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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

We bleed together

a/n you want pain!? I'll give you pain. The person who requested this is responsible for the damage.

summary: what if the last day of humanity was different? What if instead of loosing Sarah, Joel lost you - the mother of his two children and the person who had built him up to a better man.

warnings: car crash, blood, injuries, wounds, death ahh I would say medium emotional damage

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"And then one more", you spun around, making the baby giggle in your hands, "And one more", you twirled around, smiling to yourself as yet another giggle filled the still-empty kitchen. Emma was one giddy baby. For a five-month-old, she was extremely alert, her curiosity driving her to look around as much as she could. If only her body was strong enough, she would be crawling around day and night. Following Sarah around or any of you for that instant. Sarah barely left her side. You were worried at first about her reaction. Sure, you had been there almost from the start, helping Joel take care of her, and she was like your own daughter, but still. You had plenty of conversations about her biological mother. You understood her desire to know. To ask questions. To understand.

"She didn't want me, right? I was the problem", you were halfway through your pregnancy when this conversation surfaced again. Putting down the baby sweater that you were just folding, you motioned for Sarah to come in. She had become more avoidant once you started showing. The reality started to kick in, and it pained her that the baby was going to have a real and normal family.

"You were never the problem, my beam of light", you cupped her face lovingly, whipping away some of the tears that had started rolling down Sarah's cheeks. "But… she didn't love me like you love your baby", "Oh, Sarah", you pulled her closer to your chest, "I've loved you from the moment I saw you kicking around in that makeshift crib your dad had going on". Running your hand through Sarah's curls, you made her turn to you. "You've been my special girl since then. I love you and the baby the same. There are no differences to me between you two. Sure, you and I don't share DNA, but, like, who cares about that?", she shrugged her shoulders. Biting her lip as she tried to stop the tears. "You promise you won't leave?", Sarah crocked out, big brown eyes searching yours. It broke your heart so much, but you understood her. Her fear of losing a mother figure. Her dad needing to go through this alone again. You took both of her hands in yours, squeezing them, "I would never dream of it; you are my world".

Joel couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, especially once the baby caught sight of her father in the archway, kicking her little legs happily. The sudden burst of excitement made you turn your head to the side, "Ah, so dad is the one you get all happy for, huh", You nuzzled your face into Emma's neck, leaving endless amounts of kisses there and making her squeal happily. "She's a daddy's girl, aren't you?", Joel walked closer to you, hand reaching instantly for the smallest Miller. Emma's babbles filled the kitchen as she told her dad all the stories she could. "Honestly, rude. When both of our kids are like that", "Maybe I'm just more awesome", you let out a fake gasp, your hand coming up your chest. Joel smirked before giggling to himself. "No, sir, soon you'll be going to work without birthday sandwiches", you warned him, and Joel instantly lifted his free hand in the air defensively.

It felt surreal this morning for some reason. Joel had laid in bed awake for some time just thinking. Thinking about Sarah's mother. Thinking about you. About how his life had shifted once you stepped in. How much he valued the love you gave Sarah. How much he valued you going through a tough pregnancy to bring another baby girl into this world. Joel wondered if you knew. Knew how much he loved you. It wasn't just love. It was his whole existence. You were his rock, as he was yours. But he knew, Joel was convinced, that it was all thanks to you that he found purpose in life again.

"We can't have mommy mad", Joel mumbled to Emma, ticking her stomach. He moved closer to you while you were cutting up the vegetables. Leaning in to press a kiss on your shoulder, then another. Before a whole line of kisses was drawn from your shoulder up to your temple. You giggled, loving the slight tickle of Joel's beard against your skin. "I love you so much", Joel muttered, bringing you closer to his chest as his hand sneaked around your waist. You leaned back into him smiling, "Not as much as I love you, birthday boy", you cupped his cheeks, moving into Joel's embrace so you could place your lips on his. "The best mama ever", he muttered in between kisses, "And best wife to be", those words made your heart flutter a little. God, you loved this man, and you couldn't wait to be a Miller soon. You deepened the kiss just a little.

"Seriously? In front of a baby?", Sarah's voice made you two tear apart quickly. "You're officially out of the age to say ew when your parents kiss", Joel chirped, turning to his older daughter, who was rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but Em isn't, so don't be disgusting, right Em?", Sarah reached for her sister, whom Joel had carefully placed in her little high chair. Her little fist tightened and wrapped around Sarah's finger. You place the plates with food on the table.

"Tommy?", you ask, but Joel shrugged his shoulders. "Probably left early," strange, you thought to yourself as you slipped into the chair next to everyone. "So, how old are you again?", Sarah asked, mouth full of food. "Thirty-six", the girl shook her head, making you giggle. "Hate to break it to you, dad, but dippers are in the near future", she teased, but Joel only hummed, "Who said I ain't wearing one now?". Sarah let out a laugh, which Emma mimicked, making you smile. "Well, at least now I know why Em's diapers are disappearing", you said ž, making them both let out a laugh.

You wished you could freeze moments like this. Where you all were laughing. Where nothing bothered you all. "Don't forget to get the cake on your way back", you reminded Joel, who instantly hummed, "I will don't worry", he muttered, and Sarah sent him a warning look that he returned by leaning across the table to cup her cheeks and placing kisses all over her face. She squirmed in her dad's hands until she couldn't contain the laughter anymore.

Joel came back to a dark house. He wasn't expecting anything else, considering that he was three hours late coming back. He knew you would forget him for skipping his birthday dinner. It was Sarah, whom he knew must be upset. And letting her down was his biggest fear in life. Joel tried to move past the hallway as quietly as possible, stopping only when he noticed a light coming from the living room. Sarah was fast asleep with her head laying on your lap, your eyes were tired as you held Emma close to your chest. The light sounds of her suckling and the television playing were the only noise in the room. Joel couldn't help but smile slightly. He will never be able to get tired of a sight like this.

"Am I in deep shit?", you blinked a couple of times, shaking your head, "You can't even imagine Miller". Joel sat down next to you, lips instantly moving to kiss the side of your head, hand reaching to support Emma, who was happily eating, her tiny hand holding onto the pendant necklace that Joel had gotten you. It had four gold-plated letters. All the first letters of your little family's names.

"Don't overthink it. She'll understand eventually. Sarah wants your presence more than that cake anyway,", you reassured him, already feeling him slip into his mind. You knew Joel best. You knew how much he cared. The family was always first, and his working hours were so hectic just because he wanted to give you all the best. "I know. I will… I'll squeeze in a free day, and we can all just have a day to ourselves", Joel muttered, and you leaned closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Have I told you lately that you are the love of my life?", he asked all of a sudden, making you look back up at him. "Well, I would freaking hope to be", you teased him, moving to nuzzle closer to him once more. Joel let out a light chuckle, "But you have; you always remind me of that. Because you are the best fiancé and father ever", you muttered sleepily. Joel's warmth dangerously lulled you into a slumber.

The sound of what appeared to be a military helicopter flying over the house woke you up. You frowned, reaching over for Joel only to find his side of the bed empty. You quickly sat up, looking at the bassinet that stood by the side of your bed. Breathing out a sigh of relief when you saw Emma fast asleep there. Lights from outside were illuminating the room. It seemed like the search troops were out. What the heck was happening? The sight of a paper note caught your attention next. You picked it up quickly. It was Joel's handwriting on it: "Needed to go bail Tommy out. I'll be back as soon as I can. Love you, J.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you grab a book off your bedside table. Something was wrong, and you could just feel it. You could feel it deep in your gut. "Mom, dad", Sarah's voice filled your ears, right before another helicopter flew by. "Cone here, darling", Sarah threw the door open, rushing to you as she jumped onto the bed. "What's going on?", she asked, as your eyes fell over the window. "I don't know,", you muttered, "But daddy will be home soon, and we'll figure it out, okay?", You cupped her cheek tenderly, giving Sarah a light smile. You stood up and opened the wardrobe, pulling out a wrap-around carrier. Quickly draping it over your body, you leaned to pick up the smallest addition to the family, tucking her close to your chest. Now more than thankful that she was a deep sleeper, a gift from Joel.

"Come on, let's see if there's something on TV,", you said, reaching for Sarah's hand. The commotion outside only made the anxiety more and more intense. "Where is dad?", Sarah asked as you walked down the stairs. "He went to get your uncle". It wasn't the first time, so Sarah didn't ask any more questions. She knew it meant that Tommy had once again gotten into trouble. Something that made her dad rather frustrated most of the time.

All the channels were turned off, the only thing on TV was a warning. "Indoors, law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions", your hand was still holding onto Sarah when the sound of something hitting the window made you both jump. The barking filled your ears next, and you let out a shaky breath. Sarah instantly rushed towards the doors. "No, get back here", you called after the girl, but she was already opening the door, sinking to her knees as she petted the dog. "Easy, easy, Mercy. What are you doing out here, boy?", Sarah looked around the street, the chilly nighttime air hitting her cheeks. She moves to step closer to the street, but you were quick to hold onto her arm. "Get back inside," you said, "But what if ms. Adler…", she tried to argue, but your grip on her hand only tightened.

"I said inside", you tugged at her hand right as another person or whatever that was stumbled into the street. It twitched awkwardly before starting to dart in your direction. You moved Sarah behind you. "Go, go, go", you shouted before, pushing her into the house, closing the door behind you. Pressing all of your body weight against the door. Eyes closed as your body started to shake. Where was Joel? Where was he? The baby lets out a whine. Your hand instantly moved to rub up and down her tiny back, hoping to soothe her into sleep.

"Mom", Sarah calls out. You lifted your eyes to see her teary ones, instantly reaching for her, "Come here baby. We're okay", "What was that?". You pressed her to your side, kissing her head a couple of times. You wished you could answer, but you couldn't. "I don't know, baby, I don't know", you nudged her closer to yourself. Banging on the doors got louder, and a part of you was telling you to move to somewhere safer to at least get the girls safe. But you couldn't move. So crippled by anxiety. You just sat there with silent tears falling down your cheeks. Then a shot rang out, making you flinch. And then there was silence.

"Y/N", you let out a cry at Joel's voice that filled your ears from the other side of the door. Sarah was the one to stand up fist, quickly reaching for the handle, giving you just enough time to move slightly as she yanked the doors open. Joel stepped in, his hands reaching for Sarah instantly as he looked her over for any sign of injuries, "You're not hurt, baby girl?", he asked her. Sarah shook her head. "Dad, what's going on?", but Joel said nothing as his eyes fell on you. Crying on the floor, hands wrapped around your baby. He crossed the distance between you in a couple of steps. Kneeling beside you, "Joel…", you cried out, and he instantly brought your body closer to his, weary of the baby between you but making sure you could physically feel that he was there, "I've got you dove, come on, we need to move now".

Joel's arm moved to steady you from behind as he helped you up. Tommy was by Sarah's side, gun in hand, as he walked her towards the car. You barely made it down the front porch stairs as someone ran out of the Adler's house. You all froze in place, and Tommy hiked up the gun. "Get in the truck now", Joel roared, briefly turning to you and Sarah. But there was little time to think as the woman's body twitched and, with an unhuman-like growl, she started crawling towards you.

"What are we doing, Joel?", Tommy's voice rang out, but Joel didn't answer. With the tool in his hand, he swung his arm. He hit the old lady straight on the head, and her body fell to the ground. It was a split-second decision. A decision that had both you and Sarah staring at Joel because you had never… Never seen him this way. Never seen so much anger. Never seen this kind of violence. You didn't even know that Joel was capable of that.

"You killed her", Sarah whispered, pulling you out of your trance. Joel stepped to her, cupping her cheek, "Baby, I'm sorry", wrapping his arms around her, embracing her. "Joel, we need to move", Tommy said in a worried tone, now moving to grab your hands as he walked you toward the car. "You're okay?", he asked you as he opened the door, making sure you didn't hit your head. His hand lingered on his niece's back, her big brown eyes now staring at him. You nodded your head. What else were you supposed to do? "We'll get out of here", Tommy said firmly, rubbing his thumb on Emma's cheek. You turned to Joel and Sarah; he was still holding onto her. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

"Listen to me, it's not just the Adlers, but we need to be brave; we will get out of this together", Joel said to her before opening the door for her. An explosion rocked the street meters away from you. Both Miller brothers were quick to shield you, baby, and Sarah. Emma's cries echoed through the empty street now. You met Joel's eyes briefly. Eyes that were also scared. Worried eyes. "Let's go, guys, we need to go", Tommy jumped in the driver's seat before starting the car.

Sarah was silently crying beside you. Crying alongside Emma. You tried to soothe both of their fears, but with your anxiety being so high, you knew that you could try to hide it all you wanted - they could still feel it. The frantic driving and Joel's shouting at Tommy didn't help much. You pressed Sarah closer to you, her arm falling over Emma's body. You started to hum one of the lullabies. The lullaby that had followed Sarah through her childhood. The one even she sometimes hummed to her little sister if she took over the nap duties. "And in the darkest of nights, the stars shine bright above us. Sleep tight, little one; let the light calm you", you hummed softly. Rocking both of them in your embrace.

The world was falling apart. Houses were on fire. There was so much screaming. "What if it's everywhere?", Sarah muttered, looking up at you. "We'll find a safe place. Remember what your dad told you? We need to be just a tiny bit braver tonight", you said, meeting Tommy's gaze right as he looked up. A plane flew over the car. "The fuck", the younger Miller cursed while watching the ship sway in the sky. "Keep going", Joel encouraged his brother. His arms slipped toward the back. Joel's fingers were running up and down your calve. His way of grounding himself, of making sure that you knew he was there. That he still had this under control. That he was going to get you all out of here.

The chaos was like nothing you had seen before. The screams. The cries. People were running in front of cars. Hitting the sides as they fell. The streets were full. It all felt like a blur and the worst nightmare all at once. Sarah's grip on your hand was deadly. Your fingers had found Joel's hand as you leaned forward. Tommy started to move out of the street. You felt a tug on your hand. Sarah's eyes were gazing through the back window. "Dad" she whispered, "Dad!", this time the word came out more firm and loud. You only managed to see another airplane flying right at you. Then came the crash. The sound of static. Everything moved at lightning speed. You caved into yourself. Hoping to provide as much shelter for the infant with my body, and then everything went black for a moment.

Joel had never been more scared than the moment he crawled out of the car that was now lying on its roof and found your unconscious body covered in bits of glass and blood. Emma's cries soothed him almost; at least he knew she was alive. Sarah moved as well, and Joel let out a somewhat relieved breath. "Babe", Joel touched your leg, but you didn't move. He inched closer, dragging you out of the car by your shoulders. The moment Joel tugged on your hand, your eyes snapped open with a cry.

"Hey, I've got you", he tried to sound calm, but the sight of the blood trickling down the side of your face made him want to tear the whole world apart. Joel pulled Sarah out of the car as well before turning his attention to you. "Does something hurt?", "My shoulder, I think I…", you hissed when Joel's finger came in contact with your skin. "Give me, Em. Sarah, can you walk, baby?", Joel was loosening the carrier from around your body as he gazed at his firstborn. The girl nodded, and you ripped the side of the carry. Crawling toward Sarah and reaching for her ankle. "I'll wrap it tight, okay; it might feel uncomfortable, but you'll be able to move for now", "Mom, your head", she mumbled, fingers reaching for the blood, but you stopped her quickly. "It's nothing, darling. You focus on staying close to us, okay?"

Tommy came up from the other side, glancing over his shoulder. "The military trucks are here; you need to move; go towards the river; I'll meet you there", Tommy said, Joel rocked Emma in his arms as she screamed her little lungs out. She, too, felt the threat without the warmth of your skin. Tommy shrugged off his jacket, draping it over Joel, before helping you stand. "I'll see y'all there", he ushered you to move. "You stay safe", you said to him, and he only nodded. Regardless of his stumbles in life, Tommy was a good man. A loving brother-in-law. Someone whom you cherished. Cherished so deeply. But you couldn't let your sentiments get the better of you now. You needed to get your babies out of this mess. Get them somewhere safe. So you grabbed Sarah's hand, and so did Joel, and you all ran.

The river bank was practically a hand's reach away. Sarah was limping badly. You knew her leg was going to give up at any moment. You pulled her closer to you so she could lean more of her weight on you. Ignoring the pain that shot through your shoulder. Whispering words of encouragement to her. "Stop right there", a male's voice called out. Joel brought you all to a halt as the light from a gun darted onto your body. "We are not infected. My family got into a car crash", yet you could tell that the soldier didn't care about it whatsoever as he inched closer. "I have four civilians by the river. The female is covered in blood, girl limping", he said coldly into the radio, gun still pointed your way. "Please, we", "Shut up", the male roared, and you instantly pushed Sarah behind you. "Joel…", your hand held onto his forearm, but your eyes didn't leave the person in front of you. Something in your gut twisted. A sense of dread almost pulled you down.

"If something happens", "Y/N, don't…", you yanked at Joel's arm, firmly gaping at him. "You fucking take them and run", you muttered through gritted teeth. "Hey, no one told you to move", the soldier shouted, and you moved to face him again. The sound of your breathing was the only sound you could hear as your hand came up over Joel's hip, and you moved forward. The gunfire pierced the air. The echo was almost unbearable. Freezing. Static. Joel must have dragged you to the side after the first shot rang out, making you all tumble down the hill.

All Joel could hear was Em crying and a couple more shots ringing out. He needed to think quickly. He needed to come up with a plan. "Mommy", Sarah's shaky breath followed by a scream, was what got Joel to look up. And he wished he hadn't. He wished this was a dream. Maybe it was? His worst nightmare? What if he pinched himself? Make it all disappear. Make it all stop. "Joel", Tommy called out, reaching for the crying baby, and the moment the girl was out of his hands, Joel was moving towards you, falling over himself but moving to you.

"Hey, hey, love", he muttered. You had two gunshot wounds on both sides. The blood had already soaked your clothes. Sarah's had her hands pressed against your skin as she shook. "Listen to me, Y/N; I'll get you out; I'll make it", but you moved your hand up, gripping his arm. Lips pressed together as you tried to keep yourself from screaming in pain. You had to. For your girls.

Your eyes fell on Em in Tommy's arms; her bright pink cheeks were visible in the night. Your little angel baby. Your girl that you will never get to see grow up. She might not even remember you. You were going to be a distant memory. Just how Sarah's mom was to her. Sarah looked at the blood seeping through your skin. You reached for her, making her eyes snap at your face.

You pulled the last bits of your strength so you would smile at her, "I love you, sun-shine", you breathed out, and burning pain shot through your body, making you close your eyes. "Mommy, please. I… don't… please", she said, moving to wrap her hands around your neck. You breathed in her flowery scent, feeling your eyes burn with tears. Knowing very well that this was the last time you were going to feel her touch and smell her, "Let… mommy and daddy have a moment", you pleaded. Feeling your body starting to crash already. You didn't want her to see you fade away. No. The blood. Everything from tonight was already too much. She shook her head, but Joel grabbed her hands and moved them away from your blood, saying, "Go to Tommy, baby girl".

Joel, however, moved back to pressing down on your wounds for dear life. Even if he could tell, it was hopeless. He couldn't. He couldn't and was not about to let go. "Joel..", you cried out, and he instantly moved your body closer to his. Pulling you against his chest, "Don't go; don't die; you can't die", he croaked out, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "Hold me", you whispered, feeling the metallic taste in your mouth getting stronger, "I'm here, love. I've got you", Joel pulled you even closer to him, savoring the last bits of your warmth. He hoped it would have been him dying here. It should have been because you three would have been fine with Tommy. But with you gone… What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to live?

"I lo-ve…", "I love you too; I love you so much", your grip on his arm started to loosen as your body shook. Joel got to meet your eyes one more time. He got to capture the depth and warmth of them that he knew he wanted to remember for the rest of his miserable life. "It's okay, it's okay", more blood poured from your mouth. Your big, worried eyes eased. Joel's rocking stayed the same. As if he were swaying you to sleep. As if you two were back home, back in your bedroom, and you had just had a bad dream. A bad dream that Joel was desperate to chase away. "I will always love you. There will never be anyone to replace you. My heart is yours; I'm bleeding with you, dove", he said through the tears.

Then you took a breath in. A surprisingly smooth breath in. Joel looked down at your face. And with a final exhale, your body let go, and the weight of you in Joel's hands told him loud and clear that you were gone. He looked up at the sky, at the stars that shone brightly despite the complete chaos. His body shook with a sob, a sob that guided your soul away from this world. A sob with which a part of Joel died. You took it as you went, and he was never going to be the same.

Tommy didn't rush Joel. Couldn't bring himself to. Sarah was crying with her head buried in her uncle's shoulder, and Emma's choking sobs followed suit. Joel held you till your body was ice cold. His eyes had dried, and he was staring ahead of himself, but he saw nothing. The same darkness that danced within his heart was now dancing all around him. He took your hand into his, carefully taking off the engagement ring from your finger before doing the same with the necklace. He needed something. He needed something from you that he could carry with him.

With you in his arms, Joel stood up. His legs were shaking, but he stepped forward. Tommy rose as well, "Joel, you can't… ", he tried to stop his brother. He understood that parting with your lifeless body was hard, but Joel couldn't carry you around. "We're going", Joel said dryly, as he moved past them. Sarah managed to brush her fingers over your cold skin as her father walked past. "You can't", Tommy tried again, but Joel turned back around, looking feral. "I said we MOVE,", he barked out, making Sarah shiver, and Em only cried more. "Dad,", the older girl tried, but Joel paid her no mind. He couldn't, not now. Acknowledging her would mean that he would have to face reality. And he couldn't. He couldn't fall apart. Especially not now. A shield of coldness embraces Joel as he continues walking through the dark field, still feeling your blood dripping off his hands. Dead.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us x you #pedro pascal x reader

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borathae · 8 months

Text

“After listening to your friend’s story about how awesome it feels to sit on your boyfriend’s lap, you want to try it yourself. Jungkook is more than willing to offer his lap to you, even it makes his face burn up and his heart race like crazy (and maybe get his dick hard, but don’t tell anyone).

Alternatively: Maybe sitting on your boyfriend’s lap isn’t as innocent as you may have thought it would be.”

~ Requested by two anonies ~

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Gerne: College!AU, established relationship!AU, domestic!Fluff, Smut

Warnings: shy but horny!Jungkook, shy but horny!Reader, they both think the other is in charge which ends up with them being two needy subs grinding on each other, so much domestic sweetness, listen it’s so cute, making out, lap sitting, thigh riding, she rubs his cock over his clothes, grinding, she grinds her pussy on his cock, unprotected sex in the sense that he cums on her without a condom on but dw they are both clean & on birth control, cuddles for aftercare

Wordcount: 4.1k

a/n: I combined these two requests and decided to go with the Sense of Innocence!couple because they fit them really well. This is so adorable and cute and gosh, I love writing for them. They are both such sweethearts. Enjoy my lovelies, this is also my B-Day present for Koo 💗

You are hanging out at Jungkook’s place today. It is raining outside. The skies were grey and on the roads little rivers of fallen water were making their way downtown.

You don’t mind the weather. Not only because you love rainy weather, but also because Jungkook’s place was really cozy. He has his heaters on at their highest level, keeping the apartment nice and toasty. His diffuser was on as well, soaking the air in a sweet and perfectly faint vanilla scent. He even turned on his galaxy lamp. It is barely visible right now, as you not only have the lights on, but it’s also still bright outside. It still gave the room a slight colourful hue to it, which was nice.

Jungkook is playing Animal Crossing on his TV while you are next to him, playing on your phone.

Your feet you have buried under his thigh, using his body heat to keep your toes warm. Every now and then you can feel Jungkook caressing the back of your calf as a reminder that he was there and you were there and while he was busy with gaming he still thought of you. It was a nice reminder.

Right this moment you received yet another text from your classmate and friend Jia giving you dating advice.

- Jia: are you serious? you never sat on his lap before??

- Jia: haven’t you guys been together for like seven months??

Well, it was more of her shaming you for your slow step taking, but it was dating advice nonetheless.

- You: not like this. not so random.

- You: what if it’s weird?

Her answer is instant.

- Jia: girl, it’s weirder that you’ve never done it before

- You: :( i just don’t wanna be too much

- Jia: he loves you like crazy, I don’t think he’d think it’s too much

You contemplate her answer long enough that she sends you three more messages.

- Jia: besides. two things.

- Jia: sitting on your guy’s lap is so comfy

- Jia: and Kook’s a dude, he’ll love it cause dudes love that shit

You sneak a glance at Jungkook, who just this moment shoves a big handful of salted peanuts into his mouth. He wipes the access salt on his black shorts and chews with his big eyes focused on the screen.

So Jungkook loves it when you sit on his lap because all dudes do.

That sounds like a stereotype to you.

- You: I feel like that’s way too generic. not every guy’s the same.

- Jia: yeah, duh? but he’s into you and if a guy’s into you he likes it when you sit on him

You feel your cheeks heat up at her choice of words, looking at Jungkook in case he somehow heard what you just read. He obviously didn’t, still highly concentrated on planting pink flowers on his island.

- You: you really think so?

- Jia: yeah

- You: and it’s worth it?

- Jia: YEAH

You look at Jungkook again. He is chewing again, which means he shoved some peanuts into his mouth when you weren’t looking.

- You: okay I’ll do it, brb

You don’t get to see her answer, but she is cheering for you.

You place your phone down.

“Hey, Kook, uhm.”

“Hm?” he says, cocking his eyebrow up but not looking away from his game.

“Can I try something?”

“Yeah, wanna play for a bit?” he offers, but follows it up with, “can I just finish the flowers first? I know exactly where to put them and I don’t wanna forget the spots.”

“No, I wanna uhm…can I just show you?”

Jungkook nods his head, “sure”, he says, still staring at his game.

You take a deep breath and peel yourself off your comfortable lounging spot to get on all fours and crawl to him.

He sneaks a glance at you from the corners of his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eating some peanuts again.

You take his arm and pull it around you. At that Jungkook finally looks at you, flashing you a sweet smile instantly.

“Hey”, he says, pulling you closer.

“Hey, uhm”, you murmur, doing the next step of climbing on top of his lap and then sitting down.

“Oh?” he widens his eyes, gawking at you with his lips parted in a perfect O-shape.

You don’t bear to look into his eyes. Instead you let yourself plop against his chest, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Jungkook lets out a soft chuckle, nuzzling his cheek against your head. He rubs his hand up and down your back.

“You’re cute”, he says and pecks your hair.

“Do, do you like it?” you ask him.

“Yeah, I do”, he says, returning to his game, “so snuggly.”

You smile. So Jia was right. He likes it. You cuddle closer and begin playing with his hair. You like it too.

His chest is strong, his thighs are soft now that they are relaxed and his arms around you feel so safe. He also smells heavenly. Like his body lotion and laundry detergent. The faint scent of his shampoo lingers on his neck as well, as does the actual smell of his skin.

“Feels nice, don’t stop”, Jungkook says.

You also really love that you can play with his hair so easily. He has the softest hair. It’s always so nice to feel it run through your fingers and tickle your skin.

“Your hair is so soft”, you tell him shyly.

Jungkook rests his head against yours in acknowledgement, humming a soft “mhm”. He knows that he doesn’t have to say more.

You spend the next moments like this. Cuddled up together as Jungkook plays Animal Crossing. He is preparing his island for a flower festival and he wants it to look as perfect as possible. Every now and then, you can hear him munch on some peanuts or mumble innocent curses under his breath when he accidentally planted the flower in the wrong spot.

You feel so cozy atop his lap. He is so warm and snuggly. And the touches he gives you make you tingle like crazy. Each time he eats some peanuts, he makes sure to connect himself with you by touching you softly. His fingers trace your spine, his palms run along your side or thigh and every now and then you feel his lips leave a little kiss on your head. It’s so, so nice to experience and you curse yourself for not doing it sooner.

You would have sat on him longer if the stupid doorbell hadn’t rang. Jungkook lifts his phone to check for the time.

“Our chicken”, he exclaims, “took them long enough. Wah, more than an hour.”

The doorbell rings again. He pats your butt gently.

“Baby, can I get the chicken?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m already getting it”, you say and peel yourself up with a heavy heart. You wanted to stay on his lap for longer.

You thank the delivery person, wishing them a safe drive home. The rain became stronger in the time you sat on Jungkook’s lap, entering his apartment and hitting your toes when you had to open the door. The delivery person trots down the stairs with their head held low to shield the rain. Poor them. You hope that they can warm up and dry off soon.

You lock the door and return to Jungkook. He already has two plates set out and a pair of plastic gloves for each of you.

“Wah, look at the size of that box. I’m so hungry already, you have no idea. Thank you for getting it”, he says, meeting you halfway to take the box from you. He carries it to his coffee table and sets it down. Then he opens it, busying himself with taking out the different sauces and opening them.

You in the meantime, get comfortable next to him and switch the channels.

“Thank you”, he says.

“Sure. Should we continue Physical 100?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

And so it happens that you and Jungkook watch your current shared favourite show as you eat your crispy chicken. It is a very amazing time and the food is really tasty. But you can’t deny the sad little feeling deep in your tummy that you can’t sit on his lap anymore. You got a taste of it and now you want to experience it again.

You and Jungkook wash down the chicken with some beer. He sighs happily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“The food was so good”, he says.

There is around seven minute of show left. He relaxes into the cushions and sips on his beer. You get up to clean the table.

“Baby, no”, he says, tugging you back down.

You fall with a squeak, landing on his lap. Your eyes flit up, meeting his playful gaze. Your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

“Don’t clean, you’re my guest. Just relax”, he says and wiggles his legs, “please?” he adds, widening his eyes cutely.

“Yeah okay”, you say, stifling a squeaky giggle as you settle against his chest. Your back is resting against it while your head is on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck and kissing you softly.

“I love that”, he says, “this is so nice.”

“Yeah it is”, you agree, feeling your heart race like crazy. This is the best feeling ever. It really is.

And so it happens that you finish the show sitting on Jungkook’s lap. You drink your beer, laugh or gasp at parts of the show and enjoy the other’s warmth to the fullest. And you are so, so happy that you dared to take the step. Being on his lap is amazing.

“Do you wanna watch another episode?” he asks once the show finished.

“Yeah, why not?” you say.

“Noice”, he says, pecking your cheek, “keep it playing, I just gotta wash the dishes. I thought I could handle them being here, but I can’t. I’m so fidgety.”

You get off his lap and help him clean the coffee table. The show is running in the background. His kitchen is located right behind the TV, allowing you to listening to the show clearly.

“I get it. It’s nicer when everything’s clean”, you tell him, throwing away the empty chicken box and cans of beer.

“Yeah definitely.”

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to do the dishes. They were only two plates after all. You are already on the sofa again when he returns. He sits down next to you and sneaks a glance at you. You do the same.

“Do you…” you begin.

“Yeah”, he says, blushing softly.

“Okay”, you almost squeak the word and then you are already on your feet to change your position. You sit down on his lap again, cuddling into him while he hugs you tightly.

“This is so nice”, he says, resting his chin on your shoulder and smiling softly.

“Yeah, it really is”, you agree, feeling oh so happy.

You manage to watch a good two thirds of the show and then you have to get up to pee. You tell Jungkook to keep the show running because you don’t like the current team and don’t care about what happens to them. Jungkook still gives you updates when you are sitting on the toilet, doing so by yelling out what was happening. It made you chuckle because it was cute.

Jungkook is gawking at the screen with big eyes and parted lips once you return. He is resting his elbows on his knees, looking totally captured by the show.

Saddened by the fact that you can’t sit on his lap anymore, you sit down next to him.

His head turns to you instantly, he frowns at you, studying you with sad eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you sitting there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Get on here”, he says, patting his lap, “don’t sit there.”

“Oh”, your cheeks heat up instantly, “sorry, I just didn’t want to force myself onto you.”

“You’re not. Now com’ere”, he says and opens his arms for you.

You follow happily, doing it in a way so you were facing him again.

“But you can’t watch the show like that”, he says.

“It’s fine, I like this so much more”, you tell him, running your hands up and down his neck.

He gazes into your eyes and smiles with them. You retort it.

“You’re cute”, he says.

“You like this, don’t you?”

“I love it so much”, he says.

“I thought that I would try it tonight.”

“It’s amazing”, he smiles, caressing your waist.

You are so giddy! You have to kiss him! You do so rather forcefully, knocking a surprised squeak out of him. He falls into the cushions, accepting the kiss with his breath tickling your cheek as he exhales shakily. One more time you suck on his lips and then you pull back to sneak a glance at him.

His eyes are half-lidded, his lips are parted. He gazes at your lips then locks eyes with you. A soft, hazy smile lights up his face.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“Just so. I think you’re so cute”, you tell him.

“I think you’re cuter”, he says and looks at your lips, “I want to kiss you again”, he confesses, cupping your cheek, “please?”

You close the distance between you and him. You want the same. You got a taste of him and now all you want to do is have him on your lips for hours. It starts off innocent. Really, you didn’t mean for it to turn into the mess it will turn into ten minutes from now.

It starts off oh so innocently. You are feeling each other up, but it is never meant to linger on an intimate spot. You touch his chest, his shoulders, his face and neck, playing with his hair as well. While he feels up your back, your waist, your legs and your face, tickling your scalp every now and then as well. It was supposed to be innocent, but the thing with being stupidly and unbearably in love with each other is that there will come a time where the innocent touches leave exciting sparks on your skin and then those touches send your hearts into overdrive and make your breaths shaky.

You break the kiss, just so you can connect your tender lips with his neck.

“Baby”, Jungkook sighs, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes, “that feels really good.”

His pulse is racing like crazy under your lips, encouraging you to keep going. Jungkook moans softly, sliding his hands to your hips. That’s when the innocence ceases to exist. You chase his touch, forcing your pussy to grind against his thigh.

“Ah”, you gasp, tensing up and lifting your head.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, looking at you with big, worried eyes.

“I, I”, you stutter, feeling your face heat up unbearably.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” he stresses.

You wiggle your hips and bite down a little moan. The pressure and warmth on your clit felt really intense. Jungkook sneaks a glance down at you, widening his eyes.

“Oh”, he lets out, looking back at you.

You lower your head, feeling too embarrassed to look into his eyes. He’ll probably think that you’re such a needy idiot.

Jungkook takes your hand and guides it to his dick wordlessly.

“Oh?” you gasp, gawking at him. He is really hard in his shorts, twitching into your hand as he guides your fingers over his tip. He is blushing like crazy.

“I didn’t want to say, because I didn’t wanna be a horndog”, he says and grins shyly.

“Oh”, you let out and wiggle your hips on his thigh. The grinding motion feels so good that you let out a little moan. Jungkook answers you with a moan as well, looking at your lips with droopy eyes. He is still rubbing your hand over his clothed cock, but soon doesn’t have to anymore as you take over.

“This is good”, he sighs.

“Yeah, it’s good”, you agree.

Jungkook places his strong hands on your hips and helps you ride his thigh. He feels so good. You are so warm on his thigh and the way you seem to tense and shudder each time your hips roll over his muscle excites him a lot. You in return love how his cock is twitching under your hand and how hot he feels to the touch.

You exchange one look, one moan, one touch and then you are kissing again. Sloppier than before. More tongue as well. And with lots of little sounds escaping the both of you. The show is almost over by now. Only ten minutes left. Neither of you take it in. It’s background noise, just as the loud rain outside is.

You rub each other sensitive that way. The next episode is already four minutes in when you break the kiss again. You have soaked through your panties and sweats by now. Jungkook did the same with his shorts. You are panting like crazy, barely catching your breaths. You try to look at him, but barely can. He is so blurry in your vision. You cup his heated cheeks. Jungkook leans into your touch, moaning your name.

“I can’t hold it for long”, he confesses.

“Same”, you say, tensing on his lap.

“I wanna feel your pussy.”

“We could take our pants off.”

“Yeah please.”

“Okay.”

You scramble to get naked. At least your bottoms for now. You are too horny to care about your shirts. You just want to connect with each other again. You scramble back onto his lap, Jungkook welcomes you with open arms. He grips your hips instantly without ever guiding you. You still think that he is. Neither of you really think they’re in charge, both think it’s the other. It still works somehow. You find each other, pressing up against the other.

Like this, your pussy is grinding right against his cock. Said cock is resting against Jungkook’s stomach, twitching when your wet warmth comes into contact with him.

“Baby”, Jungkook moans, closing his eyes, “baby that feels so good.”

“Yeah”, you moan and chase him with rolls of your hips. His cock grinds right against your clit, sending electric pleasure through your veins. He is so much warmer than his thigh was. And softer. And so much wetter. Oh god, having his naked cock against your pussy feels so good. You don’t want to stop chasing him. He probably thinks that you are acting so needy right now, but you have to keep moving.

You lower your head to kiss his neck and suck on his skin desperately.

Jungkook moans, dropping his head on the edge of the backrest. Like this, his body slides down the cushions just enough that you have even better access to his cock. You press down on him and use the better position to focus your attention on his tip.

Jungkook shudders, tensing his thighs as he feels bolts of pleasure course through him.

“Don’t stop”, he begs, leaking in bliss.

You smear it all over your pussy and cock seconds later, mixing it with your own never ending slick. The movements are so easy because of how wet both of you are. You can’t stop grinding on him even if you wanted to. His request is unnecessary because all you want to do is keep feeling him in this way.

“Don’t stop”, you beg. You don’t know why you begged, but it felt so right to do. In your eyes it is Jungkook, after all, who controls the scene. Who guides your hips with his hands as you lose yourself on his cock.

While he thinks that you are having him wrapped around your every finger, laying willing victim to your sweet seduction.

Truly it is almost adorable how wrong either of you was. Just two submissive lovers grinding on each other, thinking they are the one submitting whilst in reality you are both equally submissive. It’s adorable, really. Adorable and very needy.

Oh so needy.

You break your lips from Jungkook’s neck because you needed to breathe. You are so dizzy that it gets hard to keep moving your hips. But you have to, Jungkook would want you to.

“I’m so close”, you whimper, twisting a bundle of his hair.

“Me too, baby”, Jungkook gets out, squeezing your hips. He is holding back. All he really wants to do is climax all over your pussy. But he holds back, because you would want him to.

Adorable, really. You both are so adorably stupid right now.

“Kookie”, you whimper, tensing up. Your clit is pulsating like crazy. You can’t describe how intense his cock feels on it, but it does. Oh it does. You can barely breathe.

“You can c-cum whenever you, you need to”, Jungkook stutters, squeezing your hips.

“R-really?” you squeak out, resting your forehead on his shoulder. You are so ruined. Oh god, so ruined. You need to keep grinding and grinding and grinding.

“Yes”, he says and in his ears it’s him making sure that you cum first, but to you it sounds like he is finally giving you permission to let go.

You press yourself closer and sob his name, hiding away in the crook of his neck as you let that tight knot in your tummy burst. You manage to grind yourself on him one more time and then the pleasure gets too difficult to bear.

“Oh god”, you choke out, convulsing atop his lap as your fingers twist his hair desperately. You feel so hot. Your pussy feels like she’s burning up. It’s so intense that you end up sobbing his name again and squeezing him for comfort.

“You’re so hot”, Jungkook mewls, helping you ride out your high by moving his hips which results in his cock grinding against your pussy, “oh god baby, oh god.”

You finish after five aggressive shakes of your legs.

“Kook”, you moan, chasing him even if it hurts a little. You already acted needy enough, now you need to get him off as well, “Kook please.”

“I’m gonna cum”, Jungkook whimpers, “I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Please”, you beg him, grinding your overstimulated pussy against his tip.

“___”, Jungkook moans and arches his back. The tight knot in his stomach breaks and fire takes a hold of his body. It feels so good to climax like that, leaving him to drop into the cushions and keen your name loudly.

“Yes, thank you”, you pant, helping him ride out his high by grinding on his cock. He made you so sticky and wet now that he is cumming all over your pussy. You really like the feeling, chasing it with needy ruts of your hips.

It takes Jungkook six rolls of your hips and then he gets too overstimulated. He grips your hips and drags you away from his cock.

“Please no more”, he begs.

You drop onto his lap, soiling his skin with your mess. Neither of you care.

“Thank you”, he gets out, hugging you against him, “oh god, this was amazing.”

“Yeah”, you agree with your head resting on his chest, “I was so horny.”

“Me too”, he says, chuckling breathily, “you’re amazing.”

“No, you are.”

You lift your head to send him a goofy grin. One he retorts happily.

Behind you the show announces the new challenge. You and Jungkook sneak a glance at it.

“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook asks, reaching for the remote to press the information button, “huh? How are we already halfway through the next episode?”

“Stop it. I don’t wanna spoiler myself”, you say.

Jungkook turns off the TV and drops the remote in synch with his head falling against the sofa, “we’re idiots. I didn’t even realise the show was still on”, he laughs.

“Yeah me neither”, you giggle, “but I don’t regret it.”

“Agreed”, he says, hugging your waist, “lean into me, I wanna hold you.”

“Mhm, Kookie”, you say, snuggling into him, “we gotta rewatch what we missed.”

“Yeah definitely.”

“I gotta go pee and clean up soon”, you whisper.

“Hush, just a few more moments. I need to savour you.”

“That’s fine with me”, you say, feeling oh so happy that you want to scream.

Jungkook feels the same, replaying what happened moments before in his head. He is smiling as he does, feeling his heart race like crazy.

Jia will ask you for updates when you meet her on campus on Wednesday, but you won’t give her more than a simple “he really loved it”. She smiled and then acted cocky about being right.

1K notes · View notes

quintinh43 · 2 months

Text

Fucking Canada | Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke is out with an injury, Y/n is on break from school. Obviously, the only logical thing is for them to head down to Vancouver to visit Quinn.

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Meantions of Anxiety, Drinking (drink responsibly kids), Some light suggestive content. Use of the name Mariana. Let me know if I missed anything!

Wc: 4.9k

This one's for @toasttt11, stay awesome 🫶🏼

---

Luke had been been out with an injury for a week. And it was driving him insane. He had begged and begged the trainers to at least allow him on the ice with the team. He'd batted his long eyelashes and given them puppy dog eyes and the famous Hughes pout, yet somehow they resisted and firmly told him he was not to touch a pair of skates until after his two-week check up.

And that was only if his check-up came back all ok. So in his boredom, he flew down to Michigan to spend time with you, and then decided that as soon as your break started he was flying both of you down to Vancouver for the week, because fuck he missed his big brother.

He rolled his wrist around in its brace, and you smack him in the chest. "Stop doing that. You're gonna aggravate your wrist and make it worse."

"Baby, I swear its fine," he whined, "The trainers don't know what they're talking about."

You snort, and grab his arm, pinning it beneath your torso, being careful to ensure that the strained part of his wrist was not under you.

"Baby, please," he whined, tugging his arm gently. "Let me up,"

"Only if you promise to stop rolling your wrist." You glare.

"I promise" Luke mumbles shifting towards you to run his lips along your jaw. Your stomach flutters, pink dusts across your cheeks, and you let him go immediately. He leans on his elbows and kisses down your neck.

"Luke" you whisper breathlessly.

"Hmm" he hums, nipping at the sensitive skin along the column of your troat.

You bite your lip, debating telling him off. But kissing Luke is much much better than studying physiology, and you haven't had a break in a while. You slam your textbook shut, and all but kick it off the bed.

"You're such a menace," you huff, he wraps his uninjured arm around you, and drags himself fully on top of you, kissing gently down your neck.

"You know you love me," he grins.

"You're lucky I do, Hughes. Now get back to kissing me,"

"Yes ma'am," he chuckles, lips dancing along your collarbones.

There's a knock on your door and before you can tell whoever it is to fuck off, your roommate and best university friend; Mariana barges in.

"Enough sexy time, kids!" she says, ignoring the murderous glares both you and Luke throw her way, "If you still want a ride to the airport, we are leaving in ten." She walks out, leaving the door open. You sigh, nudging Luke with your shoulder, to get off of you. He pecks one last kiss to your cheek and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet so the two of you can get all your things together.

You slide your laptop into your bag, grab all your chargers, and make sure you have an extra set of headphones. Because God knows the worst thing that could possibly happen is being stuck on an airplane with no muisc. After double and triple checking that you have everything, Mariana ushers you out the door hurriedly.

The ride to the airport is nothing special. You and Mariana sit in the front while Luke is banished to the back. You stretch an arm back to hold his hand, and he leans his head on your seat to be closer to you.

"Have fun in Vancouver Babe," Mariana says giving you a tight parting hug, and kiss on the cheek.

"Better take care of my girl Hughes, or I'm coming for that other wrist" She threatens, giving Luke a hug. Luke laughs, patting Mariana's back.

"You know it, Mari," he grins, winking at you.

"Text me when you land, ok?" She says, squeezing your shoulder.

"I will. Thanks for the ride, Mar." You hive her one last squeeze goodbye and take Luke's hand as you head through the airport.

Everything goes smoothly, thank God, and soon you and Luke are boarded the plane. It's a fight over who takes the window seat. You think Luke should have it cause he has longer legs, and Luke thinks you should have it because you deserve the best seat.

After convincing Luke that as long as you're sitting beside him, you do have the best seat, he reluctantly takes the window seat. And makes sure to tell you that if you want to switch at any time, just tell him.

You nod, knowing that you absolutely won't be doing that, but what Luke doesn't know won't hurt him. You're set to arrive just before Quinn's game tonight, which means that the two of you won't get to see him until later. After going through your mental checklist, making sure everything is organized, you stick your headphones in and rest your head on Luke's shoulder and promptly pass out.

Luke is shaking you awake gently when it's time to get off the plane. "Wake up, Baby, it's time to get going," he says softly.

You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, "Alright lets go,"

You grab all of yours and Lukes belongings from the overhead compartment, much to his dismay. "Baby, let me help,"

"Luke Warren, I swear if you touch any of this luggage with that wrist, I'll chop it off," you say sternly. You hand him his backpack, and he slings it over his shoulder with a pout.

You grab his injured hand gently, lacing your fingers together as best as you can with his brace on, and head off the plane. As you step into the Uber, both your phones buzz with a text from Quinn.

Q: I left a key for you guys with the front desk, Luke just has to show some ID.

Q: You guys are coming to the game right?

Luke: Yep, excited to see you Q

You: Were just heading to your place now, to get settled and then we're on our way. See you soon!

Q: Excited to see you guys too.

You arrive at his apartment, and Luke shows his ID to the front desk, and they hand over the key. Quinn's apartment is nice, but it's so clean. It looks like a place out of a modern decor magazine, except for the photos of his family scattered here and there.

There's a two jerseys folded neatly on the bed with a sticky note that says 'Don't be a little bitch' on top. "Nope" Luke says as he immediately lays eyes on it, "I'm not wearing that, nither are you."

You roll your eyes at him, but don't argue. It makes sense that he wouldn't wear it. Players have a thing about not wearing another franchises merchandise. He unzips his suitcase and pulls out two black hoodies with white stitching that says Hughes 43 on the back. Except if you look carefully, the devils logo is stitched on the sleeve.

You shake your head with a smile and take the hoodie from him. "Let me just change into something better, and we'll head out."

Luke nods, digging around for a pair of jeans for himself. The two of you make quick work of changing, and then you're on your way to the game. Quinn, smartly left the tickets under your name, lest someone spill the beans that Luke Hughes is in Vancouver to watch his brother play.

Your seats are right by the glass. When Quinn notices you, he skates over, unable to keep the smile off his face. "Bitches" he mouths with a smile, as he takes in the lack of Canuck blue in your outfits.

You grin and flash him a heart with your fingers while Luke flips him off, making sure he can see the devils logo on the sleeve. Quinn shakes his head at Luke and skates off to finish warm-ups.

Thankfully, no one really takes note of the interaction. Luke has a cap pulled low, so unless someone is really looking for Luke Hughes, then he shouldn't be recognized. The atmosphere is electric. Canadian hockey really hits differently.

The game is nerve-wracking, and for most of it, you and Luke are on the edges of your seats, grabbing at eachother hands, and slapping eachothers knees in excitement whenever something particular exciting happens. And when Quinn picks up a goal, the two of you are jumping and screaming.

The game ends with a canuck win, and as you two make your way down to the locker room to greet Quinn, you're chattering excitedly about all the good plays that were made. Especially Quinn's. He picked up a goal and three assists, making him the top point scorer of the game.

As he walks out of the locker room, he can't keep the smile off his face as he lands eyes on you and Luke. As much as he doesn't mind being on his own, seeing his family is always the best. You've been around the Hughes boys since you were growing up. From Toronto to Michigan. Your family's were really close and still are to this day.

He pulls you into a hug first, "Good to see you Y/n" he says, patting you on the back.

He goes to hug Luke, and in true brotherly fashion, he can't help but make a jab at him as does so. "I swear to God, you get taller every time I see you." Rather than standing on his tip toes to throw his arms around Lukes neck, he hooks his ankle around the back of Luke's knee and Luke's knees buckle.

Quinn catches him in a hug before he can hit the floor. You and Quinn are laughing, while Luke grumbles. He snatches Quinns hat off his head, making his hair stick up in every which way and holds it as high as he can. Quinn rolls his eyes, not taking the bait, and starts to walk.

Luke huffs and throws his hat back at him. "How did y'all get here?"

"Uber," you say, throwing an arm around Luke's waist as you walk. He drapes his arm around your shoulder, fingers brushing patters against your shoulder.

"The team is going out to celebrate. Do you guys wanna join, or do you want a ride home first?"

"Well, come with," Luke smiles, "Good game, dude, you made some nasty moves."

Pink dusts Quinn's cheeks, and he changes the conversation. "How's the wrist?"

Luke rolls his eyes, and before he can roll his wrist, you glare at him. "It's completely fucking fine."

"It's not" you say

"The trainers don't know what they are talking about." He mutters.

"They do" You add poking luke in the side.

Quinn scoffs, "Yes, im sure the people whose literal job it is to treat your injures don't know what they are talking about."

Luke pouts, "I can't believe my girl and my brother are ganging up on me like this,"

"Well, maybe if you weren't so stubborn." You and Quinn say simultaneously, looking at each other with a grin.

Luke grumbles unintelligiblly and Quinn throws his bags in this trunk. Luke takes the front seat, and this time, he's the one reaching his arm back to hold your hand. You smile, lacing your fingers together. Quinn rolls the eyes at the two of you with a smile.

The drive to the bar is filled with the light chatter of the three of you catching up about life. Unsurprisingly, Quinn has nothing interesting happening in his love life. The man eats, breathes, sleeps, and lives hockey. Luke teases him about becoming an old spinster while he glances at you lovingly. No doubt envisioning the magnificence that your lives will be together.

The bar is absolutely packed. Not surprisingly. It's a Friday night and the Canucks won. Some of the team is already there, in a roped off Vip area. They wave Quin over urgently. He grabs your hand and you grab Luke's so as not to get separated in the crowd of drunk people.

Quinn greets his teammates with hugs and back slaps and inside jokes. Some of them grin at you and Luke, wiggling their eyebrows at you and dragging Luke into hugs.

"So why are Mr. And Mrs. Huggy Jr. Here?" Brock asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Luke smiles at that, tracing his finger over the back of your left ring finger. "Luke is out injured, and I'm on a break from school," you shrug, playing with Luke's hand in yours.

"I'm going to get a refill," Luke hums, kissing the tip of your ear as he detangles himself from you, "want anything?"

"I'm good for now, baby," you say, kissing him on the cheek. When you turn back to the guys, they are all leaning close to you, batting their eyelashes like a group of High-school girls waiting to hear the latest drama about your crush.

Petey is the first to speak, "So when is he proposing?"

Millsy slaps him in the back of the head, "How is she supposed to know when he's proposing dumbass?"

"That man is so fucking whipped for you," Brock smirks, and you can't help the blush that colours your cheeks.

"You guys will have some cute babiess," Garland grins, just the slightest bit tipsy.

"Alright, alright, leave her alone. That's my sister-in-law you're bullying" Quinn says, coming to your rescue. He throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You ok?" He asks quietly, the guys already forgetting the previous topic of conversation.

"Yeah, thanks Quinn," you smile, squeezing his hand back.

"Well, I'm absolutely beat, so I'm gonna go home. Do y'all wanna stay, or are you ready to head home?"

"We'll stay I think, me and Lukey are having fun, and I have yet to drag him to the dance floor. Are you ok to drive home?"

"Yeah, I haven't been drinking," Quinn says, smiling softly at your concern for him. "Sorry to leave y'all hanging."

"Don't worry about it, Quinn, we'll see you tomorrow. You played a good game, go get lots of rest," you smile, wrapping him in a quick hug.

He hugs you back and turns to address the guys. "I'm heading out if anyone wants a ride," Before the sentence fully leaves his mouth, Petey is practically throwing himself at Quinn. He stumbles into the two of you, and you both reach out to make sure he doesn't eat the floor. "I drank too much," he mumbles.

You laugh, patting his back, as Quinn stabilizes him. "I'm making you do bag skates next practice," Quinn says with entirely too much joy, as he practically half carries Petey out of the bar.

With Quinn gone, you dip out of the Vip section to find Luke, you spot him sitting at the bar, cheeks flushed, empty shot glasses littered suspiciously close to him. He's holding another glass that looks like soda, and there's a girl leaning much to close to him. He's leaning back slowly, looking very unimpressed.

Until he spots you. His megawatt lady killer smile appears as he all but pushes the other girl out of the way, and practically sprints to you, as well as someone can sprint in a crowded bar. Your hands rest on his arms, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Luke, are you ok?" You ask concerned, eyes flitting across his face, "have you been drinking?"

"Y/n!" He is way too giddy to be sober, "I know we said, we weren't drinking, but then I was sad about my wrist and someone said that the alcohol would make me feel better, so drank a little teeny tiny shot, and then another one cause somone got me another one, and then this group of girls asked me if I wanted to do shots with them, and I was gonna say no, but then they already ordered the shots and then-"

You cut off his drunk rambling, your voice laced with concern. "Luke baby, do you remember how many shots you took?" You ask, the calmness of your voice not giving way to the absolutely disastrous thoughts swimming in your head.

"Four, I think!" He grins, trying to count the glasses that were littered on the bar top in front of where he was sitting. There were five. Your eyes widen almost comically. He was barely gone for half an hour. He took five shots of straight alcohol in less than half an hour. Fuck.

Now it wasn't as if Luke hadn't drank before, undoubtedly he had. But definitely not that amount of alcohol in that span of time. Plus, it wasnt really recommended for professional athletes to drink anyways, so the amount of alcohol he'd consumed since the beginning of the season probably didn't even equate the amount that he'd drank tonight alone. Double Fuck.

And on top of all of that, Quinn had already left. "My wrist feels so much better!" Luke says happily, "I can take off my brace!" As he reaches for straps on his brace, you grab his hand.

"Absolutely not Luke." You lace your fingers with his to keep him from taking off his brace while you try to figure out what to do. Before you know what's happening, there's another full shot glass in front of you, and Luke is knocking it back. Triple Fuck.

"It burns," he pouts, shaking his head like he just ate something sour.

"Luke, how did you even get alcohol? we're underage!" The disbelief is evident in your voice.

The bartender hears your statement and decides that he'd better clear up that misconception before he gets into some kond of trouble. "No ma'am," he says, leaning over the counter. "I checked his ID, says he's twenty, that's legal"

Suddenly, you are very pissed that the bartender is telling you how old your own boyfriend is. Just as you're about to snap at him for clearly not being able to to his job correctly, if he thinks twenty is legal, you remember that you're no longer in the States.

You're in Canada. Fucking Canada. Racking your brain, you try to recall the legal age in British Columbia. You feel so stupid. It's nineteen. Ninteen year olds are legally allowed to drink in B.C. Luke is twenty. Fuck fuck fucking fuckitty fuck.

Before you sprial into a full-on panic, you take a deep breath. Luke is drunk out of his mind, and he needs to get home now, and you panicking will not help the situation. You slap your card down on the bar top and tell the bartender to close Luke's tab.

You don't trust Luke to be left to his own devices, so you sling his arm around your shoulder and half drag him to where you left your phone and purse with Brock. You gently guide Luke to sit on one of the chairs. He does so shakily and wraps one arm around your chest, pulling you flush against his body.

His knees are squeezing your hips, his fingers are tracing over your collarbones, and his face is tucked against your neck.

"Woah! is Huggy Jr. drunk?" Brock asks, grinning madly as he hands you your phone and purse.

"In the span of time that he disappeared, he took six fucking shots" you grumble, as you order an Uber to get home.

Brock almsot chokes on his drink. He stares wide eyes, "oh so he's fucking blackout," he takes his phone and snaps a photo of you and Luke. The glare that you send him is so murderous that if looks could kill he'd be six feet under.

"Sorry," he shrugs with a shit eating grin that says he's not sorry at all, "I need some proof of this for when he wakes up hating his life tomorrow."

"Alright, well, at least send it to me." You grumble, Brock laughs, and your phone buzzes with a notification from him immediately after. "And hey, please don't tell Quinn anything right now. He's probably home and in bed by now, and I don't wanna stress him out unnecessarily."

Brock nods, "Don't worry, kid, my lips are sealed." He sighs like an older brother, "if I was sober, i'd be driving you home."

"Oh Brock, don't worry about it. You guys had great games, and you deserve to celebrate. We'll be fine, I promise," you smile. Your heart melts a little, you've only met the canucks a few times but from the instant that you did they treated you like family.

"Alright, alright, just let me know when you're home safe, I'll feel much better."

"You got it, Brocky," you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Brock grins like a school boy who just got a kiss from his crush. Thankfully, drunk Luke doesn't decide to make an appearance. Otherwise, he might have absolutely decked Brock in the face.

Not that he would've succeeded, based on how drunk he is. You're almost sure he's fallen asleep. Until his lips start moving against your neck. Quadruple fuck. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out loud as he nips at your throat with so much care you'd think he was fully sober.

His fingers start to make patterns along your collarbones, dipping lower toward the curve of your breasts. You don't want him to stop.

"Luke," you whisper desperately, laying your head atop his gently.

His hum of response reverberates against your skin, and pleasure melts down your spine, stomach fluttering.

"Luke," you try again, voice strained as his teeth screen against the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, "not here baby, we're in public."

" 's go home" he murmers into your skin, "wanna fuck my pretty girl."

Your cheeks go red faster than you thought possible. What a time to find out Luke is a horny drunk.

"Luke," his name is a prayer on your lips. The fingers of his injured hand burn as they press into your waist.

" 'm starvin for you baby," he mumbles, the tips of his fingers brushing under the waistband of your jeans.

Heat coils in your stomach, and you bite your lip to keep a whimper from spilling from your lips. As if some Devine power is on your side, you get a notification that your Uber has arrived.

"Our ride is here." Your voice is practically a squeak.

"Want you to ride me." Luke says, and you can feel his lips turn up into a smirk against your skin. You have to cover your mouth with your hand. Luke chuckles darkly. "Pretty girl has to cover her mouth so everyone doesn't know what a dirty girl she is." he hums nosing at your neck. If you're here any longer, you might actually combust. You make sure you have everything because you can quite literally never return to this bar every again.

You help pull Luke out of his chair and drape one of his arms over your shoulder. You wrap your arm around his waist to keep him steady. "Gonna eat you up when we're alone," he mutters, his grin all teeth. He's so fucking beautiful it makes your troat go dry.

You're blushing like a school girl as you help him out of the bar. He's leaning most of his weight on you while he whispers dirty things in your ear. You're surprised that you even manage to get him out of the bar on your own, mainly because his comments are making you weak in the knees. And partially because he's a 6'2, 185-pound man.

You successfully get him into the backseat and give the driver Quinns address. Thank God he lives close. A ten minute drive at most. But unfortunately for you, it feels like hours. Because Luke had been very perceptive as to how his advances were making you react and continues them with no mercy.

"So pretty f' me" he mumbles, hand trailing up your thigh, lips fluttering over your neck, "gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?"

"Not here, Luke," You whisper, grabbing his hand. You kiss the back of his knuckles and looks at you with such desire in his eyes it takes every ounce of self control not strip and let him fuck you in the back seat of this random car. Your eyes flick to the driver and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, and say a prayer for forgiveness as your lips trail up his hand.

You close your lips over two of his fingers, and he groans, his head falling against your shoulder. "Gotta be quiet, baby," you murmer, squeezing his knee with one hand before closing your lips back over his fingers.

"m' quiet, m' quiet," he murmers against your neck. Then he's grinding his hips against yours, and there's a whimper caught in your throat. The car comes to a stop in front of Quinns building, and you are hopping out of the car like it's on fire and dragging Luke out behind you.

He stumbles into your back, an arm wrapping around your waist, his lips reattach to your neck, and you can't help the moan that slips out. As soon as the elevator door shuts, Luke pins you to the wall with a knee between your legs, and you drag him down for a desperate kiss.

He tastes like alcohol and cinnamon and home. And you never want to let him go. Then he's hissing with fire, a yearning, pleading fire as he grinds his hips against yours. All you want to do is let him have his way, but he's so so drunk. And no matter how many years the two of you have been dating, and how many times you've slept together, you made your decision way back at the bar that you wouldn't go further than kissing and grinding.

The elevator opens on Quinns floor, and the two of you stumble out. You pat your pockets for the keys to his apartment, and fuck- they aren't there. They must have gotten left in his car on the way to the bar.

You knock on the door nervously. One hand wrapped around Luke's waist, and the other braced against his chest. His uninjured hand is tracing up and down your side and in a way that makes it hard not to squirm as he places tender kisses along your jaw.

Quinn opens the door, looking oh so tired, a toothbrush hanging half out of his mouth. Clearly, he didn't expect you back so soon. His eyes go wide at the sight in front of him, and he resists the urge to gag, lest his toothbrush fall out of his mouth.

"Whad da fack!" He exclaims, spitting into the kitchen sink and closing the apartment door behind you. "Is he drunk?"

"Yes, just let me get him into bed, and I'll explain," you say urgently.

"Only going to bed if you're coming with me," he murmers, squeezing your hip, "need m' pretty girl."

"Do you have advil?" You ask Quinn, ignoring Luke's statement, Quinn wisely chooses not to comment as he grabs advil and a glass of water.

You deposit luke on the bed, huffing from his weight. He pulls you down with a smirk. "Wait, baby, let me get your clothes," you say quickly.

Luke wiggles his eyebrows and lets you undress him. You strip him of his jeans and t-shirt leaving him in his boxers. "Be good and drink this for me," you say, sliding the advil into his mouth.

"I'm good for you, baby," he mutters after he swallows.

"So good for me," you assured as he slipped under the blanket. As soon as his head hits the pillow, his eyes are fluttering. " 'm tir'd."

You stroke his hair back from his forehead softly. "I know, baby, I know,"

"Still want you," he pouted.

"I know, baby, and you'll have me tomorrow. It's sleep time now, ok?"

"Mm'kay," he mumbles, barely audible. You stroke his hair and mutter sweet nothings to him as he falls asleep. You change into a pair of sweats and one of Luke's devils' hoodies before shutting the bedroom door with a quiet click.

Quinn is sitting on the couch, with two mugs of steaming tea. You flop onto the couch, leaning your back against the armrest and tucking your feet under his legs. He hands you a mug of tea, and you take it gratefully, holding it close to your face and letting the steam warm you.

"So what the fuck happened?" Quinn questions.

"After you left, Luke still wasn't back and I went to find him, I don't know what really happened on his end, but he said he was sad about his wrist, and someone convinced him alchool would make it better." You sigh, taking a sip of your tea.

"Anyways, by the time I got him, he had had six shots in the span of a half hour."

Quinns eyes practically bulge out of his head. He looks like he's running calculations in his head, and his jaw drops. "I know," you grimace, "I'm sorry, I should've watched him better, I knew he wasn't happy about his wrist, and I let him -"

"How did he even get drinks?" Quinn asks, "He's not 21."

"Hush, Y/n, it's not your fault. He's a big boy he knows what he's doing." Quinn says softly, drawing you into his arms.

"Quinn, you don't feel bad either, ok?" You say softly knowing Quinn is beating himself up on the inside. He sighs, purses his lips and doesn't say anything for a long minute.

"It's Canada," you mutter like that explains everything. And to Quinn, it does explain it all.

"Fucking Canada" he mutters shaking his head.

---

Hi guys!! I was very excited while writing this, so I hope y'all like it. Comment comment comment! I love comments, I wanna hear all your thoughts! They always make my day a bit brighter.

On that note, I'm going on a bit of a writing break for a week-ish cause schools getting a bit busy with midterms and final papers and whatnot. I'll still be active, tho (unless i feel like it's distracting, then I might fall off the face of the earth for a bit).

Anyways, with that, I hope y'all have a lovely, lovely evening. Love Soph ♡

#luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #qh43 #elias pettersson #brock boeser #vancover canucks #nj devils #fuck fuck fucking fuckity fuck #megawatt ladykiller will be making a reappearance

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lucid-daydreaming-art · 1 month

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MORE INFECTED…..

u thought i was done infected posting… WRONG

photo credit goes to the amazing robbie buriedgrapes @buriedgrapes

infected design inspiration goes to the person so boring i fall asleep whenever i even talk to them (true fact happened last night and the night before) @unoriginal-and-dumb

if anyone’s curious all my infected pictures were taken at requiem cafe in anaheim!! im a frequent customer there and i highly recommend it to literally anyone who can go, the customer service is amazing and its queer owned and queer friendly!! and very neurodivergent friendly too, theres comfortable seating in the tree lounge with enough space to not feel claustrophobic, the lights are always low which makes it easier to avoid sensory overload, theres lots of textures and colors to look at and feel in all the themes, and theres an item shop with stuffed animals that’s generally much quieter than the main area and plays soft animal crossing music. i know some of the staff personally and they love working there and feel confortable there!!! and beyond all that the drinks and food are just SOOO good. the drinks are generally around 5-8 dollars depending on the size and add-ons you get and the food is around 12-16 dollars. everything on the menu is fantasy/gaming themed with some references to popular fandoms like fnaf and danganronpa!! its located just over the freeway from disneyland & the anaheim convention center!! go check it out!!! give them business!!! they’re wonderful!!! they also do frequent events for fandoms you dont see get public attention much. they just had an owl house event in february and before that they had a persona 5 event in the fall, and between that theyve had little events here and there like a halloween party and a scott pilgrim new year’s celebration. they’re having a homestuck event next month with a ticketed (sold out) 4/13 dance party and a ticketed (still open!) 4/20 trickster rave (i will be at that one!) PLEASE GO GIVE THEM BUSINESS THEY ARE SO AWESOME

bonus:

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#regretevator #infected cosplay #infected #infected regretevator #kasper cosplay #kasper #kasper regretevator #regretevator infected #regretevator kasper #wondercon #wondercon 2024 #requiem #requiem cafe

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fillinforlater · 5 months

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Eleven to One: Pet Play

Male Reader x Choi Yena

Length: 3966 words

Tags: pet play, you knew that, pet/master dynamic, blowjob, bad table manners, indulging in the pet kink, collar and leash, spankingas punishment, undressing, doggy, creampie, sex toys, overstimulation, kitten!Yena

TW: I guess if you don't like kitten Yena...

Inspiration: The great works of @writerpeach and @worldsover. Go check out their work on this specific... let's call it topic.

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being my awesome co-writer and instigator of many BFH-sessions

(A/N: Looks like someone else is added to the family-harem, this time with a bit of an set up. Check out the previous story with the teaser for this one! Oh, and here are all the other chapters. Enjoy!)

"Sho tashty~"

Minju has no table manners, talking with food in her mouth. Well, the 'food' in question is your cock she is feverishly sucking from underneath the table while you and Yujin enjoy a nice, quick breakfast before Yujin has to leave for a group schedule. That's also why Minju is the only one naked, something she is perfectly accustomed to ever since you found the right room temperature for her.

"Before you go, I'll let you know that we have to move into a hotel for a week," you say as Yujin takes her final sip of coffee.

"Why is that?"

"I bought the penthouse below and above us and want to connect them via some automated staircase. I promised the construction company a huge bonus if they finish in a week, so it shouldn't be longer than this. Damn Mr. Kim, I’d love to buy the entire building, but he is too greedy."

"Daddy," Minju asks from below, her soft fingers massaging your balls while she twirls your cockhead. "Why do we need so much space, so many rooms? Isn't this big enough?"

You take a quick glance at Yujin who shakes her head. This is not the right time, don't introduce Minju to the full family plan yet. Especially not when she is busy playing with cock, the only thing on her mind, on her tongue.

"I'll tell you later, Minmin."

"And I'll see you two later," Yujin says and gives you a quick tongue kiss while cupping your cheek. Too bad you can't cup hers because you are busy playing with Minju's hair. That’s not even a first world problem, so you’ll live with it. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too.

"Hey, Minmin, did you drop the bowl on purpose earlier?" you ask with Yujin out the door. Minju looks utterly confused, which is heart-meltingly cute.

"Why would Minmin do that, Daddy?"

"So I'd punish you and make you suck my dick?"

"B-but Minmin can suck your dick just by crawling in your office and opening my mouth. Why would she break Daddy's bowl?"

You laugh a little. This girl is too pure and impure at the same time.

Going on a date without Yujin feels quite odd, you must admit. What's even weirder is that you won't need to do it in secrecy, hidden from literally everyone. Today you just walk into the cafe, a gift underneath your arm and look for your date, a girl with colorful hair. At least she was last seen with light pink strands during a meet and greet.

In the corner of the cafe is a table, in full light of the sunshine, falling in through crystal windows, and at said table is a small person, covered in a bucket hat, sunglasses and a large, black overcoat. Someone who likes to hide their identity to the world, but not you, because a flock of pink hair she flaunts from underneath the hat confirms your suspicion. It is your date.

"Do you mind if I just—"

"Oh, no, please, sit down~"

As you pull back the chair to have a seat, you intently watch the young woman remove her glasses and reveal her face to you. This is your first time seeing the Choi Yena up close in person, and with her gleeful smile, she really looks like a duck or cat or something adorable that you want to cuddle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," you tell her and raise your hand to get the waitress's attention. "Can I invite you for a treat or a beverage?"

"Oh, I'd love to," Yena says, mocking your formal, almost posh way of speaking, before she has a light bulb moment. "Wait, you're very—let’s say well off, right? Can I order whatever I want?"

Now the ducky cat has puppy eyes, for no reason, really. You're here on this friendly date and she seems to have some sort of issue that only a wise person can resolve—of course you'll treat her.

"Get yourself whatever you want, but please." You lean forward and whisper. "Don't order too much. I find it embarrassing if they have to throw good food away."

Yena grins widely and nods, before going on a spree to order all kinds of cupcakes, pastries and milkshakes. You raise an eyebrow and calmly sip your coffee as she digs down sweet treat after sweet treat after sweet treat. To your surprise, she is not only fully capable of eating all of it, but also willing to talk about the most random shit while stuffing her face with sugary goods.

Yena lacks table manners, just like Minju did this morning.

You sit there and listen. Yena mostly talks about her daily life, mixed in with complaints about her company and sudden outbursts of adoration for IVE and their super star Yujin and how happy she is for you two.

Then she goes on tangents about IZ*ONE and what the girls have been up to. She is sad about Wonyoung, who apparently decided to pursue some rich people stuff, just like Hyewon, but when you tell her that you and Hyewon are rather close (yeah, that's all you will tell her for now), she lights up once more.

"Really? I only heard rumors about her new, joined company buying huge shares in Starship. Do you like working for Hyewon-unnie?"

You put your cup of tea down and smile. "Something like that, yeah. But now, Yena, I'm pretty sure you're avoiding something."

"Wha-what do you mean?" Yena sweats profusely, not because the overcoat is too thick, though it is, but because you finally want to get to the point. Why were you here again?

"You know what I mean. The reason you wrote the letter, Yena. You have to tell me why, all I can do is make assumptions."

Yena wraps her lips around the straw of her milkshake and quickly drinks the remaining droplets until she makes this annoying slurping sound that has your temple in scrunches. Before you can complain however, Yena finally speaks up.

"I'll tell you, bu-but can you at least guess what it's about first."

"I can, but I have to warn you, I'm very honest and upfront, no nonsense, I might trample over your feelings or say something absurd, rude even."

Yena blushes and gulps. She is all ears to what you're about to say, which has you confident that your guess is spot on.

"I believe that you are very unsatisfied with your sex life and unsure how to act out the stuff you like, so you try to look for someone with experience who you can trust but is also not in your closessed circle."

"Is it that obvious!?” Yena quickly responds as not to let awkward silence fill a possible void in this conversation.

You nod and Yena throws her hands dramatically into the air. She looks embarrassed and a bit distraught that you were able to look right through her, without shame or hesitation.

However, to your pleasant surprise, she is able to gather herself and speak like a proper grown up about her sexual frustration:

"Yeah, you were spot on. I have a lot of free time in between comebacks and schedules, which is nice and all, but I-I'm unsure about hook ups and scared that someone will... leak stuff. So I wanted to try normal dating, but even among other stars that is so ha-ard. I just want to fu-uck."

"That is very understandable," you say and lean back into the chair, feeling a bit like a therapist with an immorally large bulge in your pants. "But don't you think you could find a very loyal fan, who'd do anything for you, have an NDA ready and go for it? Or maybe you could go out of country, where they don't know you? I bet you still have a lot of options, and with a pretty face like yours, you're bound to find more than enough people to fu-uck."

Yena pouts at you mocking her pronunciation.

"But that's a lot of effort and little guarantee. I want something reliable, in this country and I can’t wait any longer.”

"You want a relationship where you can trust the other person," you summarize. "So... what was your goal with all this? We don't know each other and I'm in a relationship with Yujin. I don't get this from you point of view."

"I-I, it's just that I—I need someone with experience to guide me through this. And I have seen Yujin, her happiness, her smile, the glow around her. That's a woman that has good sex all the time, so please, tell me your secret."

"I'm the secret, Yena. Do you want to take me from Yujin?" You stand up straight, face stern as Yena looks up at you, helpless and needy. "Finish up your milkshake, we'll take this somewhere else. Don't forget your present."

You picked out a nearby hotel, actually the first one that crossed your eyesight. As is often the case, you underestimated how high end these places can actually be. You already consider making this your home for the week your flat becomes unlivable. Minju won’t say anything against it, Yujin though might want something even more posh and polished.

Good thing that you decided to wear that brown thousand dollar suit that makes you look like a mixture between gangster and manager, otherwise bringing a fully costumed stranger with you would have been an eye raiser. Now you're just some less important person bringing a celebrity to their room.

But it's your room, your money, your decision what’s about to happen. Yena walks in after you and stands in the middle of the vast, cozy room, adorned with all kinds of paintings, a carpet on a wooden floor, an impeccable color scheme from the darkest of brown to a soft beige. You sit down on the bed and look at the still dressed idol expectantly.

"Hm, which present do you want to open first: mine or yours?" you ask her, voice in deep thought as Yena removes her glasses once more.

"I-I don't know what you mean by your present but I think I'll open this."

Yena taps the wrapped box nervously, hoping for some kind of reaction from your part, but you leave her hanging and after agonizing seconds she begins to rip into the colorful wrapping paper. Yena opens the lid beneath and her eyes open wide.

"I know what you want, Yena. Don't underestimate me. Be blunt, be honest, most importantly,

"Be my good little pet, hm?"

Yena takes deep breaths when she pulls out a long, silver chain with a leather handle on one end and her favorite collar on the other. There is more inside it though: a pink feeding bowl with a cute kitten on it as well as a bullet vibrator, its cord and remote and a thigh strap.

Yena drops the box and most items on the creme carpet when you put her chin between two of your fingers and tilt it up. She looks dreamy, you must have hit the spot to activate endless sexual possibilities and the urge to succumb to them right now. Honestly, you too have always wondered what it would be like to have a pet cat and now she is right here, ready to purr for you.

"What are you?" you ask, quietly, firmly, unmistakable power in your eyes. Yena melts in your fingers.

"Masters... good pet."

"Very good. After I have opened up my present, I expect my kitten to get into character. Because that is what good kittens do."

Without ever breaking eye contact, you begin to pop open the buttons of Yena's overcoat until it's time for the zipper to open up the curtains. In the meantime Yena loses her hat—maybe her mind along with it. You are in no rush to have her bare before you, after all, you left the world of haste and constant work behind. It's time to indulge in this thrilling moment, feel every second of this new life.

"Wow, what a beautiful kitten I have," you coo when you look at the skimpy stage outfit on Yena's body, a radical contrast to the all covering black of her overcoat which is thrown behind the bed. The shortest of white shorts and a crop top that barely fits her are all that's left to hide Yena's private parts.

"Now, how about I give my kitten the proper accessories, hm? C'mon, get the collar."

She is in a bit of a daze, your kitten, clumsily bowing down and reaching for the chain. Before she can straighten her back, you kick it out of her hand, and sigh deeply in disappointment.

"No, no, no, not like that. Get it like the little kitten you are."

The kick had her stunned, hurt a bit even, but now she knows what to do. Teaching your pet how to behave properly comes first, before any fun tricks can be trained. Yena begins to kneel and crawls to the collar. She picks the leather handle up with her teeth and carries it to you.

"Good girl, you've done very well." Your praise comes with another reward. The tips of your fingers begin to scratch and tickle Yena's chin and she calmly purrs, lays her cheek into your hand, fuck, she isn't even cat coded anymore—

—she is living this.

"Kitten, I have many obligations, you know? Caring for Yujin is a handful too. But you, you'll be a good kitten for your Master, won't you? You'll never cause me any trouble, right?”

Yena responds with rapid nods. From her point of view, you are doing her a huge favor, with or without the approval of Yujin. She thinks you are taking risks and loves you for it. Her devotion is only natural, so you happily offer her a couple of fingers to suck on.

While Yena indulges in getting her drool all over your fingers, you get the tight collar around her throat. It's a good thing that she already sent you this one, a different kind might not have been such a perfect fit. This one looks so natural on her and the thin chain is a great addition.

"My kitten has fine taste. I think she deserves some belly rubs."

If she had a tail, Yena would probably swing it around in excitement. She won't go long without one, you already have plans of buying hundreds of toys for her—well, okay, these "plans" are just now forming, you’ll have to adjust the shopping list later—and a tail is at the top of that list.

Purrs when Yena rolls over playfully, her arms and feet stretched away from her like paws and thanks to that crop top, you have perfect access to her midriff. The moment you touch her navel, she unexpectedly kicks upwards, right into your chest. A stinging pain, one you have to swallow down with a heavy gulp. That's how they are, wild, young, untrained pets.

Nevertheless, they have to be taught properly. A good punishment is an essential part of their training.

"Some lying pet you are!” you snap at her. “How fucking dare you kick your Master!"

Yena wanted to make a deal with the devil, a deal to be your pet. Unlike Minju or even Hyewon, she wants to be your literal property, not your girl, property and not a human. The treatment has to match the deal.

You easily lift the petrified idol-turned-kitten off the ground and place her bend over on your lap. Yena's cute, firm little butt is in your striking zone, while she desperately turns to face you. You hook a finger into her waistband and pull her shorts down to the folds of her asscheeks.

"Are you sorry, Kitten, for kicking your Master?" you ask Yena with a deeply judging tone. She nods with a deeply sorry expression. "Say that you're sorry!"

"I-I'm sorry, Master. I was a dumb kitten." Not enough meows in that sentence, but you will work on that later.

"What do you think you deserve now, kitten?"

"I de-deserve to be punished by Master.”

"That is right, kitten." You barely touch Yena's butt with the tips of your fingers, and she is already stiffening, readying for impact. To her surprise, your digits rather gently dig into her small cheeks and massage them in preparation. "But are you really sorry?"

"Yes, Master, yes I am—ah!"

The first hit always stings the most, to the point where involuntary tears stream down one's face and lips quiver uncontrollably. You don't let your hand rest on the red spot, instead lifting it up and striking again to make Yena's butt sore all over.

"You don't mean these words. I will have to hit you more."

"N-no, please!" Yena tries to push her upper body up but you make sure to keep her down, pinned to your thighs. "Master, I really, really am sorry!"

Another slap, straight on the same spot, enough to make Yena squirm out a pained meow. In the ensuing set of a dozen hits, six on each beautiful ass cheek, your kitten winces more and more, like a cat hurt in the wild. It tugs at your heart strings, surprisingly, but you continue regardless. When the set is finished, your fingers travel down Yena’s creek to her pussy.

"Do you like to be hit, kitten?" you ask calmly, two fingers gliding across Yena's labia, finding her clit. Yena purrs and shakes her head. "Do you think you need more punishment?"

"No, Master. Please, stop. I'll be a good kitten for you. I’m sorry."

Those dreamy, teary, glassy eyes—could they ever lie?

"I believe you.” A small pat on her head. “God, you are very cute, your hair is so silky and your little entrance is already getting wet." You remove your digits and show the tiny strings of arousal that remain in between when you spread them before her eyes.

You take your time, again, no reason to rush. Climb on the bed, watch Yena rest on her knees before it. A light tug at the chain and Yena gets it. Today, she'll be allowed on the bed, just for this special occasion.

"Thank you, Master," she purrs and you comb through the pink, smooth hair. You give her a final smile before getting behind her. Belts and pants have never stopped you from getting what you need, to the point you'll probably disregard them entirely in the future.

This future in your home, with all these girls; Yujin and Minju already live there, Eunbi and Hyewon will surely follow. Chaewon is a wild card, probably a couple of sessions away from any commitment. And then there is Yena.

Will she commit to being your pet full time? Or is this a one off thing for her, to get rid of all the sexual tension you feel on her soaked and hot pussy lips that graze your tip? The extent of her kink is still a mystery to you.

"Relax, my little kitten, here comes your favorite cock.”

How can she know if this is her favorite? It's been ages since something this big and girthy has spread her open, pushed past any tension and made her feel full. Comparing this to those she had in the past is impossible—but not because of the difference in time or position or foreplay.

The comparison fails because your massiveness makes Yena's brain short circuit. All stages of humanity and human behavior are shut off; when your tip presses against her cervix, she goes straight to purring, meowing more than moaning.

Yena is incredibly tight, mostly because this is the first time she has something so big inside her, you assume, so you give her time for adjustments, slow movements, even slower rubs on her back, then her belly.

"Let's get rid of this." And you do get rid of her top, see her small breasts jiggle, the tiny, hard nipples too, when Yena is ready to move on her own.

Her kitten butt moves in a mesmerizing dance, not only a linear back and forth, but a subtle shimmy from side to side. You get to see your cock glazed in her sweet juice, then it disappears in that cavern again. Up to this point, you're just kneeling behind your kitten, undressing further and further, sometime pulling the chain to get her back into that doggy position—it seems that she likes the slow fuck.

"You are such a good kitten," you groan and lean towards Yena's ear until she can't push backwards anymore. "What do you say, next time we're alone, you get some ears and a tail?"

"Bu-but Master," Yena murmurs, face now in the mattress because you start pushing yourself into her. "What about Yujinnie, your girlfriend?"

"Don't you want to stay with us? Get head pats from my good baby girl too?"

Don't give her time to think about it. This revelation of your open and rather complex relationship might have been too early. So thrust harder into her and make the entire bed shake, her brain a useless mush. Yena's toes curl as she bites the sheets below her and lifts her ass a bit higher for easier access. She gets wetter and tighter, a clear sign of enjoyment, of thrill that is soon to be bliss.

Without warning you yank at the chain. Yena chokes hard, quickly getting back into the doggy position which you immediately use to fuck her roughly against the backboard of the bed.

The chain in your hand, the thought of a personal pet and its snug cunt make you greedy for your own orgasm which always comes before hers, however only in terms of relevance. Yena has finally adjusted to your width, length and the harsh grip you exert on her collar. She drools and purrs, until an ultimate, mindless scream leaves her mouth. Her knees begin to buckle as she cums on your length, that pistoning length, in and out of her cunt, completely disregarding her sensitivity.

"Oh, looks like my kitten is wetting herself. Look, you're ruining the sheets! Such a dumb little pet."

Yena doesn't even hear the taunting. She holds onto some pillows, then the backboards, as you applaude her for the resilience by fucking faster and making the pelvis on ass sounds louder and louder.

"Me-me-meow~" Yena's irises disappear in her head. The idol has fully become your kitten; in due time to you surrendering to the tight grip of her cunt by cumming. A day's worth of semen, directly into her womb, and you tell yourself that she is safe today. She has to be, otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to your dick inside her.

"Ma-Master, so much," Yena breathes and her paws try to remove all the sticky hair from her sweaty face.

"You better not spill it on the sheets, kitty. Keep it inside your pussy, all of it." You pull out and immediately get up close with the pink snatch. Yena clenches her muscle, trying to force her pussy to stay shut.

"So, so much—I can't ho-old it!"

With that said, Yena loses some of your precious cream. She just lets it fall out of her in an incredibly lewd display that has you smiling at her embarrassed expression. In a scramble of genius and horniness, you find the bullet vibrator and shove it inside Yena’s cunt before she can ruin more of the bed. Her ensuing moan is music to your ears.

"I guess my kitten is not yet potty trained. We need to change that as soon as we can.

"Wouldn’t you agree?"

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader smut #choi yena smut #yena smut

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