribs. Your legs are also, almost completely exposed, the lower half of the costume turning out to be a skirt with rather deep cutouts on the sides. It's a shame you don't have a mirror anywhere nearby, although perhaps it's for the best. You don't know if you could stomach to look at yourself in this ridiculous getup

"Ready, Hostage?" his voice startles you against your will, and after a couple of deep breaths, you step out from behind the screen.

His face remains blank, but his eyes feverishly run all across your body, taking in the image in utter silence. Again, anxiety rises in your gut, this time however, you begin to worry that somehow, this isn't enough. That this isn't the vision he has conjured up in his head, and anything deviating from his vision was sure to anger him beyond belief. You bite your lip in anticipation, as he slowly starts to walk towards you. Then, to your utter confusion, he kneels down just in front of you.

Silence envelops the two of you like a blanket made of tar. It pours into your lungs, making you unable to breathe. His hands are steady, as he reaches out and places them on one of your ankles. Your mismatched shoe slides off your foot under his gentle tug. Then, the other one. Your bare feet hit the floor and that's when you realize, you've begun to shiver

"The audience will love you" he breathes, voice quiet and reserved, almost unrecognizable from his regular, flashy persona.

Then, his hands retract to the inside of his coat. Your breath hitches, as he pulls out a golden cuff adorned with the same, small bells, which are currently attached to the rest of your outfit. Your brows furrow, and another, unexplainable feeling blossoms in your stomach, as you watch him lean down to clasp the cuff around your ankle, the second one following closely behind. His hands linger for a moment, and another surge of trembles runs through you. He's warm, and his fingers are calloused, but somehow, your skin doesn't seem to mind. If anything, you'd risk saying the way he softly slides his digits up your calf is enjoyable. Troubling and confusing, yes, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You sway in your place, as he rises from his knees

"Give me your hands, Hostage" since when has this nickname become so affectionate on his lips, you can't remember.

One part of your brain reasons, that it's a recent development, caused by the time you were forced to spend in his grasp. The other, more treacherous part supplies, that this strange intonation has been there from the very start. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

The tremors running through your hands, as you raise them to present to him, are honestly embarrassing. Your head hangs low, to shield your face from his gaze. It's no use, he can see right through you. The flush in your cheeks, your mouth falling slightly open, the shine in your eyes. He eats it up like a man starved. Reactions, that's what he's after, and with the way you've been acting, you've given him quite the show already.

It's quiet again, safe for the occasional jingle of the bells, as he gently locks two bracelets around your wrists, identical to the ones on your feet. His fingers toy with the golden clasp, brushing against your running pulse. Tension builds in your stomach, as his eyes finally look up to yours. You would've believed you were solitary in your confusing feelings, if his breath didn't come out in quick gasps through his painted lips. Lips, which in this quiet moment seem much too appetizing than they had any right to be.

"You look perfect" his breath brushes against your face, "There's just one little thing, that's missing, Hostage."

Your brows scrunch together, as you watch him reach into his pocket yet again. A beautiful silken scarf slides between his palms. It's pink as well, adorned with constellations stitched in with a shiny thread. Your confusion deepens, when he grabs your hand and turns your wrist up. Then, your heart drops.

Between the rows of small bells, you can see a golden loop attached to the cuff, identical looking back at you from your other wrist. You try to voice your protest, try to wring out your hand, but his grip on you tightens, and he tuts quietly under his breath.

"Can't have you flying away now, can I?" he weaves the scarf between the loops, and ties your hands together, leaving the fabric to drape in between

"How the hell do you expect me to perform with my hands tied?" your voice comes out much weaker than you've anticipated, betraying your growing fear.

To that, he looks up with a grin, yet his eyes remain cold, causing your whole body to shiver.

"You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

His finger detaches again, flying towards your nose and pushing it hard enough to make your entire face scrunch up. Then, he grabs a handful of the fabric, tugs on it to check the binds, and starts walking towards the door, not sparing you as much as a glance. And you follow, obediently, trying to make his head explode with your brain.

It's your fault, really, the feeling of disappointment and anger swirling around in your head. All this sudden quiet intimacy has clouded your judgement, and you've forgotten who you're truly dealing with. Oh, how you wish you could do anything to hurt him. How you wish, your brother would rescue you already, free you from this prison, not only physically, but mentally as well, so you won't have to think about this stupid, homicidal clown ever again.

If he senses you fuming behind him, he doesn't comment. And why would he? You're still following him, as he drags you through the stage, right to the middle of your future dance floor.

Your eyes dart around the place, trying to find anything, anyone, who could help you escape this predicament. To your surprise, and later, horror, the Circus is completely empty. Not a soul shares your fate. Not the public, not his Freaks, not even the Announcer. The silence makes goosebumps erupt all across your flesh, and words get stuck in your throat, as Buggy turns to face you with an unsettling grin plastered across his lips.

"I thought a private performance would be much more appropriate for you, my Hostage" his smile widens at your expression.

You want to scream at him, punch him in his stupid face, but all you can manage is glare daggers at his stupid face. Suddenly, the lights flicker on, startling you, as beams of light flow around you, only to fall right on the two of you. Buggy grabs your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms. His enthusiasm would be contagious, if you weren't scared shitless by this entire situation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a one-of-a-kind performance" he whispers inches from your face, "My dearest Hostage will dance for her life… and for your entertainment."

He lets go of you, forcefully showing you away, and you take a step back to stabilize yourself. The lights focus solely on you, and in the brightness surrounding you, you realize, you can't see anything besides the middle of the dance floor. Cackling like a madman, the Clown steps back, his hands clasped in front of his chest. You almost call out for him, as he slides into the shadows, but any sound dies on your tongue.

You're alone, again. Your breath quickens, as your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. This is not at all how you've envisioned this performance to go. Well, above all things, you didn't expect it would happen at all. Your brother should have freed you by now, and while you had your utmost faith in him, you couldn't shake the feeling of deeply seated worry. Which is why, you had to endure this torture. So you can see your brother again, when he finally comes for you. With a determined expression, you nod your head at the darkness and raise your hands, getting into, what you hope would look, like a dancing stance.

He holds you in anticipation for a moment longer, as any great showman should. And then, music floods the stadium. Bells and violins, distorted slightly by what you assume is an old gramophone. You recognize the song, thankfully, your face falling slightly, as you remember the meaning. A love song, of course, about hatred and affection. Bitter-sweet. Your limbs feel heavy and awkward, but you start to move nonetheless.

He wants a private show? You'll give him one, he won't forget.

The rhythm picks up and so do the movements of your hips. Bells jingle all around you, as you slide from one place to another, clouds of dust flying around your feet. The scarf turns out to be a major distraction, as you're unused to being bound. It takes you a while to get the hang of it, but once you do, you make the fabric dance with you, flowing around your body with satisfying grace. The song becomes even faster, and you twist and turn, ruffles jumping, as you run, accompanied by the bells. Your feet start to hurt from the roughness of the floor, but you ignore it completely.

The song drops before the second verse, and you follow the rhythm to the floor. Using all the acrobatics you've picked up through the years, you begin to writhe in the sand, adding a clap and a stomp, bells jingling to the music. That's when you finally see him, crouched down right in front you, watching your dance with a tilt to his head and something terrifying swirling behind his eyes. It makes you falter in your choreography, makes your guts twist with a feeling too close to arousal.

Then, a glint of something silver catches your eye. It swishes through the air, and plants itself right between your legs. A knife. Sharp and polished to perfection, it embeds itself into the wooden floor, splinters flying from the impact. The scream you let out would make a Banshee cringe, as you push yourself as far as you can from the weapon

"Now, now" Buggy calls out across from you, his silhouette barely visible in the darkness" The show must go on, Hostage."

He sounds terrifying, like some demon from your darkest dreams. But the music still plays, and you'll be damned, if this is what takes you down. So, you wipe your forehead with the silk scarf, contort your body and stand up, straight as a chord. Now, it's no longer a simple performance. Your blood boils inside you, fear giving space to anger and, strangely, some sort of misplaced ambition. You want to impress him, you want to make him frustrated, angry. Dust flows around you, as you resume your dance, movements much more confident, violent even.

He stalks you from the shadows, producing another knife from his pocket. It shines, when he lets it fly in your direction, but you don't even flinch, when it swishes right by your ear. Then another, grazes your torso, as you bend backwards. This one nicks you right below your ribs. You can feel blood running down the length of your stomach. No matter. Your eyes still follow him, and he steps closer to the light. Another knife, inches from your left foot. And closer he stalks. You can see the tips of his shoes enter the spotlight.

That's all it takes for you to make a decision. You won't play this torturous game any longer, and as the music nears its climax, you close the remaining distance between the two of you, hands flying to the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly.

You're panting, so is he, as you stare at each other, all innocence gone from your respective expressions. Fury, oh, fury, you're not sure if you want to kill him, or kiss him, and as he produces one last knife from his pocket, the sentiment seems to be mutual

"You started it" a growl frees itself from the depths of your chest, and under your tight grip on his shirt, he shudders violently.

There's heat pooling into those blue eyes irises of his, enveloping you completely in the moment. But then, his eyes follow your scowl down to your lips, and you realize, you've never tasted face paint. What an interesting experience it would be.

This moment of tension is broken almost immediately, as clouds of smoke fill the tent, seemingly out of nowhere. Suddenly, something yanks you backwards by your arm, something puts a knife in your hand and something yells for you to run. So you do, you turn from the Clown, his figure drowned in smoke, and you run as fast as you can, without looking back. He screams some words you're too scared to decipher, his voice breaking. A disembodied hand flies in your direction, but you dodge it expertly. One more tug from the hand gripping your arm, and you fall through a thick curtain.

The sun outside the Circus tent blinds you, nearly making you lose your footing, but a pair of strong arms hold you in place, and a familiar head of ginger hair turns around to face you

"Come on, the ship is not far" Nami yells, and you can't contain the smile blossoming on your lips.

The Hostage, freed at last… Or so she hopes

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #one piece x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #buggy the clown #my writing #besties idk how to do a taglist soooo

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tddyhyck · 11 months

Text

ice cream thief [ l.dh ]

pairing ⇢ perv roommate!hyuck x afab!reader (mentioned other nct members + karina)

word count ⇢ 12.8k

synopsis ⇢ someone has been eating haechan's favorite ice cream so he decides to put a hidden camera in the kitchen and living room thinking it's a shared space it shouldn't invade anyone's privacy... right?

warnings ⇢ 18+, dubcon, invasion of privacy, filming with and without consent, voyeurism (hyuck is a peeping tom), exhibitionism, panty stealing, toys, multiple orgasms, nipple play (m & f receiving) , cum eating, oral (f receiving), switch but mainly sub!hyuck, reader has a bdsm relationship with johnny, yuta, and jaehyun, switch but mainly dom!reader, handcuffs, unprotected sex, cream pie, hyuck is a little bi icon, lots of masturbation (m & f), excessive talk of legend of zelda (SORRY), anal (not super detailed), use of good boy & pervert, slapping, overstimulation, mentioned (bdsm, bondage, whips, rope/shibari, threesomes, mxm, scissoring, spit roasting, getting high, double penetration, marking) pls let me know if i missed anything

playlist ⇢ creep_radiohead / obsession_sky ferreira / nothings going to hurt you baby_cigarettes after sex / wet nightmare_bibi / i wanna be your slave_måneskin / use me_bill withers / sweet_cigarettes after sex / guys my age_hey violet / sexy silk_cumkitten / pussy is god_king princess

a/n ⇢ i'm trying to get better at making the reader as general as possible please let me know any ways i can improve!

masterlist

“no one is stealing your goddamn ice cream,” you groan, rolling your eyes. you’re currently having a “house meeting” in the kitchen, more like you and your roommates get yelled at by your other roommate haechan for 30 minutes. you’re sitting at the end of the island beside jaemin and karina who is leaning next to the wall while haechan stands across from the counter in front of the fridge waving an empty box around.

“well, where the fuck are my double vanilla yogurt bars going?” he says waving the box around for dramatics.

“who the fuck wants double vanilla ass yogurt ice cream bars,” jaemin argues.

“literally we have chocolate, strawberry,” jaemin gags, “even cones, why would we want double vanilla,” karina quips while you roll your eyes.

“because it’s the best ice cream in the world,” he groans, running his hands through his hair.

“yeah maybe to old white dudes,” karina says, making you and jaemin giggle.

“listen i get it, no one wants to fess up. you’re embarrassed, feeling guilty even,” you scoff at his dramatics. “but just tell me between friends, i will forgive you if you buy me a new box.” no one says anything, just stares across the counter at haechan. “god i hate all of you. i swear i’m moving out.”

“finally, let me know if you need help packing,” you smile as he storms off middle finger raised in your direction.

“so which one of you ate the ice cream?” karina whispers, you and jaemin shake your heads hearing haechan's door slam.

“swear i didn't, i would probably have the strawberry before double vanilla,” he grimaces.

“same, i would just go without, who wants double vanilla anyways? i bet he just doesn’t remember eating them.” you laugh.

haechan sat in his room sulking and determined to figure out who was eating his precious ice cream. this wasn’t the first time it happened and it had only gotten worse. he pondered which one of his housemates would eat his ice cream.

karina was in her green juice phase and probably wasn’t eating ice cream but if she was she would want the "healthiest" option which were the double vanilla yogurt bars. she couldn’t be marked off the list.

jaemin would definitely eat the double vanilla bars. especially when he would just open the freezer and grab anything that didn’t have a strawberry pink label. haechan grumbled to himself pulling his fingers through his hair.

and you, you would totally eat his ice cream just to spite him. you would probably throw away an uneaten bar just to annoy him, give them out to delivery men, or offer them to your annoying friends.

he furiously typed into his search bar. “how to stop roommates from stealing food.”

he scrolls reading over the bulleted list.

write your name on everything

that wouldn’t work, jaemin would just read it and ignore it.

hide the food in an unlikely place

where can he hide ice cream unless he got a mini freezer and that just seemed like too much work.

douse the food in hot sauce, chili powder, etc.

wouldn’t that just ruin the food for him?

install cameras to present evidence of the theft

bingo

haechan had plenty of access to cameras, the tech, and the knowledge to install nanny cams. his it major finally came to his aid during his time of woe.

he made a plan, go to the tech lab and talk to kun about security cameras. he can play it off that it’s for a friend, his mom, or maybe his roommates wanted to feel safer. then he could install them on thursday morning when everyone was in class. then he would wait for someone to eat his ice cream and catch them in the act. foolproof right?

“so wait, why do you need cameras again?” kun asked, rummaging through a box of wires.

“it’s for a friend they asked me since they knew i was majoring in it,” haechan says nonchalantly, pushing his hands in his pockets.

“oh cool, you said home security right?” haechan nodded, moving to the side after kun got up with various wires in his hands. he followed kun to another part of the tech lab.

“just don’t set them up in locker rooms. some dude did that a few years ago and i helped him pick them out. god, i felt sick after.”

“god no, just home security, said he has some weird roommates or something,” haechan shook his head. watching over kun’s shoulder as he scrolled through some tech website.

“okay, i would go with one of these if it’s just basic home security. they have an app for easy access and pretty good quality cameras,” kun says, clicking on one of the images before scrolling through. haechan nodded, eyes dancing over the webpage.

“sounds good to me, can you order them?” kun nodded, adding the items to the cart.

“does he need any wifi extenders?” haechan shook his head looking over the total price. still cheaper than a mini freezer. “i’ll let you know when they come in.”

“thanks, dude, i’ll venmo you,” haechan says walking away.

“do you need help setting them up?”

“nope.”

the cameras came in faster than haechan even expected, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to restock his ice cream bars to set up the trap. he waited for the perfect time when everyone was out of the apartment in class, studying, or doing whatever haechan didn’t care enough to ask.

he took to unboxing the set of five cameras, one for the kitchen right above the fridge, one diagonal from the fridge to get the full angle of the theft, one in the living room facing the couch and the hall, and one for a wide angle of the living room. he had one to spare so he decided to put it in the corner of his room to see if anyone was snooping around.

it took him about an hour to set up the two in the kitchen, fiddling back and forth on his phone and with the cameras to perfect the angle. walking back and forth to make sure the entire walk from the hall would be caught and no denying could happen.

one camera was hidden between some old cereal boxes he and jaemin had used for a project that they never threw away. the other was between the bread maker karina had stopped using two weeks after getting it and was just collecting dust and the protein powder.

it took him about an hour more for the two in the living room, making sure the camera was facing the couch fully because that would definitely be where the culprit would enjoy the sweet treat.

the camera was tilted slightly to hide nicely on the corner of the dvd shelf. the other was squeezed snuggly between some half-dead plants on the window sill, viewing the full kitchen, part of the dining table, living room, and the hall.

haechan was lucky his room was on one side of the house and his three roommates were down the opposite hall. so it was unlikely one of them would come down his hall unless it was for a shower or to piss.

he finally fiddled with the one in his room more for fun but he thought of the possibilities of “accidentally” filming while fucking some hot chick he brought home or even the occasional big bulky dude he would find on some field or court who wanted to experiment when he needed to get fucked.

he didn’t want to be a creep and it wouldn’t be like he’d share the footage if it happened but it would be a nice bonus. getting to relive a good fucking on some shitty camera like a perv.

he wouldn’t openly admit to being a pervert, but he was. he often got off on being watched and watching other people, that’s why he liked going to the gym, not for the workout or health benefits, but the view of some hot girl sweating while doing squats or the best part seeing hot guys in the locker rooms and if he was lucky getting to shower beside them peaking at their cocks hanging heavily between their legs next to him.

he loved the thrill of jerking off in the corner of the showers waiting for some muscled beefcake to come in and embarrass him before cursing and manhandling him. his fantasies never quite came true but that didn’t stop him from releasing onto the tile below him while he tweaked his nipples and the water hit his chest.

haechan often found himself in these “compromising” positions. like the time he hid in the closet of some frat dude's room while he watched his friends, jeno and jaemin, fuck some sorority girl.

he didn’t mean to get high and roam the house ending up in some closet, but what was he gonna do when they came in and spit-roasted her right through the slits in the door. so he shut up as best he could and jerked off while peaking out. he hated to admit being jealous of his friends and the girl but he couldn’t help it.

he also didn’t mean to listen in when his housemates brought someone around and didn’t realize he was there. he would stand in the hall watching jaemin fuck some cheerleader until she was brainless or karina bringing over some girl to “study” but he watched them scissor for like 20 minutes and they never noticed. you however never brought anyone home at least that he knew of.

he’d heard stories from his friends about how you were apparently into being dominated by older men, but haechan didn’t fully believe it. at least not the stories his older friends johnny, yuta, and jaehyun would tell of you. how you liked to be whipped and cuffed to the bed while johnny edged you, or how yuta would tie intricate ropes around you bending you into pretzel-like positions before making you cry, and jaehyun boasted about making you cum some insane amount until you passed out on his cock. you were too annoying and mean to be submissive, and far too uptight to be into adventurous casual sex.

the stories did get him off though just like viewing his other roommates in secret, the thought of his little prude roommate being into nasty sex had gotten him hard. after hearing all about it he excused himself to the bathroom and came in his fist embarrassingly fast.

it didn't take long to start getting notifications of motion most of the time being someone arriving home or leaving. he gets strangely excited at the prospect of catching someone at the fridge but every time it has been for something lame like eggs or soda. he had started to worry about the house eating habits when everyone was only eating eggs, popcorn, and frozen food.

by the third day he’s grown accustomed to the notifications on his phone of detected movement. it's not as exciting when it’s the fifth time of the day and he knows it will probably just be jaemin making toast. but he opens it quickly waiting for the app to load.

before he sees you sitting on the couch, knees to your chest twirling something in your mouth. he grins convinced he had caught the ice cream thief. he started his car ready to rush home and catch you in the act, that is until you pull it out of your mouth. squinting bringing his phone closer to make sure it is his ice cream his eyes widen when he realizes it’s not his ice cream but a dildo of some sort.

you wouldn't, there's no way you would in the living room. his mouth hung open watching you bring the toy back to your lips. he was surprised by the camera quality when he could see your spit dribbling down the toy and collecting at the corners of your mouth.

he should have closed his phone and put it on silent never to be thought of again, but he can’t look away, he knows it’s wrong but he can’t stop staring.

he gaped when you opened your knees and moved one hand between your legs flipping your skirt up revealing some light blue panties. he’s sure he’s seen them in your hamper or when you accidentally left them in the wash that one time. he watched as your hand slithered between your legs pressing against your heat, squinting in surprise seeing a dark spot growing under your hand.

his eyes were scanning quickly trying to take in the entire scene watching you with one hand over your panties and the other swirling what he assumed to be silicone between your lips. he can’t believe you of all people would be getting off in the living room knowing any of your roommates could walk in. little miss goody two shoes had a thing for exhibitionism he smirked.

you moved the toy from your lips, a line of spit still connected until the toy slid over your panties. he gasped when you moved your other hand from between your legs to pull your shirt up tits falling out.

he had seen you naked a few times completely accidentally of course, not that he didn’t keep the image in his head permanently. one time when he walked into the bathroom while you were changing before turning around swiftly and attempting to avert his eyes while you cursed him out. it was your fault for not locking the door.

or when johnny’s frat had a pool party and your swimsuit came untied during a game of chicken. nipples hard and perked from the cool water and right in front of his face. he recalls the embarrassment that flooded your face when you realized before your hands covered up quickly. he had jerked off later to the thought of fucking your tits.

he remembers how he couldn’t get your cute nipples off his brain for like a week after. it pissed him off how you walked around the house braless, nipples pointed right in his face. you were also the bane of his existence you were so annoying and difficult, but so fucking hot but you pissed him off with your bratty attitude.

but he loved the way you scolded him and grabbed and pulled his hair when he went too far, or when you yelled at him and called him names with an angry tone in your voice and pout on your lips all because he had spoiled the new season of stranger things.

he shook his head before pressing his palm to his face and moving his glasses to rub his eyes. he should turn it off. there's no going back if he keeps watching, but he just couldn’t look away. he had to make a decision and he did, taping the full-screen icon in the corner, turning off his car, and sitting back to watch.

he wished it was his hand pinching your nipples, making you sigh and bite your lip. he was too busy staring at them to notice you press a button on your toy before pressing it to your clit and grinding against it. his eyes trailed down when he noticed the movement. he felt his mouth water when the darkness grew in your panties.

you had to stop yourself from letting the feeling take over, wanting to be filled up before you came. you pulled your toy away and moved your hand from your nipples to pull your panties to the side. you could feel how sticky and wet you were. you wished it was someone else between your legs a warm body fucking you open.

haechan’s mouth fell open with your pussy on display. he watched your hole flutter just begging to be filled up. he could feel his cock pressing against his jeans as you slid the toy between your folds leaning your head back against the couch. it was smaller than him from what he could tell. why was he even comparing his dick to his least favorite roommate's dildo?

his mind was just playing horny tricks on him while you were using one hand to pull your panties aside and the other to slip your blue toy into your cunt. haechan watched your mouth open and eyes close. somewhere in the back of his perverted mind, he wished the camera had sound.

he watched in delight when he saw your toes curling against the cushions and your hand speeding up between your thighs. you took it so well spreading your legs wider and mouth hanging open. he knew you sounded good and he could practically hear you whining. he jumped when your eyes met his through the screen he could swear you could see him watching.

he needed to shut his phone off and throw it out his car window but he also wanted you to know he was watching like a nasty peeping tom. he kept watching the way your eyes glazed over, your hips rutting up to meet your flicking wrist.

he didn’t realize but he had started grinding against his hand pressed between his legs. he felt so fucking pathetic in the library parking lot unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out. and anyone walking by could see his windows weren’t nicely tinted but cheaply tinted and that just made it more exhilarating.

he continued staring at his phone jerking his terribly hard cock in his fist whining wantonly in the quiet car. he tried to match his fist with yours, bringing his hand to the tip when you pulled out before pressing back into your cunt and he would fuck up into his own fist. he felt his forehead growing sweaty and he watched you slide deeper into the couch, knees bending harshly and pressing into your chest.

you looked so desperate thrusting your hips up and your brow furrowed concentrating on your incoming orgasm. haechan was wondering if you were close because god he already was briefly removing his hand to spit in his palm and coat his aching cock.

he looked up for a second sensing movement to his right, watching some group of guys walk by his car not noticing the movement right under their noses. it only made him harder if that was possible reaching down grabbing his balls squeezing tightly making him hold his breath.

his eyes focused back on you but you were slowing down and he was hoping you weren’t stopping. were you into edging like johnny had told him? he watched intently massaging his balls breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth waiting for your next move.

you pulled the toy out of your cunt and he whined when a wet glob of slick dripped out not to mention the wetness coating the toy that you were bringing back to your lips. he brought his hand back to grip his dick, holding the base and pressing it down between his legs before letting it slap up against his stomach with a hiss, while you cleaned off your toy.

he watched you stand up and slip your panties off your legs, what he wouldn’t do to steal those and shove them down his throat? maybe he could sneak them from your dirty laundry.

you turned around bending over the back of the couch making him whine, a perfect view of your ass bent at the best angle, cunt still glistening below your tight asshole. his glasses were slipping down his nose from sweat but he didn’t care especially when you brought your toy to rub over your pussy. smearing your slick over your holes making a wet sticky mess that he would die to clean up.

he’d started thrusting into his fist again trying to be patient and slow like you were. bringing the toy to press against your rim while your head turned hoping to catch a glimpse of your taut hole being teased. he watched you push the limit seeing the way your toes curled when you tried pushing in dry, your cunt clenching at the pressure above.

you whimpered but he wouldn’t know that just watched the way you bit your lip before bringing the toy to your cunt and pressing in fully arching your back when you had buried it fully between your legs. he stared at the way your thighs flexed and met the base of your toy as it filled you up.

he could even see drool starting to fall from your open mouth. he wanted to hold back and wait to cum but you just looked so delicious he couldn’t help his hand speeding up. his whines raised in pitch as he pumped his girth it definitely was not as good as your pussy probably felt.

his own pleasure was distracting him, making his eyes close and he had to practically pry them open to watch you again. he didn’t know how close you were, only you did.

if he had noticed the way your head fell forward on the cushions and legs tried to squeeze together and wrist flicking lazier. he would have known but he didn’t. he didn’t see it coming when you came with a silent cry, legs tightening, ass shivering. he didn’t realize until you were cumming. hadn’t heard you whimper “i’m gonna cum.” into your palm.

he came with you completely accidentally, pulling his hand away too late, cum already spurting out before he could stop it, hips twitching along with his dick. he whimpered bringing his hand back to milk his cock, thick cum leaking onto his sweatshirt sleeve, and steering wheel. an embarrassing amount pooled on his stomach as his breathing evened out.

bringing his attention back to his phone he watched you pull the toy from your cunt another thick gush of slick dripped down hitting the couch below you. he hoped you didn’t do the considerate thing and clean it up but he knew you would.

you laid the toy beside you bringing your fingers between your legs and toes curling when you made contact with your swollen cunt. his mouth watered when you dipped your fingers in to collect the juices and lifted it to your mouth to suck them clean.

once you both had caught your breath he dug around in his glove box for napkins swiping at the drying cum on his sweatshirt and steering wheel. you were cleaning up your own mess and he left his phone open catching a glimpse of your wobbly legs when you got up.

eventually he closed his phone, guilt taking over him, he just watched his roommate get off. it definitely wasn’t the first time or the last so the feeling drifted away quickly. the idea of installing a camera in your room even crossed his sick and twisted mind but he knew that was too far.

he was tucking his softening length into his pants when a banging at his window startled him looking up to see shotaro and yangyang banging on the glass. he clutched his chest after swiftly zipping his jeans before unlocking the doors and they got in.

“what are you doing bombarding me during my meditation?”

“you said you were leaving like 30 minutes ago, the fuck are you still doing here?” yangyang questioned from the back seat.

“didn’t you have some meeting or something?” shotaro questioned with a smile.

“shit,” he did have a meeting at the caf about a group project that he was now almost 20 minutes late for.

“did you get distracted or something your car smells like you fucked?” yangyang said laughing as he leaned forward between the two front seats.

“and if i did you’d be jealous so i can’t talk about it.”

despite having watched you cum in the living room via camera nothing about your dynamic changed. that was something haechan was good at distancing his peeping adventures and the people he actually peeped on. he didn’t find it awkward to be around them later even after seeing their most intimate moments. he did steal a pair of your dirty panties though but you didn’t seem to notice yet, at least that he was aware.

and just as expected he did watch you again not even a week later a notification lighting up his phone hoping again to find the ice cream culprit but to see you swinging your legs open bringing some type of purple wand vibrator between your legs in the most erotic way. head dropping back as you upped the vibrations, stomach tensing when you pulled the toy away, hips canting up to chase the feeling.

he snuck off to the bathroom of his job and came while he set his phone up on the sink and watched himself in the mirror.

it seemed to be almost like clockwork. you waited until you were sure everyone was out and you’d slip into the living room spreading out with some toy or your fingers and going to town. and like clockwork, haechan would open his phone as if on cue to see you putting on a show for him and he’d grip his cock and jerk off. able to cum when he started recognizing when you were close.

he did save all the videos using them later in his room late at night humping his pillow, or early in the morning in the shower even getting bold enough to leave his door open hoping you would hear his whimpers and come stare at him while he came to his stockpile of footage.

he had even started carrying his ipad around with him so he could watch both cameras he had set up in the living room. using the larger screen to view the camera on the dvd shelf directly in front of where you would usually sit and his phone for the wide angle in case you decided to change positions.

he looked like some crazy hacker sneaking off to the back seat of his car setting up his devices. somewhere along the lines he bought another flesh light to keep in his car. he may or may not have searched for a pocket pussy that resembled yours at least from what he could tell.

he would try to mimic the positions you were in, leaning back when you would ride a toy, fantasizing about you riding him, or rising to his knees leaning over to hump into the sticky silicone hole when you would bend over the couch.

he sadly still hadn’t caught his ice cream thief even though the ice cream was still being eaten by someone he just either didn’t see the notification or they were way too quick with their hands.

he’d also visited kun again. this time asking about the sound for the cameras. giving some story about his friends’ roommates talking shit about them and wanted to know what about.

he felt like a kid on christmas when thee mics came in, installing them quickly and testing their quality. hoping to all the gods, that he knew wouldn’t let him into heaven at this point, that you would be desperate and needing to get off that very day so he could verify the sound quality. he wrote it off as trying to figure out if he could hear a wrapper when someone was at the fridge, not that he wanted to hear your whining and moaning.

and by some stroke of luck you did get desperate and by a double stroke of luck you had plans that night. plans that included two large cocks filling you up so you needed to prep of course and haechan didn’t even know the show that was accidentally in store for him.

he watched on, intently as you slowly with slick fingers dipped past your tight rim. he gawked at the way you whimpered when you curled your fingers inside of you. his airpods weren’t enough somehow and he hurriedly dug through his bag for his noise canceling headphones.

when they connected he swore he could cum from the surround sound of your cries. he paid extra attention to each movement the way your voice changed or cracked when you added a finger. scissoring inside of your opening your warm walls, what he wouldn’t give to be inside of them himself.

“just a little more,” you slurred before pressing a third finger inside of you, back arching into the fullness. you were talking yourself through it whimpering and moaning, biting your lip in concentration.

he was starting to regret not exiting the library and at least hiding in a bathroom stall, now he was stuck in the back corner of the british history section on the third floor with a hard on and live porn on his phone.

but he didn’t stop or even make a move, continuing to watch you stretch yourself the audio proving to be the best investment since the cameras. each little sigh was picked up on the mic he had cleverly placed next to the couch.

it was getting hard both literally and figuratively to not whip out his cock and jerk off behind some dusty textbooks. so he pressed his hand against his crotch hissing at the contact and grinding slightly into his palm.

he tilted his head back against the wall, eyes widening and bringing his phone closer when you started pulling your fingers from your hole. your empty rim clenched, almost begging to be filled again.

“fuck,” you choked, reaching around beside you to grip your large plug pushing yourself up to grab your lube. haechan watched curiously seeing you squeeze a large amount onto the glass toy.

you wondered if the boys you were going to see would call you pretty when they bent you over and saw the pretty flower pressed into your hole stretching you out. you shivered in anticipation, fingers moving to grip the base bringing it to your rim and sinking it slowly inside. you tried to go slow but the bulb felt so good stretching you out so you thrust backwards groaning at the stretch.

haechan can hear you loud and clear and it’s going straight to his cock before he realizes he’s rutting his hips rubbing himself against his hand. watching desperately as you fuck yourself with the pretty plug.

he had gotten used to your toy collection finding you far more experimental than he ever imagined, from dildos to vibrators and wands and now plugs. he wondered what all you had in your little treasure chest hidden in your room somewhere. he began to believe all the stories he had heard considering you surprised him each time he caught you.

his brows tilt up in confusion when you slow your movements letting the plug settle between your cheeks. you're breathing slowly resting your head on the arm of the couch before you get up, grabbing the lube and going down the hall. he waits for a few seconds then a minute before you return to clean up the spot you occupied before.

you weren’t stopping right? you hadn’t even cum you always came at least once. he recalled the time you had continued holding a vibrator to your clit until you were shaking and crying unsure of how many times you had actually released but the slick puddle glistening underneath you told him enough.

he waits patiently watching his phone but you don’t reappear and his cock is hard and needy, twitching in his pants. he groans head hitting the wall behind him dropping his phone against his leg next to the outline of his dick. he tries to think of turn offs but truly he didn’t have many and whatever he thought of led him back to something that turned him on.

now he was left in the british history section with blue balls and flushed cheeks trying to decide what to do. he wondered what you were doing walking around the house still naked with a plug stretching your ass. so he did what he knew to do. text you.

evil roommate

what are you doing tonight?

he stared at his phone waiting for something, seeing your phone light up where it set on the coffee table. he watched you pick it up rolling your eyes and for some reason it made him more interested in you.

y/n

why does it matter?

he smirked at your response still peeking at the mini screen in the corner of his phone watching you sit back on the couch position oddly reminiscent of the first time he watched you. knees bent and legs spread just enough for him to view your glistening cunt and the glass base peeking out between your cheeks.

evil roommate

just wondering? maybe i have plans or something?

he waited for you to see the notification not ignoring the way your fingers danced between your legs to collect the cream spilling from your cunt.

y/n

well i won’t be home if that’s what you mean?

his eyebrow raised. if you were going to study or out with your friends you would just say that not beat around the bush. he got distracted though when your fingers circled your clit lazily. it felt more intimate for some reason. the fact that he was talking to you and watching you.

evil roommate

:( not staying cooped up in your room all night?

your fingers sped up wetness being spread around your soft pussy. you rolled your eyes wishing haechan would just shut up. you knew you couldn’t cum yet johnny had already made explicit rules but he didn’t say you couldn’t edge yourself.

y/n

i don’t want to be witness to whatever weird “plans” you have

he grinned, if only you knew. his plans consisted of watching videos of you and busting as many nuts as possible. if you weren’t home he would be able to sneak in and steal another pair of panties. he breathed deeply thinking of your smell that was so close but so far away. recalling how hard he had cum when he had stolen them before. fabric shoved in his mouth, your taste lingering on his tongue. the panties between his teeth silenced his loud whine when his eyes rolled back and legs started shaking. god he needed to stop his mind from wandering; he was just getting harder.

evil roommate

how do you know i have weird plans? when have i ever done anything weird at our house?

you stopped, lifting your sticky fingers to your mouth as you read your phone. he watched you furrow your brows and type back quickly.

y/n

when have you done anything normal? just don’t do your plans in my room i like cleanliness.

evil roommate

seriously what are you doing though

y/n

it’s none of your beeswax

evil roommate

going to meet up with johnny or yuta? or both?

his lips twitch when he sees your eyes widen when you read the message. he could read you like a book, confirming his suspicions. not only were the guys' stories most likely true but you were going to meet up with both of them to get your back blown out. haechan wanted to be a fly on whatever wall got to witness that scene. he watches you squirm and shuffle around typing and deleting and typing and deleting a response.

evil roommate

what embarrassed? cat got your tongue?

you rolled your eyes, biting your lip while you thought of a response. he was right but he didn’t need to know that. you didn’t want you sex crazed roommate having any intimate information about your sex life let alone what you did with johnny or yuta.

y/n

it’s literally none of your business if i’m seeing anyone or no one. but fyi johnny invited me over to see the movie he’s been working on for his final

that was technically true. johnny was working on a film for a final, he had been talking about it for a while. and you were going to view some sort of media he had filmed before. whether you were in it or not was none of haechan’s business. yuta also happened to be invited, johnny had been teasing the final cut of a tape he had made with you. sadly jaehyun was out of town for some away game. you were half happy and sad, happy you wouldn’t have a dick in every hole but sad you wouldn’t have a dick in every hole by the end of the night.

haechan knew what you were talking about. johnny had been filming a documentary since the beginning of the semester. he didn’t fully believe you unless you were going to do that and then get dicked down during or after.

evil roommate

okay fine just wondering what if i wanted to spend the evening with my most favorite housemate :)

you breathed out a laugh as if you were his favorite roommate. he knew he was your least favorite. you much preferred his friends being over eating your food and being loud to him just staying in his room.

y/n

yeah… you have the whole house to yourself to fuck whatever and whoever you should be happy just make sure the clean up after :)

he grinned to himself thinking of sitting in the very spot you were sitting completely naked on the couch. and he would take you up in that and fuck whatever and whoever while he was home alone. and he would watch videos of you while he did. maybe even connect his hdmi to the living room tv get your pretty pussy on the big screen.

you closed your phone, dropping it on the cushion beside you before getting up, mood ruined by haechan’s pestering. haechan watched the way your ass bounced as you walked down the hall to your room.

he closed his phone too. finally getting up grabbing his bag and stalking to the bathrooms locking the stall and finally getting the release you unknowingly withheld from him.

he paid extra attention to wake up earlier the next day despite his tiresome late night activities, and watch you come home. taking care to see any signs of hard sex, bruises, hickies, or even a limp.

but when you came home and he was sitting on the couch eating cereal he didn’t particularly notice which made him question all his conclusions from the day before. maybe you had just gone to johnny’s to watch his film and maybe u just liked wearing a butt plug around.

you didn’t talk to him when you got home heading straight for your room not even sparing him a glance as he stared at you searching for something.

he stayed on the couch for most of the day and into the evening playing tears of the kingdom to no end. not even noticing jaemin coming and going or karina complaining about some project she hasn’t started and needing to camp out at the library.

you eventually joined him in the living room giving in to his pestering to show you the new game you had been waiting to play. he talked way too much about all the new features that didn’t completely make sense but you listened anyway and watched him die by bokoblin’s.

his eyes caught sight of your neck when your shirt collar shifted seeing a bite mark hidden on your left breast. maybe his theories were correct, but his suspicions were distracting him, causing him to die once again.

his lack of skill in the new game had you laughing but also frustrated you, eventually grabbing the controllers and trying your hand but dying just as fast as he did. blaming it on his shitty weapons or lack of hearts.

“told you,” he said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair when you died once more, eyes drifting to your wrist noticing raised skin reminiscent of rope burn. thoughts wandering to what you looked like tied up.

“is this harder than breath of the wild or am i just rusty?”

“definitely both but you suck at breath of the wild too.”

“shut up!” you squealed faux throwing the controller at his head making him duck.

“wait let me show you this video.” he pulled out his phone, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “some dude used the building materials and built this walking stick man with a flamethrower for his dick.” he laughed, scrolling through his camera roll to find the video. he held the phone to your face and you watched on, laughter filling the room.

you grabbed the phone from his hand replaying the video watching the awkward wooden creation blast across the screen with a flame shooting from its lower half. your laughter faded turning into a face of confusion when you tapped the screen to rewind seeing the video thumbnails surrounding that one.

“what the fuck is this lee donghyuck!?” tapping the arrow in the corner, the screen filled with various thumbnails and many of you sitting in the very room you occupied now.

“oh not the government name,” he chuckled as he leaned forward to see what you were talking about the color draining from his face when you began playing a video, the static sound coming from his phone.

“what the actual fuck is this.” you shrieked, shoving the phone in his face and he looked like he was about to be sick. the video clip he had saved, one of you sitting in the exact chair he was sitting on, fingers drilling into yourself as you came with a cry.

“you’ve been filming me?” you were oddly calm in his opinion but his mind was racing trying to come up with something to say while his mouth was suddenly dry.

he had always fantasized about being caught during one of his escapades but that had never actually happened. and now that you were glaring at him asking him questions and his stomach was dropping to his ass.

“i asked you a question you fucking freak.”

“let me explain.”

“explain what? that you’re a fucking pervert who secretly films his roommate?” you shrill standing up and staring daggers down at him.

“i was trying to figure out who was stealing my ice cream.” he said shyly realizing how fucking stupid he sounded bringing his fingers to fiddle with the hem of his shorts.

“oh my god you fucking idiot. no one wants your fucking ice cream. you set up cameras and didn’t tell us? you know that’s illegal? are you fucking stupid or just dumb or both?” haechan peered up at you avoiding eye contact but trying to pay attention. his face felt hot and embarrassment flooded him with each passing second.

“i didn’t.” he paused, looking up at you through his lashes. “didn’t think it was a big deal since it’s like a common area. i didn’t mean to watch you but-“ he paused looking down between his legs. you laughed down at him tossing his phone on the table between the couch and chair where he sat.

“but what?” you questioned bringing your fingers to push his forehead back so he would meet your eyes. haechan was trying his hardest not to get hard knowing you could literally call the cops on him but you looked so hot glaring at him from above. he didn’t know that you were just as perverted as him, planning out how to punish him.

“i- it was an accident. the first time. really i swear.” he stared up at you, his hands raised in defense trying to make you believe him.

“then why did you save it? you were getting off to me weren’t you? fucking freak.” your words stung but went straight to his growing cock. he didn’t want to answer hoping his silence was enough.

“were you?”

“yes,” he whispered, before bringing his lips between his teeth.

“how many times?”

“i- i dunno.” he was being honest he lost track of the amount of times he had watched you. he knew it was more than 10 and probably less than 30 but he wasn’t totally sure.

“how long have you been doing it?” he tried to look away again, searching for an answer like it would appear in front of him. but you grabbed his face squeezing his cheeks in your hand making him look at you.

“maybe more than a month i - i can’t - don’t remember.” he stumbled over his words before you released his face but only to bring your hand back slapping his cheek. and he whined he fucking whined, raising his hand to rub at the reddening flesh.

“remember better then.”

“okay it was the day yang and taro came over and we ate all that pizza and you got mad at us because we spilled garlic sauce on your lit book. but we blamed taro so you wouldn’t be as mad since you like him but it was really yangyang that spilled it.” the confession came bubbling out like he was a volcano ready to erupt.

“haechan, that was over 2 months ago.” you sigh almost mocking him. “so you have been watching me everytime?” he nodded slightly.

“everytime?” you repeated.

“if i couldn’t watch it live i would save it and watch it when i could,” he confessed. something about the thought of him being so into it he would save it for later made you clench around nothing.

“did you cum too?” you could practically hear him gulp when you leaned down coming face to face with him. he didn’t answer, just attempted to avoid eye contact. “i fucking asked if you came while you watched me?”

“i couldn’t help it,” he stuttered.

“you know you’re fucking disgusting right?” you questioned bringing your hand to his face again rubbing over the red cheek before slapping it again. he hissed this time hips jumping up.

“a disgusting little pervert and you're getting off now aren’t you?” you brought your other hand to hover over his crotch before firmly gripping his length making him curse under his breath.

“you know i should call the police, the dean, file a report, get you kicked out of school at the least.” he nodded below you as you grazed his cheek with one hand and squeezed your other around his length.

“that wouldn’t be as fun though.” you smiled when you lifted a leg to straddle him. his breathing sped up when he felt you rest your warmth fully on his lap. he wanted to buck his hips into you, rut into your fist for some relief.

“i’m going to watch you now, and your little cameras in here are going to record it. then you’re going to save it and send it to me. got it?”

he nodded, his hair bouncing on his forehead before you leaned back, removing your hands from his face and clothed cock. he quickly moved his hands from his side, fiddling with his waistband to pull his cock out.

“nuhuh,” you stopped him. “i didn’t say i was gonna watch you get yourself off, did i?” he shook his head. “you think you deserve to touch yourself after that’s all you’ve been doing when you watch me?”

“i’m not going to let you have the joy of picking a toy, obviously.” you grinned, head tilting. “but what is your favorite? if you’ve been watching me i’m sure you’re familiar with them.” his eyes widen and scan the content in his mind focusing in on certain toys he’s seen you use.

“the purple one.” he says, picturing the small purple wand he had seen you many times and it always left you gushing. you raised an eyebrow, immediately knowing what toy he was talking about. you lifted yourself off of him walking around his chair and down the hall without a word.

he tried to steady his breathing and prepare himself for whatever you had in store. he was also insanely relieved you hadn’t immediately called the police to report him. he heard your door open and shut and your feet pat down the hall and behind him.

he gasped when he felt a cool medal on his right wrist, he turned quickly eyes shaking just as you closed a cuff around his wrist. he just stared as you yanked his other arm over his head and tightened the other cuff around it, securing his hands together before letting his arms fall in front of him and land on his lap.

he’d been cuffed before usually at his own volition or with this guy from his biochem class but that fizzled out a year or more ago. never by a hot girl like you who was about to punish him. you finally stood in front of him, light purple wand in one hand.

“your perverted little mind is probably running a mile a minute.” you were right he wanted to know what you were going to do to him, if his camera was getting all of this.

“stand up.” he tried to as quick as he could but his legs wobbled but he did it. you faced him and grabbed the chain that connected his hands pulling him to the couch where you had been sitting before releasing him and tugging his shorts down in one swift movement. he hissed when his cock made contact with the cool air and slapped the chain that connected his wrists.

“aww aren’t you cute,” you lilted, kneeling in front of him staring at his leaking cock before flicking the head with your finger making him jerk forward. he didn’t have a chance to regain balance before you pushed him back on the couch with a thud. he squirmed on the leather seat cock bobbing between his legs precum beading at the slit.

“you really are a freak,” you smiled, lifting the toy admiring the familiar ridges that left you quivering. you held it beside his own cock admiring aching member. haechan’s cock was what you would call pretty, plush red tip, subtle veining, not too long and just slightly thicker than average. it seemed to hang heavy between his supple thighs.

“why do you like this one?” you ask, tilting your head curiously looking at him from between his legs. he’d dreamt of you between his legs but not while he was handcuffed and you were scolding him, more of you between his legs choking on his cock.

“uh, i, you,” he paused, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. “you, i watched you use it.”

“oh really? of course you have. what haven’t you seen at this point.” you roll your eyes flicking your wrist to tap against his lower stomach with the tip of the toy to bring his attention back to you.

“you, you looked so hot. you always look hot, but you use this one so much,” he whispered. his words made heat pool between your legs. the idea of him watching you cum over and over, none the wiser to his viewing. if you had known you might have been more deliberate with your actions.

“did you like that? did watching me get you all hard?” you cooed bringing your fingers to circle the head of his cock collecting the precum spreading it around. he hummed staring down at the movement between his legs. “i bet you came in your pants like a stupid bitch.” your words were shooting to his cock, twitching when before you flicked the head again making his legs shake.

“i loved it. i love it.” he whimpered.

“how’d you touch yourself?” you cocked a brow at him waiting for his response. you’d never gotten off on dominating someone always preferring to be the one getting dominated, but you could feel your panties dampening with each reaction, sound, and bob of his cock.

“i was at work.” he started licking his lips. “i uh, it wasn’t busy. i went to the employee bathrooms. you were still, you weren’t using it yet. you were sitting here and fingering yourself. your pussy was so wet, i wanted to taste you so bad.” he paused again taking a breath. “put my phone on the sink so i could watch you but then i kept seeing myself in the mirror. watched you and watched myself when i came. came so hard watching you. fucking pussy was so wet you were fucking dripping. wanted to be in you. came so hard and so much, made a mess. got in trouble for being gone for so long but it was worth it.” he finished finally making eye contact with you.

you hoped he didn’t notice how turned on he was making you. the way he spoke about you in such a filthy way. you didn’t see haechan, your obnoxious annoying roommate in front of you, but donghyuck, the loser you met your first year who was awkward and shy and not so secretly harboring a perverted feelings for you.

“you are fucking pathetic.” you raised your voice using the toy that was still in your hand to tap along his clothed stomach and up his chest. he keened when the toy brushed his nipples through the fabric of his sweatshirt.

he knew you knew about how sensitive his nipples were. it was just common knowledge in your circle everyone picked on haechan for it, pinching and tweaking his nipples to make him scream. no one knew that it made his cock hard though, of course now you would know.

“i am,” he confirmed, biting his lip when you laughed at his squirming.

“at least you’re aware.” you paused, dropping the toy in the his lap and bringing your fingers to unzip his sweatshirt. he was glad he didn’t wear anything beneath offering you easy access to his nipples. he whined when your skin finally met his, the teasing touches felt like electricity sparking on his chest.

“i’m so fucking pathetic,” he groaned when you tweaked his nipples, pinching the buds between your soft fingers, nails pressing into the pebbled skin. you laughed tauntingly at him, something about the way he called himself pathetic was so hot.

“i bet you’re glad i caught you, right? you were waiting and hoping for it. this is all your perverted little fantasies coming true. you should be thanking me.” there was spit pooling in his mouth, he felt dumb already, with how you were looking up at him an evil glint in your eyes and a teasing lilt in your tone.

“thank you, fuck.” he paused when you let your hand roam lower, one staying on his left nipple the other tickling lightly over his stomach. “thank you so much.”

you grabbed the toy again pressing the well worn button the sound of vibrations filled the space between you and haechan’s eyes widened. you moved the toy to tap against his nipple making him keen and fold into himself whines sliding up his throat.

“you’re so sensitive,” you coo at his reaction. switching the toy swiftly to the neglected nipple, making him squirm. you could help but laugh at how pathetic he looked squirming in front of you begging to stop but also asking for more his cock was throbbing precum slipping out with each pulse.

“it’s - fuck- ‘s too much,” he mewled pitifully, legs quivering.

“aww sorry, is it too much for you,” you teased lifting the toy from his nipple as he nodded.

“maybe this will help,” you offered, upping the vibrations before bringing the buzzing device between his legs touching the head of his cock. his eyes flew open as he groaned and writhed.

“please, y/n, oh god,” he strained the veins in his neck and lower stomach appearing under his skin.

“please what?” his hands were trying to separate but the chain didn’t let them so he opened and closed his fists tightly fully overwhelmed.

“i’m gonna cum oh god,” he cried, jerking his hips to rub against the buzzing toy.

“we can’t have that, can we,” you teased, pulling the toy away swiftly, making him whimper.

“please.” he sounded like he was sobbing now as his head hung down.

“do you really think it would be that easy?” you asked bringing the still buzzing toy back to his nipples his stomach tensed warm pleasure flooding him again.

“i’m sorry, fuck, so sorry,” he cried, bucking his hips up off the couch. you smirked at him turning up the toy again with a simple click. “please don’t i’ll cum.”

“you’ll cum just from your nipples?” your curiosity might just get the best of you when he nodded weakly.

“no way,” you teased excitedly, eager to see if he was telling the truth. you used your other hand to squeeze and pinch the untouched bud.

“can’t take it,” he whimpered, giving up to the tightening in his stomach so close to letting go.

“cum then, little pervert,” that was all he needed, the degrading name going straight to unravel the knot in his stomach. his hips jerked hot cum spurting out of his cock as you looked on in awe. his body was hot and buzzing, cum painting his chest.

“good boy.” you smiled, pulling the toy away and turning it off dropping it somewhere beside him. you dipped your fingers over his stomach collecting his cum before smearing it on his cheeks. he stuck his tongue out chasing your fingers. you scoffed slapping your sticky hand across his messy cheek.

“fuck,” he whimpered as you stood up in front of him, reaching to pat his head and brush the hair from his face. you didn’t realize how sweaty he had gotten, strands of hair sticking to his skin and his glasses were slightly foggy as he was catching his breath.

“i’m still not done with you. wouldn’t it be so much fun to just leave you sitting here cock out, cum on your chest, and handcuffed. your little camera, wherever it is, to record you.” his eyes went wide, shaking his head furiously.

“no no no what if jaemin or karina come home. no please,” he begged, whimpering up at you.

“then they would point and laugh at you, but you would like that too fucking perv.” you lifted your hands to pull your own shirt over your head seeing the boys’ adam’s apple bob as he made eye contact with your tits.

“fuck me,” he murmured, eyeing the bite marks that littered your chest.

“isn’t it better to see the real thing, in person? not through your shitty camera.” you told him as your own fingers now touched your nipples pulling and tugging at the buds. you felt more excited watching his reaction the way his eyes scanned as you toyed with your tits.

“so much fucking better.” he confirmed but you didn’t really need him to. his hands opened and closed almost trying to reach out for you.

“where is your little camera anyways?” you said turning around looking around the room.

“on the dvd shelf,” he says, hanging his head. you walked over to the shelf looking between dusty cd and dvd cases. “it’s with the old psp games.” he looked back up, gawking at the site of your bare back, marks from someone or multiple someone’s teeth littered your shoulders and neck along with a mark he again assumed was rope burn that went around your shoulders and disappeared at your back.

“aha,” you sounded, finally finding the small camera in the corner of the dark shelf. “as if you weren’t trying to be sneaky.” you laughed waving at the camera. you turned back around to face him but you didn’t move back towards him.

“i’m sorry,” he offered again.

“oh you will be. this camera is going to get the best view of me ruining you,” he groaned in response leaning back against the couch. you stalked back over to him and he looked back up at you.

“i think i’ve decided what else to do with you and you can tell me your color. i know you’re into this but i’m not as much of a perv as you and i value consent.” you brought your hands to your hips as he nodded up at you. “got it?”

“yes. i’m so green right now.”

“umhuh.” you slipped your hands beneath your waistband slipping your shorts down and letting them pool at your ankles. haechan wanted to cry not from anything other than how hot you were like your body was sculpted by michelangelo. the real thing was so much better than the cameras.

“eyes up here hyuck,” the endearing nickname slipping for your mouth and settling somewhere in haechan’s tummy filling him with warmth as he looked back up into your eyes.

“sorry you’re just so pretty,” he gulped.

“i know.” you laughed, stepping forward between his legs. “i don’t think you really deserve any of this for how disgusting you are. but at the same time i think you should stop fantasizing and get the real thing once right?” he nodded harshly, hair bobbing around his face. you brought one leg up, resting a foot on the arm of the couch fully trapping him with your cunt on display. his mouth was watering, your wetness glistening right in front of him he could practically taste you.

“you’re not even listening.” you tutted, bringing your hand between your legs a site he was all too familiar with. you dipped your fingers between your lips collecting an obscene amount of slick with your fingers before pulling them away. you leaned in front of haechan bringing your soaked fingers to shove between his lips. he moaned around your fingers not breaking eye contact as his tongue swirled around your creamy digits.

“this will help you focus, right?” you questioned, he nodded humming around your fingers. you moved your leg again this time bending to settle on his thighs again you could feel the heat radiating off of him as your skin pressed to his. his cock was just a few centimeters from being pressed against your own stomach.

“i’m going to ride you, and you’re going to like it, right?" he nodded, moaning again in response as your fingers fucked into his mouth. “and you’re going to make me cum. but you don’t cum until i say so.” he whimpered but bobbed his head anyway.

“good boy,” you praised, pulling your fingers from his mouth, spit spilling from his lips. you didn’t clean your hand bringing the slippery digits to caress his cheek mixing with his cum.

you leaned over grabbing the toy you had teased him with earlier before slipping off his lap and settling beside him. he watched intently the way you laid back against the opposite arm of the couch and spread your legs just for him. he turned his body fully peering between your legs, cunt glistening and fluttering.

“i didn’t say to move,” you said sternly, bringing a foot to press against his shoulder and push him back into his place before letting your leg drape over his. he neck craned to get the best view of your pussy.

you brought the toy between your legs sliding it over your clit circling the raised nub. you relaxed into the feeling staring at haechan who was staring between your legs, finally getting a front row seat to his favorite show.

“you’re drooling.” you taunt, and he brings his connected hands to wipe at the skin around his mouth just rubbing the spit around rather than removing it.

you turned on the toy, the vibrations immediately overtaking you, the buzz spreading in your lower stomach. you whined pulling your lip between your teeth flicking your wrist pleasure washing over you. you swirled the toy as pressure built in your stomach.

“you’re so fucking hot,” haechan mumbled, glancing up to see your face twist in pleasure. you watched him swipe his tongue over his lips and visibly gulp seeing the cream already dripping from between your legs.

you reached up grabbing his hair and pulled him to you kissing him harshly, it didn’t take him long to collect himself moving his lips against yours. his hands fumbled trying to rest them around you but just tugging against each other. you continued pressing the toy between your legs whimpering against his mouth.

he moaned into you when you slipped your tongue into his mouth. he tasted like those stupid double vanilla yogurt bars he loved so much.

you pulled him away spit connecting your mouths as his tongue lapped up as if reaching for you. you turned off the toy tossing it beside you, gripping his hair tighter and tugging him between your legs.

“use your tongue,” you whispered and he didn’t need another word, tongue sliding over your clit. kitten licking at your most sensitive spot, you tasted better than he could have imagined, still reminiscent of the taste of your panties but double or tripled or whatever.

he leaned in deeper feeling the tug on his scalp as he lapped at your hole feeling it flutter against his wet muscle. his tongue explored every spot it could touch sucking and drinking you up. he couldn’t hear you whining from the wet smacking his mouth was making as he ate you like his final meal.

he felt your hand pull his hair harder and your thighs shiver around his head, squeezing his glasses frame into his cheeks. he recognized the shiver as an indicator you were close so he went harder, suctioning his mouth around your clit and flicking his tongue over the bud. he was grinding down against the couch awkwardly cock already hard again grunting into your cunt.

your eyes rolled back as you came against his face, hips bucking, riding out your orgasm. he didn’t stop until you physically pulled him away, chin shiny and lips pulled in a shy smile.

“you taste so fucking good,” he looked up at you, leaning in again to lick one more long strip collecting as much slick as he could. you let go of his hair laying back to catch your breath and he stayed between your legs.

suddenly realizing how badly his wrists hurt pressed into the couch awkwardly beneath him. he sat up, eyes not leaving you, wanting so desperately to grab your hips and fuck his cock into your cunt.

finally opening your eyes looking up at him, heat in your cheeks and his hair was disheveled, glasses slipping down his nose. he was licking over his lips swiping his sleeve over his chin.

you sat back up and straddled him again before lifting up to your knees bringing a hand between the both of you grabbing his length and pressing it to your slippery entrance.

“holy fuck,” haechan groaned, staring down watching his cock slide between your folds. he could cum again just from this but he was determined to feel you wrapped around him. he felt dizzy with each swirl of your hips, your clit was swollen and puffy against his plush head.

“i’ve barely done anything,” you laughed, hearing him let out a strangled gasp when you sat down in one fluid motion. you sighed feeling so full all at once and his cock was so perfect filling you up completely.

“you’re fucking, holy shit, y/n.” he whined, hands grabbing for you but the chain stopping him from being able to hold your skin. he was squirming beneath you head shaking back and forth eyes closed, lashes fluttering on his cheeks. “fucking tight.”

“i know, hyuck,” you said, squeezing around him using it as punctuation. you lifted your hips finally moving, letting his cock slide inside of you perfectly. he looked a mess in front of you sweat trailing down his exposed chest and hair scruffy.

your hands slide under his sleeves pushing them down before gripping his shoulders using him for leverage bringing your hips up before slamming back down. his breath was hot and heavy as he leaned up and nuzzled into your chest. his tongue hung out of his mouth like a puppy panting and begging.

releasing one of his shoulders you reached between you both, yanking the chain that connected his hands pulling on it to lift his hands above his head and push them against the wall pressing into his chest. he looked up at you needy and desperate fists clenching in the air.

“keep them up,” you commanded, and he could only nod up at you, keeping his arms in place over his hand. this gave you more room to swivel your hips above him.

“good boy, you feel so good, hyuckie,” you mewled, grinding down on him, clit pressing into his hips. he whimpered at the nickname head lulling back into your chest with a cry. his tongue stuck out again leaving wet strips against your skin he was murmuring against you but you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

his hips were thrusting upwards, meeting your every move. his hands felt heavy above his head and he urged, to bring them around you trapping you against him but he wasn’t going to break another rule.

“feel so good. wanna fuck you,” he mouthed against your breast tongue searching for your nipple.

“you are fucking me,” you breathed, threading a hand through his hair, the head of his cock pressing perfectly deep inside of you.

“no i- i know,” he paused, slurping lewdly sucking your nipple into his mouth making you gasp. “i want to fuck you.” he repeated his words came out garbled as his tongue swirled around the bud. he looked up at you mischievously batting his lashes.

“i’m not uncuffing you if that's what you think.” you said sternly gripping his locks and pulling his head from your chest to look down at him while your hips were bucking erratically on top of him.

“hurts.”

“good,” you replied with a smile that was quickly replaced with an open mouthed gasp and a tighter grip on his hair. he thrusted up into you, filling you to the brim, your walls squeezing his cock.

“can i please? been fucking dreaming of your cunt.” he leaned back resting his arms on his head for some relief. “i mean literally,” he paused with a groan eyes moving down from your sticky chest to his cock disappearing into your cunt. “having wet fucking dreams like a loser.”

“you are a loser and a filthy pervert. dreaming about your roommate who you’ve been peeping on it’s fucking disgusting.” he reeled at your words shooting to his cock, squeezing his eyes together fending off the urge to release hot cum inside your tight hole like he had dreamed.

“tell me your dream.” his eyes opened glazed over with lust and desire looking at you, cheeks red and glasses fully fogged hiding the dilation of his pupils.

“had you, in my bed.” he paused when you rocked particularly hard against him. “laid down all pretty. fucking sexy, was fucking you so good. you kept crying and crying and wanting more. shit- fucked my cum into your cunt.” his words went straight between your legs stomach tightening as you clenched around his cock before you brought your fingers from his hair to his chest and already to his abused nipples.

“fuck oh my god you’re gonna make me cum,” he cried hands falling from his head to push against your stomach trying to stop you.

“you gonna fuck your cum into my cunt?” you teased feeling your own orgasm rushing towards you. he nodded squirming at the feeling doing everything he could to stop himself. but your warm tight heat was sucking him in like a vice, he wanted so badly to bend you over ass up and fuck his cum deep into your cunt until you were full and dripping.

“then do it,” you demanded. he stared at you as if asking for permission eyes glinting up at you with need when you nodded back at him. he wasted no time, his arms moved up and over you trapping you against his sweaty chest, hands splaying over your back and moving down to try and grip at your ass, as his hips sped up beneath you. the new angle allowing him to fill you up deeper, cock hitting you perfectly. skin smacking together moaning in unison as he pounded into you.

“i’m gonna cum, hyuck,” you whined, eyes closed as he stared up at you with determination.

“cum on my cock, fuck. gonna fill you up,” he groaned, his tongue licked against your chest again driving you over the edge with a cry and shaking legs.

“holy shit,” you mewled, letting the pleasure overtake you, grinding down on his hips in return.

“fuck you’re so fucking tight,” he whined, suddenly you not only wanted him to cum but you needed him to. bringing your fingers from his shoulders to tap your fingers down his chest and pinch at his nipples.

“fuck, y/n,” hot breath hitting your neck as he groaned. you were dancing on the edge of over sensitivity.

“cum for me, fill my cunt up, please hyuckie,” you whined, he responded with a moan and jerk of his hips letting his hot cum shoot deep inside of you.

he continued thrusting into you looking down at the white ring forming around the base of his cock as you tried to push at his hips to stop him but he had you pressed against himself.

“don’t wanna fucking stop, shit,” he groaned as his hips finally slowed the overstimulation spreading down his own body making his toes curl and legs shake.

you fell against him, head tucking into his neck as you caught your breath. his hands smoothed over your back relaxing you.

“gimme your hands,” you finally said breaking the silence and he lifted his arms from around you bringing them between you both.

“you take the cameras down tomorrow,” you said sternly and he nodded. you grabbed his hands pressing a button on one cuff to unlock it before doing the other. once his hands were free he brought them back around you, grabbing your ass like he had been wishing to do before lifting you up.

“shh, let me,” he answered before you could protest. he laid you back against the couch before pulling out staring between your legs watching his cum slide out. he leaned down face to face with your cunt again. his fingers spreading your pussy as he leaned in to lap his own cum from your cunt. you gawked at him watching him lewdly slurp your pussy collecting every drop of your combined juices.

“you really are disgusting,” he just smirked up at you from between your legs. not moving as he let his tongue roam your cunt again.

“nope,” you said pushing a hand against his head already feeling overstimulated. but he didn’t really care you tasted so good and looked so good from where he sat.

“hyuck, ‘m sensitive,” you whimpered, protests going unnoticed as you squirmed and pulled on his hair.

“just taste so good,” he mumbled, hands reaching to grab your thighs he so desperately wanted to grip earlier. he felt unrestricted this time hands kneading your skin feeling the goosebumps rise.

“too much,” you whined when he suckled your clit into his mouth. he tried to hold back a smile peaking up at you through his frames, eyes shut tight, lip pulled between your teeth, pretty face twisted in pleasure.

he couldn’t get enough lapping at your hole still tasting himself mixing with you. just reaffirming that he had really fucked you it wasn’t some fever dream. he fucked you and made you cum twice and came in your pretty pussy.

“so fucking good. just stay still,” he groaned into you vibrating against your cunt making your legs shake around him.

“so hard, ‘s too much, hyuck,” you whimpered, your other hand had moved up to grip your breast while the other stayed pulling at his locks.

“just one more, baby,” he smiled, leaning back to admire the way your cunt was gushing all over again before settling back placing kisses over your lips and clit. he moved one of the hands holding you down rest just above the action where he was fucking his tongue into you. his fingers swirled over your clit making you whine.

“sound so pretty. even better in person,” he chuckled, the pleasure was bubbling in your stomach all over again.

he watched you shiver knowing you were close he moved his fingers and suctioned his mouth around your clit flicking his tongue over the swollen bud listening to your whine and whimper was music to his ears.

“cum,” he said releasing for a moment before diving back between your legs slurping at your cunt. you couldn’t hold it back legs shivering around his face again, crying into your palm as you came.

“good girl,” he said between licks, he finally pulled away when the tugging on his hair got to be too much. you laid there catching your breath staring up at the ceiling.

“you’re pussy is like the most perfect creation, swear to god,” he said rather seriously taking you from your empty day dream to look over at him admiring the space between your legs. he glanced up at you making quick eye contact before watching your still fluttering hole. your head felt full and foggy but also empty and numb.

“would you sit on my face.”

“no more,” you said sitting up to push him off.

“maybe like tomorrow,” he asked with a smirk.

“shut up,” you groaned moving your legs from around him and rolling off the couch. wobbling on your feet he lifted a hand to slap your ass playfully, you whined cuffs in one hand and toy in the other before walking down the hall. he watched you patter to your room listening for the door.

“wanna play more zelda,” he called when he got off the couch, legs equally as shaky.

“yeah in like thirty minutes,” you called back making him smile.

before long you were both back together on the couch, cleaned up and somewhat put together sitting beside each other sharing his double vanilla yogurt ice cream and bickering back and forth about the gameplay.

“can i put one in your room?” haechan asked when the conversation had lulled. you sat up staring daggers into him.

“have you learned nothing?”

“if i say no will you do that again?” he smirked over at you.

“god you really are sick in the head.”

“i love it when you’re mean to me,” he said, tilting his head to tease you.

“probably a little too much don’t you think?” you asked, rolling your eyes and leaning back.

“a normal amount for a perverted fuck like me,” you laughed at him eyes drifting back to the screen when he unpaused and started to play again. the room was somewhat quiet until he offered you tips and tried to tell you what he was doing in the game.

your mind was drifting similarly to the way his did earlier. the idea of having him watch you but knowing this time was arousing all over again. you thought to the camera that was still in the room that had recorded the two of you fucking not even an hour earlier. you wondered what it would be like if there was a camera in his room that you could watch. catching him jerking off at his desk or humping his pillow or having a wet dream about god knows what.

“you can put one in my room but only if i get to put one in your room,” his jaw dropped, not expecting you to agree and add delicious stipulations.

“are you fucking serious,” he said, as link fell from a sky island to his death.

“yes, but don’t be weird about it. we’re not making this weird,” you said gesturing between the two of you and whatever this relationship was. “also no watching if there’s someone else involved.”

“deal,” he raised his hand for a shake of agreement, he tried to seem casual but his mind was running a marathon at all the prospects.

“since you’re being so generous, will you tell me who’s been eating my ice cream?” he said tipping the popsicle stick to you, you laughed over at him.

“shotaro.” you responded with a glint in your eyes.

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cassiefromhell · 7 months

Text

The Game

Nanami x Wife!Reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: f!reader, mdni/18+, smut, teasing, ROUGH, manhandling, gentle choking, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering a/n: this is a combination of my reaction to the latest jjk ep and a general need for manhandling nanami.

You know exactly what is coming for you.

You can feel his eyes on you from across the room. Watching you.

Watching his pretty little wife play games that she’d lose.

Because you have one goal in mind: piss off your husband, Nanami Kento.

Which is not an easy task. But you had pissed him off once before, a few weeks ago, and had been insatiably craving more. His reaction that night was… his hands in your hair, throwing you back against the bed, the words out of his mouth—

You can’t help but blush a little at the memories that flood your head now, as you speak to a man twice your age at this party. You know this man thinks he has a chance with you. He came up to you earlier, and is now flirting with you relentlessly, seeming blind to the ring on your marriage finger which marks you as claimed.

You giggle a little at something he says, taking your poker and stabbing at the fire. You sip the glass of wine in your hands. There’s no need to look over your shoulder to confirm; Kento is most decidedly watching you.

And that fire? It’s growing.

You can feel the way your white silk mini dress has ridden up your thighs a little, but you don’t do anything to fix it, no matter how much the skin on the back of your thighs sizzles and sears under his scorched gaze.

All it takes is for the man to reach out, try to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and the flame explodes.

Hands are on your waist in an instant, a cotton-covered, firm chest pressed against your back. You know that chest. Those hands.

“I think it’s time for us to get going, don’t you think, dear?” Kento grits out, his thumbs digging into your skin. A warning.

“Oh,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him. You’re met with a hard-set jaw and cold eyes, as your husband stares down the inferior man who got a centimeter too close. “But it’s raining. We’ll have to wait for it to slow down a bit, or have a valet bring the car around, we’re parked a block away—”

“We’ll walk. Goodbye,” he flashes the tightest, fakest smile you’ve ever seen, and then turns you towards the elevator, pushing you in that direction.

And what choice do you have? You half walk, half stumble forward, his hands never faltering in their iron grip the whole walk over. He stops you in front of the elevator.

“Button,” he commands, jerking his chin towards the panel with two buttons, one an up arrow and the other down.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“It seems that if I let you go for half a second, you’ll run off and let yourself get eye-fucked by a nobody in a cheap suit. Button,” he growls, his hands tightening their grip, causing your sides to protest.

You whimper softly, reaching out and pressing the down button. It glows a soft blue, and you tilt your head to the side, gazing up at your angry, blond man. “What’s got you in such a frenzy? I was socializing—”

He scoffs. “Socializing. Sure. I know the game you’re playing, and might I remind you that it’s a game you can’t win, darling.”

You swallow hard, fighting back a flinch as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

Empty.

Kento shuffles you both inside, and holds the ‘close doors’ button so hard that you’re afraid it might actually crack.

The elevator doors slide closed, and he releases you, taking two steps back.

Suddenly, the air is so thick that you can hardly breathe, and the thought of the fingerprint bruises he’s likely left on you fills your head.

“Ke—”

“No. No more words from you,” he spits out, practically punching the ground floor button.

You pout, and take a step towards him. “‘Nam, c’mon,” you poke that damned fire again, just waiting for it to burn you.

And it does.

His arm snaps out, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “I said, quiet.”

That sharp anger in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, abdomen tensing. You bite your bottom lip, and try your luck. “You’re a little angry, huh?”

Your back is against the wall before you can even process what’s happened, before you recognize that he’s shoved you into the corner of the elevator, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed firmly against your hip, keeping you in place. His body is fully pressed to yours, and the straining bulge you feel is unmistakable.

“Angry? You have no idea,” he says, his voice having dropped to an eerily calm tone. “I want to throw you onto the ground of this damned elevator and make you suck me off right here, right now. I want to fuck your throat, and then that kinky little cunt of yours, until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”

Your breath catches in your throat— no, it completely stops. You’re no longer breathing.

“Then do it.”

He gives a breathy chuckle, suddenly spinning you around, a hand knotting in your hair and shoving your cheek against the wall. And then he leans down, presses his lips against your ear, and…

“No. You’d like that too much.”

You whine, straining against his grip on you. Kento is usually ever the gentleman, the perfect white picket fence husband. He brings you roses each Friday and a piece of your favorite cake every Tuesday, and fucks the shit out of you each day when he returns from missions. But he’s so… polite, all the time, his touch gentle and his voice soft. He’s the type to rest his hand on your thigh while he drives, and carry you bridal style into the house.

But this Kento… This Kento is the reason you’re trying to piss him off. Because you unlocked the manhandling, relentless Kento once, and now can’t get enough of it.

Suddenly, the hand on your neck drops down, down, down to your thighs, and then up under your skirt. Kento’s fingers ghost over your bare pussy, straight up laughing when he realizes you’re wearing no underwear. But the laughter is harsh, and sends shivers down your spine.

“You really planned this, didn’t you dear.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Can you blame me?” You murmur, trying to grind down on his hand, the hand which is now cupping your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand juuuust below your clit. “Please.”

“We’re almost on our floor,” Kento suddenly releases you, fixing your dress with a soft touch and taking two steps back.

You open your mouth to complain, but right on cue, the elevator doors slide open. Kento presses a hand against the small of your back, forcibly guiding you out of the elevator, and across the plaza, out to the main doors.

Where it’s pouring.

You pause outside the glass doors, crossing your arms across your chest. “No. It’s pouring.”

Kento sighs, but looks you over, and realizes it at the same moment as you do; you’re wearing white.

And Kento is a gentleman.

“I’ll bring the car around. You stay right here, you understand me?”

You nod, and he’s out the doors in an instant.

You find yourself shifting on your feet as you wait, your heels really starting to do a number on you. You keep fixing your dress, trying to ignore how you’re wetter than the rain outside.

Your feet have not moved an inch when your familiar white BMW M8 pulls up to the doors, and your husband gets out of the driver's seat, umbrella in hand.

And he is soaking wet.

His blue shirt sticks to his chest, not hiding any of the rippling muscle along his entire torso. He’s discarded his gray suit jacket, but the pants have darkened a shade due to the rain. His hair sticks to his face, blond locks drenched.

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks when you realize how close you are to being able to make out his dick print, and that only worsens when he walks through those doors, headed straight for you.

“I didn’t move,” you murmur as he takes your arm, gripping your bicep tightly and heading for the exit once more.

“That earns you no brownie points tonight.”

Kento opens the umbrella as he drags you outside, holding it over your head. Not a drop of water hits you as he escorts you to the car, and then opens the door to the back seat.

You raise a brow. “Backseat?”

“So you can’t touch me,” he replies, and then promptly sweeps your feet out from under you, catches you, and tosses you into the back seat.

You yelp as your back hits the leather, and the door is closed immediately. Kento is in the driver’s seat before you can blink, staring at you in the rear view mirror.

You buckle yourself up, and he seems satisfied, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot at a speed that’s probably too fast.

You chew your bottom lip, watching his hair drip onto his face, watching his hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, watching his foot press the accelerator.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you murmur, leaning forward and running a hand over his hair, trying to squeeze some of the water out.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his head. “No touching.”

You pout, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward, pressing your face against his neck. “Kentoooo…”

You feel the change in his demeanor immediately. He tenses, and reaches back to grip your hair, yanking your head away from him.

“That’s it,” he hisses, and pulls the car into an empty parking lot, putting it in park.

He’s out of the driver’s seat instantly, coming around to the back, and climbing into the back seat.

You have to fight back your victorious grin, but he doesn’t have the same plans as you do, because he grabs you, and pulls you out of the car and into the rain.

“Kento—”

His mouth crashes into yours, and he grabs your chin tightly, his other hand holding your waist to his. You whimper into his mouth, trying to ignore the cold rainwater that’s certainly making your white dress translucent.

He pulls away just when you begin to shiver, then drags you around the car, putting you into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He appears back in the driver’s seat in an instant, his jaw once again set and eyes cold as ice.

“What happened to the no touching rule?” You grin, kicking off your heels.

“Better idea.”

He pulls back onto the road, eyes staying on the path ahead, all while his hand starts to make its way under your skirt.

You realize what he’s doing just as a finger plunges into you, sliding easily with your wetness. You groan loudly, whimpering as his thumb grazes your clit.

He slides in a second finger, and starts pulling them out and pushing them back in, all while stimulating your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for you to be whimpering and grinding against his hand, gripping the door for support and leverage.

With a few more strokes and swipes of his thumb, that coil in your abdomen begins to tighten, your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Ah— oh, shit…”

Kento withdraws his hand, and you open your mouth to protest, then realize he’s pulled the car into your garage, and is putting it in park.

And he presses the garage door closing button.

And then waits, both hands on the steering wheel, as the garage door closes.

The second that the concrete meets the door, Kento turns his head to look at you, all needy and desperate with pleas begging to escape your lips.

“You really want me to be rough with you?” he asks, his brows stitched together in concern.

“Wherever would you have gotten that impression?” you drone, raising a brow sarcastically. “I want to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of me.”

“You want to be hurt?”

“A little. I liked last time,” you murmur, allowing your mind to slip back a little bit, back to that night that had left you both bruised and begging for more.

“There are better ways to go about this than pissing me off,” your husband narrows his eyes, jaw clenching.

“This is the authentic way.”

“You’re spoiled, you know that?”

“You’re hard as fuck, you feel that?” your eyes flick to the bulge under his pants zipper.

That’s enough to send Kento flying out of the car, and before you know it, he’s opening your door, dragging you out by your bicep.

You yelp, stumbling forward as his grip on you — which is covered in your slick — remains firm. He pulls you into the house, and your back is pressed against a wall immediately, his mouth on yours, hand around your throat.

Kento pulls you up the wall, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching cunt against his shirt. He roots his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to be a bit painful.

Clearly he’s done waiting, because his dick is out within seconds, and he’s pulling up your dress. You whimper once the fabric is bunched up around your waist, gripping his shoulders.

“Please…”

“You think that’s enough?” he scoffs, tugging your hair and tilting your head back. “You flirt with another man, nearly let him touch you, act like a brat, and you expect me to just give it to you?” Nevertheless, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the slightest bit of pressure.

“Fuck—” you whine, groaning softly. The hand holding you up digs into your skin. “I’ll be good— jesus, please. I need you.”

Kento slaps your ass, and then thrusts nearly his entire thick length in at once, causing you to cry out, tears coming to your eyes. He immediately starts a bruising pace, fucking you into the wall so god damn hard that a picture frame nearby rattles.

You whimper as his cock reaches that sweet spot once— and then again, and again, until you’re matching each thrust with a tilt of your hips and a moan.

“Fuck— there you go, baby,” he grits out, yanking on your hair. “Take it all.”

That familiar cool begins to tighten, your abdomen tensing as he picks up his pace even more, and you wonder how it’s possible — untll you look down and realize he’s using the tiniest bit of cursed energy to fuck the actual shit out of you.

“Cum for me, come on. You wanted this so bad, so cum on my dick.”

And that’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge, stars flooding your vision and a long string of curses leaving your lips like a prayer.

His thrusts grow a little sloppier, and he spills himself into you with a hiss, leaving little nips along your jawline.

“I’m not close to being done with you, just as a fair warning,” he growls, and then tosses you over his shoulder.

At this point, you’re half dead.

But also half alive, kept awake by Kento’s hands rubbing circles along your skin, the bubbly bath water tickling your breasts.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to a bruise on your shoulder.

You give a half-babbled response, leaning into his warmth more.

“Full sentences, please.”

“Mm.. I love you,” you manage, turning to face him. You press your face into his neck and inhale his scent.

“I love you too.”

A long pause comes, with Kento just rubbing circles into your bruised sides. Then, he speaks.

“Now, what did we learn?”

“That pissing off the husband results in mind-blowing sex.”

He draws a sharp breath in, and smacks your shoulder gently. “No, no. We learned that we don’t have to piss the husband off, we just have to use our words and plan a date for these things.”

“That’s not very authentic.”

“Do I have a shot at winning this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright.”

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x wife!reader #smut #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #f!reader #second person #cassiefromhell

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itsjusthockey · 2 months

Text

A Hughes Affair - Jack Hughes

This might be my favorite and cutest shit I’ve wrote ever. Enjoy.

I’m bribing you. If I get lots of engagement (reblogs, comments, love in general) I’ll get nuts and do something crazy.

w.c: 4,541 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

On a rare day off that you and Jack get to spend together, you’d think he would want to spend it latched together somewhere private, away from his daily chaos. You would be wrong. Instead, he insists you spend the day at your least favorite place, doing your least favorite activity. The fucking golf course.

You’re two drinks in, lounging uncomfortably on the golf cart as you watch Jack take a swing, the ball immediately flying off the green toward the tree line. You can’t help but let out a loud snort, which earns a nasty glare from your boyfriend.

“Huh? What was that?” He starts walking toward you with the club handle outstretched toward you. “Think you can do any better?”

You gently bat the handle away from you when he gets close enough. “Why do you think I’m in the cart, J?”

He gives you a small smile, bends down to capture your lips in a quick kiss, and then strides away again.

“That’s what I thought.”

You narrow your eyes, then let out the most dramatic sigh you can muster.

“I’m just saying, J, if you’re gonna insist we go golfing, you better perform.”

He rolls his eyes at you, walking back toward the cart, and sits down next to you, pointing toward the direction of the ball.

“(Y/N), my love, will you please take me toward the ball so I may prove I’m worthy of you?”

You smack his knee but put the cart in motion anyway, speeding toward the ball as fast as the golf cart will carry you. You hit a couple of bumps on the way, satisfied when Jack grips his side handle and looks a little scared at your driving ability.

When you finally park next to the ball, he gets out, settles into his form, and swings away again, the ball going toward the correct direction.

“That was better,” you call out. “Not good, but better.”

He rolls his eyes again, and you throw him a wink, going to grab another shooter that you’d bought earlier. If he’s going to force you to watch him golf, you’re going to be a bit tipsy, and he’s going to have to take care of you later.

After your shot, you settle back into your regular system. You taunt him, he retaliates, you kiss and makeup, then the cycle begins again. It’s a good system; you genuinely love it, but when the sun starts to dip below the horizon, and you’ve run out of alcohol, you know it’s time to leave.

Jack must’ve sensed this, too, because he returns to the cart, places his club back into the bag, and sits down somewhat hard next to you.

“You may be slightly right. Today wasn’t my best showing.” He sighs. “But I’m on the rise.”

You laugh, grab his face, and pull it toward you, planting a giant kiss on his cheek, hoping to dull the pain of his inadequacy at golf.

After your kiss, you take that as your cue to finally escape this green hell, and you start driving toward the insanely nice country club main house to check back in your gold cart.

As you get closer to the building, you and back share a look. It’s decorated to the nines, and nicely dressed people are out and about, drinks in hand and mingling.

“It must be a wedding?” Jack questions, raising his eyebrow.

You hum in agreement and start making your way toward the drop-off point. You drop the cart, handing back the keys to the uninterested-looking teenage girl. You offer her your best smile and go to walk out before she calls after you.

“By the way, if you’re with the wedding party, the dance starts in half an hour.”

You move to say you’re not before Jack squeezes your hand and answers for you.

“Perfect timing then, thanks.”

You throw him a confused glance as you head through the door. A slight smirk is playing on his lips, and you don’t like the mischievous glint you see settling into his eyes. Once you clear the space, you head toward his Range, but before reaching for the door handle, he leans against the passenger seat, blocking you.

“How do you feel about crashing a wedding?”

You widen your eyes at the boy in front of you. Never in a million years would you expect him to say that.

“What?”

He shrugs his shoulders and points toward the trunk of a bag you have in there.

“I mean, it’s kinda fate. You still have that dress from Brunch, and I have an extra suit.”

You honestly think he’s joking, but his look is serious.

“What if we get caught? I would die.”

He shakes his head at your question, opening the back and pulling out your bag and the suit.

“We won’t,” he seems so sure of himself. “And if we do, we’ll handle it.”

He thrusts the bag toward you and opens the back door, gesturing you inside to change. You throw him one last questioning look but decide it’s much easier just to follow his lead.

It takes you a few minutes to change in his back seat, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and you highly doubt the last. Once you’re finished, you hop out and motion to the back of the dress so the zipper you couldn’t reach. Jack is quick to move your hair to the side and grab the zipper, pulling it up. Once he does, he gently kisses your shoulder and moves behind you to get dressed.

You stand watch as more and more people pour into the wedding. Your heart is thumping, and the nerves of what you’re about to do are getting to you. You feel slightly relieved when you see many couples your age walking in, but it also sets you even more on edge, knowing your age group will be a factor.

Almost in record time, Jack hops out of the vehicle and stands before you, spinning around and giving you a 360 view.

“How do I look?”

You smile at him. “Very handsome.”

He does, actually, for someone who just changed into a backup suit in the back of a Range Rover. He steps toward you, and you smooth down his lapels and straighten the tie to be perfect. Once you finish that, he helps you step into some heels you’d worn earlier, and once they’re on, you do a quick little spin for his approval.

“Look okay?”

He gently grabs one of your hands, pulling it to his mouth and kissing it softly.

“Beautiful as always.”

Once you’re both settled, you make your way to the doors and pray that you get in. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and Jack's hand gently rubs over your thumb to help your nerves. As you get close, another couple beats you to the door, and you both wait as they talk to the two women standing next to a greeting table out front. They say something you can’t hear, and the ladies offer a bright smile and ushers them inside. You’re up next, and as soon as the other couple steps through, Jack pulls you toward the table.

“Hello!” One lady says brightly. “Bride or groom?”

You weren’t expecting the question, and your face falls slightly, but your overconfident boyfriend doesn’t miss a beat.

“Both, actually.”

The ladies smile again brightly and hand over a little brochure.

“That’s both the bride and groom's signature cocktails and the dance should be starting soon.”

The one closest to the door gestures to you both inside, and Jack leads you in, gently squeezing your hand again.

The inside looks beautiful. Lights are strung everywhere, and the decorations are tasteful. You bask in the essence of it, and you genuinely love weddings. You see a couple of signs as you walk, and you catch sight of pictures of the happy couple.

“Kevin and Stacy. We should probably remember that.”

You snort at your boyfriend, but you do make a mentor note. It would be rather apparent of your wedding crashing if you didn’t know the names.

Jack leads you to the main ballroom, where everything is stunningly assembled. Most of the chairs have been cleared, and a dance floor in the middle waits for people to hit it.

You follow Jack to the table toward the side, which holds hundreds of pictures of the bride and groom throughout their life. You see that when they seemingly meet one another, it mirrors very similar to your relationship. You smile big as you see pictures of them doing almost everything together. They spent their summers boating their winters by a fireplace, and there is even a photo of Stacy hugging her man after a hockey game. You jab Jack in the ribs as you see it, noting that he’s donning a University of Michigan club hockey jersey. Once he sees the photo you’re looking at, he pulls you closer and laughs at the small connection to his family's favorite place.

Someone clears their throat behind you, and you freeze. You both turn slowly to see a woman standing there, two drinks in hand.

“You two look like you need a drink while staring at these photos.”

She hands you and Jack each a cocktail, and your heart starts beating faster.

“I’m not sure I know either of you.” She pauses, a puzzled look crossing her features. “But you also seem so familiar.”

You take a deep breath, ready to be caught, and accept your fate.

“I know Kev from hockey at Umich. Back when he played club.”

You want to die as your boyfriend lies through his teeth, but as soon as he speaks, the girl laughs.

“Oh my god, that makes sense. It’s nice to meet you..?” She pauses.

“Jack.” Jack extends his hand to hers, and then she turns to you.

“(Y/N).”

She shakes your hand as well. You’re thankful she gets called away moments later, and she sends you one last smile and walks toward the group of women who called her.

“That was close.” You breathe out, then turn to Jack. “Since when did you get good at lying?”

He chuckles a bit and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a middle child. I’ve always been good.”

He retakes your hand and leads you away from the picture table to look more around the venue. You kill as much time as possible, and finally, the dance begins to start.

You and Jack sit far away from the dance floor in the back of the crowd. Like everyone else, you both coo as you see the happy couple for the first time, having their first dance on the floor. You watch as they sway back and forth in their little world, ignoring everyone else and focusing on one another. It’s a sweet moment you’re witnessing, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“I feel terrible, J I think we should go. I wouldn’t want to ruin their night if they knew a few strangers were here.”

Jack listens intently to your plea, and he knows by the look on your face that you’re already on edge and staying here won’t help.

“Okay, let’s go. I have to run to the bathroom. Are you good here for a minute?”

You nod your head, and he gets up. You watch as he goes and then force yourself to stare at the floor, which is now crowded with many attendees from the wedding. You smile at the people dancing again and count down the seconds until Jack gets back.

As you sit there anxiously, Jack goes as fast as he can to the nearest bathroom. It’s nicely decorated as well, and it seems to be empty except for one another man. Jack keeps his head down, does his business, and tries to go as slow as possible. Nevertheless, the other man takes his sweet time, and Jack meets him at the sink area.

Jack offers a small, tight-lipped smile as he washes his hands, and so does the other dude. He goes back to drying his hands when he catches the other man doing a double take, and a brief look of realization crosses both of their features and a sudden pit forms in his stomach.

“Holy fuck,” The man says. “Are you Jack Hughes?”

Shit.

Jack swallows and then slowly nods his head and swallows hard. “Yep. That’s me. I assume you’re Kevin? The groom?”

Jack half expects the man to get pissed, and he prepares for the worst.

“What’re you doing here?” A crazy smile cracks across Kevin’s face.

Jack thinks he could lie, but at this point, there is no use. So, for the first time all night, he tells the truth.

“Honestly, me and my girlfriend saw your wedding while golfing, and I convinced her to come and crash it.”

Jack explains the situation quickly, but as he speaks, a look of disbelief flashes across Kevin’s face.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry. We’ll leave now, and I can pay you for the drinks and whatever else.”

Kevin suddenly busts out laughing, shaking his head.

“Why would you leave? The old people are finally going home, and the real parties are about to start.”

Jack's mouth drops open, and he can’t believe it.

“Are you sure we can stay?” He gapes.

Kevin nods his head and gently clasps him on the shoulder.

“You could crash my honeymoon night and I wouldn’t mind. I’m a huge fan, and this is the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Out of all the ways Jack ran through with what would happen if they got caught, this wasn’t one of them at all. They spend the next few minutes talking, and it feels like they’re old buddies.

“Just let me tell Stac, she’ll go nuts for you two.”

They leave the bathroom, and Jack makes a beeline to where you’re sitting. As he closes the furnace, he can see your worry etched across your face, and you look as though you want to die. When you finally see him coming, your eyes narrow a bit.

“Jesus, Jack, what took you so long.” You hiss.

He takes your hand. “You’re never gonna believe who I ran into.”

He quickly explains the bathroom story to you, and you’re hanging onto every word. Your mouth drops open as he finishes, and he sees the wave of relief practically roll over you.

“So now we’re invited?” You ask.

“We’re invited.”

You lean over him and throw your arms around his neck, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

“Who knew that being you would have so many weird perks.”

————————————————————————

Kevin wasn’t lying, and the minute the older folks left, the real party began. Drinks are flowing, and everyone in the wedding party is dancing their asses off. The mix being played is heavy on the 2000s hits and club music, and you’re loving every second. The minute you drag Jack to the dance floor, he knows his night is going to be wild.

Usher is bumping in the background as you settle your hips on Jack. You spend that way for half a song, and you love every second of feeling his arms wrapped around you. You’re genuinely on cloud nine, and nothing could be better now—only maybe one thing.

“I need some water.” You yell over the music.

Jack nods his head toward the bar. “You want me to grab you some?”

You shake your head no and pry his arms off of you. You quickly give him a peck and a swat to the ass as you walk toward the bar. You patiently place yourself in line when a tap on your shoulder takes you out of your daze.

“I take it you’re one-half of the wedding crashers?” You flush red and widen your eyes as you see the woman of the night.

Her evening dress is gorgeous, and her hair and makeup are perfect. You finally meet her stare dead on, and you think for a moment that she might be upset, but much to your surprise, she loops an arm through yours and pulls you close to her.

“I’m so happy you guys are here.” She whispers in your ear. “You made my husband’s life tonight. He’s told almost every guest that Jack Hughes came to his wedding. He’s never going to let this go.”

You giggle at the woman beside you, and soon enough, the line clears, and you’re at the front. You politely ask for water, and the bride behind you interrupts you.

“We will also have two shots.” She leans over your shoulder and shoots you a wicked smile.

As soon as the bartender delivers your drink. She grabs the two shots, hands you one, and loops your arm again to take a twisted shot together.

“Bottoms up.” She winks at you.

You toss the shot back, and the hard liquor burns down your throat. You laugh as a little bit slides down your face, and you wipe it away as Stacy suddenly drags you away, Introducing you to the wedding party.

Everyone is lovely, and you finally make it to the maid of honor, who you recognize immediately as the woman from earlier who gave you your first drinks. As soon as you properly introduce yourself, she throws your arms around you in a hug.

“You look like a killer on the dance floor; let’s go.”

Like that, you’re magically accepted into these strangers' lives, and you make your way to the dance floor with the rest of the bridesmaids and the bride herself.

More shots flow and terrible dance moves are danced. When you enter the floor with your new crew, you spot Jack in a circle with the groom. You mentally laugh at the humor of the situation, and you can’t help but love how the night has panned out.

Almost an hour later, you’re beyond drunk and still dancing with the bridal party. You’ve become fast friends, and by now, you’ve already promised to set two bridesmaids up with the single devil players you know.

It isn’t until the DJ gives everyone a little dance break with a slow song that you suddenly miss your boyfriend very much. He’s nowhere in your eyesight, but you nearly jump when someone grabs you into their arms and places a kiss on your neck.

“You look like you are having fun,” Jack whispers in your ear, pulling you in even closer.

You snuggle into his hold and find yourself melting. You love being in his arms; it’s your favorite place. Especially when you’re drunk, they feel like the safest place in the world.

With the slow song playing in the background, Jack turns you to face him. He’s got that smitten look on his face, but he doesn’t look as glazed as you thought he would.

“Have you been drinking?” You question, running your hands at the nape of his neck.

He shakes his head no. “Stopped a while ago. Someone has to drive us home, and I saw you take two shots with the bride thirty minutes ago.”

He chuckles and squeezes your sides, and you yelp away from him.

“You don’t have to stop,” you complain. “We can Uber.”

He smiles again, and a soft look crosses his face.

“Nah, I wanna be the one taking you home.” he cups your face in his hands and gives you a soft kiss.

The slow song continues, and you place your head on Jack's shoulder, savoring being there. You’re letting him lead, and he’s gently swaying with you on the floor. Many other couples surround you, but you couldn’t care less about anyone else in the room. If he’s near you, he’s the only person on the planet.

As soon as the song ends, he sits you down at the edge of the dance floor and goes to get you a glass of water. You sit at the table, drunkenly overlooking the crowd, and smile at the wedding around you. You love weddings, and you often think about yours. You don’t know how far out it will be, but you can’t care less as long as Jack is the one who asks. Though you’d never tell him, you’re ready whenever he is. You knew a year in that he was it for you, that he was your everything. But alas, you have school, and he has hockey, and you know he’ll pop the question when he’s ready.

At the same time you’re daydreaming, Jack is grabbing the water from the bartender and having one last talk with the groom, who also was getting water for his new wife.

“How long have you two been together,” Kevin asks Jack, nodding toward you at the table.

“Over two years,” Jack answers. “So a while.”

Kevin whistles at the answer, and a smirk plays on his lips.

“Yeah, a long while.” He nods toward you again. “Two years was when I popped the question. Knew I waited long enough, and she was the one.”

Jack snorts at the man beside him, and Kevin counters again.

“Is she the one?”

Jack watches you from across the way as you’re watching everyone else. He smiles as he sees you eyeing the various couples, flowers, and lights surrounding you. He genuinely believes you’ve never looked more beautiful underneath the dim light and the essence of love and joy radiating through the air.

“Yeah, she’s the one,” Jack says firmly, meaning every word.

“Then what’re you waiting for?”

The question is fair. You’ve talked about marriage, but it’s always been on the back burner behind your school and his hockey. You both have discussed how you’re both so young, and you have nothing but time to waste together.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m waiting for her. I don’t know if she’s ready.”

Kevin suddenly starts to laugh, almost uncontrollably, and Jack shoots him a confused look.

“Man, I’ve been watching how she looks at you all night. I don’t think I’ve seen any woman that ready.”

Jack eyes him. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jack and Kevin talk for another minute, saying their goodbyes and making promises to gold together soon when Jack makes his way back to your table. You are sitting sleepily and messing with the edges of the cloth table. When he gets close enough, he calls your name and hands you the water.

“You ready to call it a night?” He asks.

You nod your head, and he pulls you to your feet and takes you on your rounds to say your final goodbyes to the gracious couple who let you crash their wedding and all the new friends you’ve made in a singular, memorable night.

As you both leave the venue, Jack takes your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walk together. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin after the warmth of the crowded dance floor. You lean into Jack's side, feeling content and happy to have spent such an unexpected but enjoyable evening together.

As you approach the Range, Jack opens the door, gesturing for you to get in first. Once you're settled in the passenger seat, he closes the door gently before going to the driver's side. Before starting the engine, he turns to you, a soft smile on his lips.

“You know, deciding to crash that wedding with you was one of the best decisions I've ever made," he says, his eyes meeting yours with warmth and affection.

You let out your millionth laugh of the night, feeling a rush of love for this man beside you.

“I agree. Way better than golfing earlier.”

With a soft chuckle, Jack leans in to kiss your lips tenderly, the moment feeling incredibly intimate and memorable with the surrounding setting. As you pull away, you meet each other's gaze, and nothing but love is shown on both of your faces.

“Come on, let’s get your cute ass home,” Jack says softly, his hand finding yours again as he starts the car.

As Jack begins the drive home, you lean back in your seat, feeling the warmth of the evening still lingering in your heart. You glance over at Jack, his focused expression softened by the glow of the dashboard lights. Moments like these make you realize how lucky you are to have him by your side.

The drive is quiet but comfortable, and you can’t help but stare at him. You, indeed, are in love with this man.

As you approach home, Jack pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. The night air feels crisp against your skin as you step out of the car, Jack following closely behind, grabbing your things. Together, you make your way to the front door, the warmth of home beckoning you inside.

Once inside, Jack makes quick work of jumping into caretaker mode, and he takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, where he helps you remove your makeup with a tenderness that never fails to make your heart swell. He fetches everything you need for bed, your inevitable hangover, and anything else you request.

Finally, once you’re all settled, he tucks you into bed with gentle kisses and whispered words of affection. As you drift off to sleep, Jack lingers for a moment and watches how peaceful you are. With one final kiss on the forehead, he remembers Kevin’s earlier words.

Quietly slipping out of the room, Jack heads to the closet where most of his summer hockey gear sits. There, underneath many stacks of old hockey clothes where you’d never look, he retrieves the secret wedding ring that no one in the world knows about. He bought the ring after only six months of dating when he learned that you were it for him. That you were then and were always going to be his everything. He’s been holding onto the ring now for almost a year and a half, waiting for you.

Holding it in his hand, he turns it over and reflects on the depth of his love for you and the certainty that you're the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. In this quiet moment alone, Jack makes a silent promise to himself to ask you to marry him very soon. He doesn’t want to wait, and he wants to start forever as soon as he can.

He gently places the ring in its hiding spot and returns to the room. You’re still knocked out. He smiles as he sees you’re dead to the world, and he tucks himself next to you under the covers. He almost dies of adoration when, like a magnet, you fold yourself into his side. You fit perfectly there, and he’s half tempted to wake you up and pop the question now.

He doesn’t, though; instead, he pulls you impossibly closer and lets himself think about how he’s going to ask you to marry him, and then eventually, he lets himself fall asleep, dreaming of the life you're going to have together.

715 notes · View notes

lexabitxh · 2 months

Text

D.W | Feelings

summary: dean winchester confesses his feelings towards y/n.

perspective: third person

word count: 1811

Dean had fallen madly in love with Y/n ever since he laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, not like the girls in the magazines. She was beautiful for the way she thought, for the way she spoke, and her ability to help those around her.

No, she wasn’t just beautiful as something temporary as her looks, but beautiful deep down in her soul.

She was his reason for why he kept pushing in life. She made his darkest days cheerful and full of light. She had changed his life completely.

The way she looked at him with that smile made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It was an odd sensation, but comforting in ways that couldn’t allow him to sleep at night.

However, he wasn’t one to express his feelings. It wasn’t easy to admit he loved her, but he knew those feelings he felt were true. He wanted to tell her, but the fear of rejection held him back.

So, Dean keep things mutual between the both for as long as he could, but each day it became harder to not wonder what it would be like to date her. Especially when there would times where he’d flirt with her and she’d flirt back. Did she mean it or was she just playing along?

Sometimes he’d envy Sam for how close the two were. She’d always go to Sam rather than him for help or for anything in general. He tried not to hate Sam for it, but he just wished to be in his place. To be the one he she’d run to for comfort.

He wishes he could be the one that kept her awake at nights and in despair, to be her cry, to be the one who she woke up excited for. But that fear always held him back from confessing his feelings.

It wasn’t until he finally had enough.

Sam and Y/n had been on the couch watching movies for hours with half a bucket of popcorn between them, and the other half all over them. “Sam! Stop throwing the popcorn!” She laughed, trying to sound upset but couldn’t.

“C’mon, this is more fun than actually eating it” he said, throwing a handful at her. Before she could say anything, Dean had came back from his trip. She looked towards his direction, sending him a smile only to not receive one back.

“Hey, Dean. Is everything okay?” She questioned, looking up at him as Sam had turned the volume down. “Yeah… just been thinking a lot while I was out” he said as he looked between the two.

Sam immediately got the hint and got up. “I’ll go make us some more popcorn.”

Y/n watched as Sam grabbed the container and awkwardly walked away, leaving the two alone. Once he was gone, she patted the empty spot, inviting him to take a seat besides her.

“What’s in your mind?” She asked.

Dean walked from behind the couch and around, sitting next to her. Being so close to her made him nervous- he couldn’t function. He kept quiet for a bit, trying to find the words he had been rehearsing over and over and over again, but it’s as if the words he’s been memorizing had slipped away.

“I just wanted to, um, talk to you about something” he swallowed nervously. He was starting to become flustered. The palm of his hands becoming sweaty and his heart pounding out off his chest. Being around her made him act like a fool.

Suddenly, Y/n felt a nervous. She had no idea if she has done something to upset him. Having a one-on-one conversation always made her uneasy and uncomfortable. She felt like she was in trouble.

“What is it?” She asked concerned. Dean took in a deep breath, trying so hard to just put his feelings out there. Y/n took notice of his struggle and took ahold of his hand. “Dean, you can tell me anything. What’s going on?”

Dean glance down at her hand resting above his. Her hand much smaller as it felt soft and warm. He felt a tingly sensation form inside his chest as she made it much more difficult to act upon.

“It’s about you.”

“What about me?”

Y/n had a million different thoughts running through her mind. He probably noticed the scratch I left on baby… or the tiny stain in the backseat. She became anxious.

“Is it about, baby? Cause I swear it wasn’t me! It’s Sam’s fault!” she blurted out, throwing Sam under the bus rather than taking the blame.

“What? No!” He said, only to wonder what trouble they might have caused. “What about baby?” He questioned, but she simply shook her head. “Nothing. Forget about it. What were you going to tell me?” She asked, hoping that he’d forget all about the impala and move on.

Dean shook the thought away before refocusing on the main reason why he wanted to speak to her. “Right” he mumbled.

“Do you remember how we met?” He said smiling softly. Y/n smiled at the memory. “You were running from the police and I helped hid you from them” she laughed a little.

“We sorta became partners in crime ever since” she smiled. That smile. It was that smile that made Dean weak to his knees. “Like Bonnie & Clyde. Except we hunt monsters” he said with a light chuckle.

“Exactly” she laughed, “You were an absolute mess that day, and yet somehow, you convinced me to help you” she said. “And two years later, here I am with you idiots” she teased.

“I happens to be adorable. I’ll try not to take offense to it” he laughed softly before he getting all serious again. “Meeting you has been one of the best things that has happened to us” he said.

Y/n smiled as she felt the same away about them. They’ve gave her a purpose in life and adventures she never imagined before. “Awe, someone’s getting soft” she teased.

Dean shook his head, “just let me finish” he said. He took ahold of her hand this time and looked deeply into her eyes. “You changed my life, Y/n. You changed me. And for the past two years, I’ve been in love with you” he said, finally being able to put his feelings out into the air.

He felt relieved being able to admit his feelings. A weight lifted off his shoulders as he didn’t have to hide them anymore.

Y/n froze to the sudden news. She never would have imagined Dean Winchester to be in love with a girl like her. She loved Dean. She always has. But Dean slept with multiple girls and so she never envision herself having a real relationship with him.

“Y/n… say something.” Dean grew anxious with every second gone by. “I- for two years?” Y/n was still taken aback by the fact he loved her for two freaking years.

“It was the first time I saw you that I discovered what love at first sight was” he confessed. “You made me feel things I never felt before, things I never imagined feeling” he added.

“And seeing you with Sam made me jealous cause I want to be the one to hold you, to make you smile, to make you laugh…” he continued. “But I understand if you like Sam. I just wanted to let you know how I felt because I can’t carry this feeling inside me any longer.”

Y/n stared up at him in complete awe. The way he had let his guard down to confess his love for her. How his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. The way he became all shy and timid. She has never seen Dean act so… so in love.

“S-Sam? You think I have a thing for, Sam?!” She laughed. “D-do you not?” She shook her head, “no dumbass, I don’t like Sam in that particular way” she paused, “I like you.” She placed her hand on his cheek.

As she caressed it, he simply melted into her touch. “I’ve always liked you, Dean. The moment you stumbled into my life with trouble, I knew that the universe had written you for me.” Her words caused his heart to race, a smile forming on his lips.

“You’re the one who keeps me up at night. The one who makes me smile and giggle like crazy. You drive me crazy, Dean Winchester” she told him.

“I just- I never wanted to tell you because I knew you weren’t one to settle down with anyone. So, I kept my feelings hidden. Though it didn’t took long for Sam to notice and tease me about it.” She sighed.

“Sam knew?!” Dean said baffled at the thought why his brother never told him. Could have saved him all the trouble. Y/n nodded, “I sorta made him promise not to tell a living soul” she said giggled.

“So does this means what I think it means?” He asked. “Well, are you going to take me out on an official date?” She questioned as she gently pushed some of his hair back.

Dean smiled like an idiot. “You could ask me to swim across the ocean and I’ll do it just for you” he said while gently cupping her face.

“If a date makes you happy, then a date it is” he slowly leaned closer to her face. “I’d give you the world and more” he said as his lips hover above hers.

“Dean Winchester being so sweet? Who would’ve thought I’d be the reason” Y/n teased as she placed her lips on his, smiling in-between the shared kiss. Dean smiled back, kissing her softly and slowly. He had dreams of this moment and finally it was happening. It was magical and anything he never imagined before.

As they pulled away, they both stared at each other like complete idiot. “Finally!” said Sam as he entered the room. “About damn time. I was getting tired hearing you both yap about each other” he said as he took a seat on the singular couch.

“Now if you excuse me, I got a movie to finish” he said while throwing some popcorn towards them before taking a handful into his mouth. “Bitch” said Dean as he placed his arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

“Jerk.” Sam replied with a mouthful while turning the volume up and resuming to watch the movie.

Dean simple smiled to himself as he had everything he’s ever wanted in life. He had his brother by his side and the girl of his dreams wrapped around him. He couldn’t be happier than in that moment.

#sam and dean #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #the winchesters #gif #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #female reader #castiel x reader #castiel novak

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frostbitebakery · 5 months

Text

A Disturbed State Of The Natural Environment, Gods-Fucking-Dammit

A Pada-Wan Story

for @lttrsfrmlnrrgby

“Obi— Commander Kenobi-“

“You can call me Obi-Wan, Cody,” the kid huffs. “Neither you nor I will suddenly combust into a ball of fire if you do.”

You don’t know that, Cody thinks, not liking how his voice sounds in his mind.

Four days since the incident - or, “The Incident,” how Boil and Waxer like to say in unison with the bucket lights under their chins -, two since the 104th of all Battalions received their signal and towed the 212th fleet to the nearest station within the Republic that would allow them to overhaul the ships’ electronics.

It has been exactly two point five hours since Wolffe stopped wheezing at Cody over comms. Nearly as much time as the kid had vanished from under Cody’s paranoid nose.

“Councilor Kenobi is safe and sound,” General Koon had assured him while Wolffe stood at perfect parade rest a step behind, shriek-laughing his armor off.

The kid sighs. “You have come here for a reason?” he asks, stubborn and prim. “Or is Wooley babysitting me not enough?” He points a thumb over his shoulder to Wooley popping up several yards away, waving.

“If you haven’t noticed Hook, Line, and Sinker also keeping an eye on you, my trepidations are justified.”

The kid rolls his eyes, gesturing to three empty looking spots in the distance. “I am well aware Master Koon is in league with you.”

Cody will not explain safety precautions again. He’s saving that for when the kid really sets out to stomp on any and all walls Cody had to hastily and thoroughly built when his General, his partner, suddenly turned into a child at the worst possible development stage for Cody’s sanity.

The kid studies him while Cody is trying to come up with a legitimate reason for looking for him. Direct admittance to personal concern would backfire on Cody in multiple, entertaining ways, and he frankly doesn’t want to deal with that. From the kid being smug that Cody cares about him very much so keeping his distance must mean something more. To accusations of not trusting Obi-Wan (which, correct, Cody doesn’t know him after all), seeing him as a kid (also true) when he’s sixteen and basically a stone’s throw away from becoming a geezer.

Sixteen. Cody shudders. He remembers very well that half year when he was that developmental age. He shudders again. Gods, the mood swings alone.

“I am reasonably paranoid about your welfare,” he says at last. Wooden which makes him cringe but he’s never lied to Obi-Wan and he’s not starting now.

The kid stares at him for a while. One corner of his mouth quirks up with a shrug and a shuttered look in his eyes Cody desperately wants to make better. “It’s different when they really are out to get you, isn’t it.” The Council had explained how precarious his older self’s safety was at the best of times. Cody had only seen the aftermath and the accompanying ranting about life choices with the occasional visibly happy understanding that Obi-Wan could, actually, grow a non-patchy beard when he’s got a few more years on him.

“May I sit with you?” Cody asks. Shoveling his own metaphorical grave is so much easier with mixed signals after all. But he misses the older Obi-Wan. It’s not fair of him but he needs this.

The expected blush blooms on freckled cheeks. “Yes, of course!” is the eager reply, followed by more blushing.

It’s endearingly cute and Cody would like to chew on his bucket now.

The kid scoots over, wide eyed and expectant.

Gingerly, Cody lowers himself, ignoring the armor digging into his ass and thighs. And lets the silence stretch.

This, really, is what he came here for. A self-indulgent little break to catch his breath. The High General of a Systems Army is compromised and that fact has to remain eyes only to an exclusive handful of people. Only the Jedi Council knows out of obvious necessity. So it’s up to Cody to keep everything else running, keeping the admiralty in the dark because even teenaged Obi-Wan had said he’s got a bad feeling if they were to tell the brass. So they haven’t.

Usually, when flimsiwork and war horrors keep stacking up and expand into an avalanche, Obi-Wan and Cody sit together in silence, sharing a precious cup of real tea, being together and lending support and strength they can’t find for themselves but can always, always find for each other.

Selfishly he wants that strength from Obi-Wan now, the warmth of his body nearby. He’s already breathing easier.

The kid is looking at him curiously, but Cody chooses not to say anything. Instead he turns forward once more, watching the busy night markets of the station and the stars behind it. After a moment the kid does the same.

Shoulders slowly relax and the silence becomes comfortable.

#obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan #star wars #star wars fanart #frostbitebakery art #padawan obi wan #what are you going to do when Jedi robes are too big #you go to a storage closet and cry #poor cody #ahhh it’s been so long since I promised to draw this!#de aged!obi wan

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astridthevalkyrie · 10 months

Text

tw: dubcon, noncon, bully!gojo, afab reader w/ she/her pronouns

Gojo's a sick fuck.

He corners you on campus in the strangest places, taking advantage of the fact that he's been here a year longer than you. Sometimes Getou or Ieiri are with him, but most of the time he's alone, and when he's alone he's even worse than when he's just putting on a show for his dickhead friends. They only get to bear witness to him teasing you from afar, just his general idiocy and inborn cruelty. When he's by himself, though, nothing stops him from trying to corner you literally, one hand on the wall next to your head and the other finding some excuse to touch you, either running a finger down your cheek or brushing some invisible dust from your shoulder.

And you've had enough. You just want to find a place to sit down and study or read or eat or literally anything else as long as you don't have to worry about the only guy who tormented you all throughout school continuing the cycle in university where you were supposed to be free from this, this cocky, stupid, bitch.

You're in the library today, but his approach is the same as it is in any other location. Your physics lab, outside a professor's office, the community pool, for Christ's sake. First, he makes his presence known, making you aware that he's being his usual creepy self. This time, he's leaning against the wall when you turn the corner behind one of the shelves. There's a book in his hands that has so many dog ears you think he reads one page then saves the literal next one for the following day.

He doesn't look up, not right away. Not until he feels you glare burning his skin for a good few seconds. It's when you assume the burn actually becomes painful that he looks up, feigning a surprised smirk as his icy blues practically gleam. "Fancy seeing you here," he purrs, book staying open in his hands.

"Go to hell, Satoru." There's no point engaging further with him. The only option you have is to get the hell out before he gets to touch you. If he touches you, it's all over. You turn on your heel and throw a quick thank you prayer out that you don't immediately bump into Getou, who would act as the other mousecatcher whenever Gojo decided he wanted to play.

Behind you, you hear him put the book down and your legs move faster without you even thinking about it. You don't even know how he always tracks you down. Maybe he installed some app on your phone without you realizing. You'll get a new one. Anything to just get rid of him.

Even though you've been on campus for at least a month now, virtually every building is still wholly unexplored, mostly because you're constantly trying to avoid these exact types of situations. The amount of times you could have stayed on campus but instead scurried home is already close to the triple digits. And for what? You've only avoided Gojo a handful of times and left yourself unprepared for a hasty escape too.

There's footsteps somewhere, and now that your heart is racing you can't calm down enough to pinpoint where they're coming from. It's a Friday night and not even close to midterm week, so there's a few regulars here, but not nearly enough people that someone will see you. Not that Gojo minds, you've seen him look someone dead in the eye and then squeeze your hip impatiently, as though to tell them do you mind? You don't know where he gets his confidence, but whatever it is, it's well earned. Everyone gives in to him, eventually. Even you.

You turn out of yet another aisle, and then your legs falter.

"Hey, sweetness," he grins at you. Your back hits the wood behind you and your bag thumps to the floor. On days where he wants to really torture you, Gojo acts like a charmer, kissing the back of your hand or carrying your bag over his shoulder, preening in the direction of anyone who calls him a good boyfriend, singing a sinister thanks knowing damn well he isn't your anything.

This isn't one of those days. You can tell.

Gojo doesn't want to be your boyfriend anymore than you want to be his girlfriend. He likes his lifestyle, and an average stick in the mud like you would definitely ruin the perfect image. But that doesn't mean he wants you out of his life completely. When he'd learned you'd be going to the same university as him, he'd sent you the only text message he'd ever sent you, a filthy picture captioned with a sweet and simple can't wait to have you.

And have you he will, whenever he wants. He's pretty open about that. "Are you in a rush?" His blues blink innocently. You're not sure why he keeps up the act even when no one is around, it only serves to set your nerves further askew.

"Leave..." Before you can even formulate the thought of a process, his hands are on your hips, pinky finger slipping under your sweater inconspicuously. "Leave me alone, Satoru."

"Nah," he breathes, "you look real pretty today, sweetheart."

While he doesn't make a move to take your sweater off, he does bury his face in your shoulder and inhale the scent. Then he slowly switches from the sweater to your actual skin, tucking down the fabric of the turtleneck to expose your neck, which you'd taken pains and suffered the heat to hide. Gojo moans a little at just the last remaining bruise he sees on you.

"Love when you don't try to cover it up," he murmurs, "don't need you treating me like a dirty secret."

As if you could keep him a secret. No one aside from your professors even tries speaking to you, and you have no doubts as to why. "I do try—I did cover it up."

"This doesn't count." Instead of just kissing you, because he's a bitch, Gojo kisses the inside of your turtleneck, his hair tickling your nose. "I meant makeup and crap. This? S'like unwrapping a present, baby."

"Satoru," you choke. It isn't just how he touches you, it's everything. The proximity, the casual way he says the most scummy things you've heard in your life and says them like they're just simple facts.

"Normally, I'd tell someone to stop playing so hard to get after so many times. But you're special, y'know." Two fingers push your lower lip down and slide in slowly, running over your gums before violating your mouth further. "This bitchy attitude only makes me wanna have you more." He waits, waits for you to gag, to choke on his fingers and look up at him with watery, pleading eyes before he removes his fingers and slots his lips over yours.

When Gojo kisses you, it's not demanding so much as needy. For someone who already has an ego that's sky high, he still seems to want you to stroke it, and nothing strokes his ego more than the noises you make unwillingly. Every little gasp, whimper, sharp breath, he swallows possessively, as he drags his nails gently along your lower back, making you squirm closer to his mouth to get away.

He plays you like you're his favorite instrument. And he knows exactly which strings to pluck.

His tongue nips at your teeth playfully, and that's when you pull away, summoning up whatever remaining courage you have. "Someone's going to come down this way," you beg, because the only thing you haven't experienced yet is being fucked with an audience, and you're not eager to change that. "Please, Sato—"

"It's okay." The fingers that were just in your mouth a few seconds ago now slide down your waist and under your jeans, nudging them down. "Don't need any foreplay. Been hard since you walked into the library, sweetness. And I bet you've just been dripping playing tag with me. I promise one of these days you'll get to be it," he mocks, as his other hand undoes his belt.

Tears spring to your eyes, but Gojo kisses them off your eyebags before they can fall too far. "You're so tired," his voice coos, "m'gonna make it all better. I'll make you feel so good."

His hand twists into your hair, yanking it back in a single motion that must be gentle for him, but it's rough for you. It's the sting in your scalp that you focus on as he takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, making you jerk him off in preparation. It's the one thing he always demands, claiming he can't get off unless he gets to feel your touch first. Bullshit.

Once he's satisfied, Gojo moves your hand away, intertwining your fingers and placing them on the shelf next to your head as he guides his dick to your leaking pussy, sliding the first inch in with a hiss.

Praise drips from him easily like this, when he has you between him and any hard surface. The individual shelves hurt your back, but less so when he slides an arm around you, pulling you closer as he pushes in with one lazy thrust.

"Ah!" your cry catches in your throat, but he bites you, groaning with your lip caught between his teeth. He pulls out and thrusts again, and your tear slips down to your mouth this time, where he licks it off.

"God," he compliments, developing a pace that's fast but not fast enough, not fast enough to ensure you won't get caught or to make you cum, "so fuckin' glad I don't let anyone else fuck you. This cunt's only for me, yeah? Belongs to me?" When you don't answer, too focused on the feeling of him filling you, leaving you empty, and then filling you again, he speeds up. To Gojo, the more you struggle to give him what he wants, the more fair it is to make it harder.

The shelf shakes as he loves you against it, it won't fall but you fantasize about him being crushed under it anyways. Then you think about being buried under with him, completely in his clutches with no telling when you'd be able to get out, and you clench around him, eyes rolling back.

"You think there's cameras in here?" he pants, digging his nails into your skin again. The pads of his fingers press roughly under your shirt, sure to leave even more bruises for him to lavish with his tongue later, whenever he pleases. "Think someone'll see you getting railed and jack off to it? I know I would, baby. If I only got you on camera I'd be fuckin' my hand and coming on your face every night. Lucky me," he gasps, and you feel him swell inside you, "that I got the real thing all to myself."

You hate how much his voice and his words affect you, how much each filthy thought of his makes your pussy practically gush for him as one of your own fingers rubs over your clit frantically. Each squelching sound makes him more feral, till he's rattling you against the shelf, every thrust of his hips growing more frantic and more desperate.

"I'm almost there, sweetness." Gojo reaches up and squishes your cheeks together, blues blown out as he kisses your puckered lips one more time. "Answer my question, baby. Tell me whose cunt this is so I can blow my load in it. C'mon, fuck, tell me."

You let out a sob that hiccups into a moan, force out, "Yours," and cum.

Gojo whines, thrusting one, two, three more times before he's coming too, filling you up with each jerk of his hips. His head falls onto your shoulder, panting on your neck. Your turtleneck is entirely too warm now, and useless to boot. Cum drips from your pussy; Gojo slides two fingers against your hole as he pulls out, sticking them in your mouth, just at your tongue this time. You taste him and yourself, and even though he's not forcing them in further this time, you still feel like gagging.

He takes them out, then places them in his own mouth, sucking them off and groaning at the taste.

As he tucks himself back in his pants, he runs a hand through his hair, setting it back into place before dropping a kiss to your cheek. Your tears have dried now, and you're trying to ignore his cum leaking onto your panties as you pull your jeans up. You don't even want to think about how you look, or about how you'll bring yourself to another orgasm tonight thinking of this, albeit not one as good.

Patting your hip, Gojo flashes you his best grin. "See you next time, sweetness. Maybe tomorrow?" Without waiting for your reaction, he strolls off, a single hand raised in goodbye.

Wiping at your cheeks and taking out your phone, you release an angry sniff, penciling it in.

#i have never ever written for gojo idk how this happened a charlie puth song really put me in a mood #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #valkyrie stories

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seijorhi · 4 months

Text

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more.

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend.

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you.

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah.

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass.

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good.

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.”

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine.

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess.

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit.

Sweetheart’s a rare one.

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out.

Fuck.

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door.

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead.

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone.

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely.

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault.

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you.

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him.

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him.

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice.

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours.

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything.

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this.

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe.

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain.

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming.

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out.

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs.

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely.

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense.

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place.

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder.

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there.

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #oc: kuroo shinnosuke #tw: noncon

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