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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

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

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned.

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream.

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment.

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter.

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want.

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy.

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal.

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb.

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated.

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot.

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder.

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty.

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express.

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair.

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong?

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack.

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights?

He’d heard some things about teenagers.

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly.

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen.

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there.

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father.

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap.

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours.

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.”

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers.

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all.

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else.

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts.

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.”

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head.

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket.

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?”

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?”

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted.

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way.

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals.

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought.

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard.

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door.

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop.

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise.

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds.

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand.

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!”

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands.

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly.

“Please.” A pin could drop.

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand.

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver.

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do.

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else.

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle.

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do?

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing.

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?”

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.”

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears.

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle.

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins.

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter.

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly.

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns.

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence.

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?”

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.”

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles.

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly.

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen.

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket.

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around.

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.”

Of course, he’d noticed that, too.

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely.

“What is it?”

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin.

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

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ellemj · 5 months

Text

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 9

Bucky Barnes x Reader

**Read parts 1-8 first for the full effect.**

Summary: You and Bucky find yourselves stuck in a hotel room for the night after being tailed on the way back to the compound. Your game of teasing escalates to something a little more serious than just a game.

Warnings: teasing, dry humping, unprotected sex, mutual pining, profanity, somewhat orgasm denial, edging, fingering, shower sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author's Note: We're getting very close to the end now. I don't know how I feel about it all yet. Thanks again to everyone who's been liking/commenting on/reblogging this series, your support means so much and I'm truly blown away by the love I've received on here over the last few days. I still don't know how the heck it happened but here we all are. Special thanks again to @littlemiss-yeehaw for helping with warnings for this series and saving my ass, and also for reading my trash before I post it lmao.

Bucky doesn’t know when he fell for you. He doesn’t know when his feelings of annoyance turned into feelings of near infatuation. He almost wishes he knew the exact moment, so he could use some kind of Stark technology to go back in time and undo it, but he’s sure you’d just as easily make him fall for you again. He sits silently in a chair in your shared hotel room, watching you intently as you make your way over to him. The straps of your dress hang loosely off your shoulders, your breasts are spilling over the top of the fabric and threatening to escape, and your hair is still a little mussed up from the physical demands of tonight’s mission. With all of that in front of him, he still can’t seem to tear his gaze away from your face. The way you smile as you laugh so softly, your lips parting and the corners turning upward just for him, it makes him feel like he’s just coming out of cryo for the first time. For a moment, the game the two of you have been playing all week is totally forgotten by him. He lets himself pretend just for a moment that you belong to him, that you’re here in this hotel room of your own free will, and you’re walking over to him right now as a girl who wants nothing else but him.

“No answer?” You ask teasingly, coming to a standing stop between his legs. Bucky’s tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip before sucking it between his teeth and biting down on it. His eyes stray from your face, and he takes a few seconds to admire the entirety of you. You see it this time. The pure adoration in his eyes. He isn’t looking at you with some kind of superficial lust or temporary need. No, he’s looking at you with something that screams commitment. He wants you. He wants you beyond one night in a safe house, beyond one night in a hotel after a mission-gone-sideways. You see it in his eyes and yet, you don’t hear that familiar voice in your head telling you to run for the hills. You feel something between the two of you, tugging you closer and closer.

Bucky realizes he’s been staring. He realizes that you’ve been watching him stare. He should probably say something to answer your question. You asked him if he was still hard. But why answer it out loud when he doesn’t have to? He leans forward in the chair suddenly, trailing his fingertips up the sides of your thighs as he looks up with you. Fuck, when he looks up at you like that you could just melt right into the floor. The room is beginning to feel way too hot, but its contrasting with the cool temperature of his vibranium fingertips on your skin and you kind of like it. Bucky lets his hands slide behind your thighs now, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. You brace your hands on his shoulders as he pulls you forward by his hold on the backs of your thighs, guiding you to spread your legs and straddle his lap in the chair. Every single nerve ending in your skin is on fire, so much so that you hear fire alarms going off in your mind. What the hell are the two of you doing? There’s no chemical influencing you this time, no severe pain forcing you to keep going just to find some relief. So, why are you straddling your almost completely naked partner in a hotel room right now?

Because you fucking want to.

You fully relax on his lap now, and that’s when you feel just how hard he is beneath you. You can make out the outline of his cock as it presses firmly against your still bare pussy. Your panties are still sitting on top of his suit jacket in the bathroom, thankfully. Bucky runs his hands up and down your thighs, his fingertips grazing over the hem of your dress.

“You’re sitting on your answer.” His voice is low and tense, full of anticipation. He knows where he wants this to go, but he doesn’t know where your head is really at right now. Do you want the same thing? Do you want him in the same way that he wants you or are you just playing the game? He’s dying to know, but the man sucks at emotional communication. He’d never outright ask you. Thus, he’s determined to fuck it out of you.

“I am.” You respond breathily. You know you shouldn’t do it, but you can’t help yourself. You tighten your grasp on his shoulders and grind down against his cock, closing your eyes as you focus on how good the sudden friction feels between your legs. As much as he wants to throw you down on the bed and do whatever it takes to make you scream his name, he lets you have control for now. He watches you closely as you continue grinding your wet cunt back and forth along his clothed cock, your face contorting with pleasure, your chest rising and falling quickly as you let out the quietest little moans.

“Is that all you need?” Bucky asks, sliding his hands up until they’re resting on your hips. You want to say yes but fuck it, why lie?

“No…” Your voice comes out soft and gentle. You slow your grinding movements as you lean down and press your lips to his jawline. “I need more.” Bucky clenches his jaw and you feel the muscle there contracting beneath your kisses. Will he give you more? Of course he fucking will. He’ll give you anything.

“You need more…” His voice trails off and you feel his flesh hand leaving your hip, ghosting over your thigh, and finding its way beneath the thin fabric of your dress between your legs. “Here?” He asks, letting his fingertips glide over your clit. You feel the sensitive nerves there igniting and joining the rest of your body in flames. Nodding your head, your grind down against his hand, losing your mind over how good it feels.

“Fuck.” You moan the word out slowly. Bucky’s in heaven. Or almost in heaven. He sits there underneath you, watching as you get yourself off on his hand, using your pretty voice to tell him how good it feels. He’s teetering on the edge of obsession at this point. In one swift move, he steals his hand away from where you need it most and grips your thighs as he rises from the chair. His name leaves your lips in a squeal as he lays you back on the bed, crawling over you so he doesn’t have a chance to miss the feeling of your body against his.

“Have you thought about this as much as I have?” His question alone feeds the fire inside you. You let your hands travel up his sides until they find their way to his jawline, then you pull him down to your mouth. Holy shit. You forgot how good he tastes. You forgot how good he is with his tongue. You refuse to stop kissing him even to take a breath. When he finally pulls back from you, you gasp for air, your cheeks and nose blushing pink as he stares down at you.

“I’ve thought about this every single day.” You admit, trying to pull him back down for another kiss. He fights your advance, and instead pushes himself off of the bed.

“Get up.” He orders you, taking a few steps toward the bathroom but keeping his eyes on you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, narrowing your eyes at him. What the fuck is he up to?

“Was all of that seriously just a tease?” You demand to know. There’s no way he did all of that and he’s just going to walk away from you now, all as a part of that fucking teasing game you’ve been playing all week.

“No, I’m going to fuck you in the shower.” He says plainly, tilting his head toward the door. Your eyes widen as the sound of the running water meets your ears. You totally forgot you left it running a few minutes earlier. He gives you every chance to refuse, but a refusal never once crosses your mind as you push yourself up off of the bed and follow him into the bathroom.

---

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Profanities play on repeat in your mind as you’re pinned against the shower wall, with one of your legs hitched up around Bucky’s hip and his cock driving into you like it’s the first time he’s been with a woman in this century and he’s been starved of pleasure. You’re trying so hard to stay upright against him, but he’s been fucking you so hard for so long that you’re already one orgasm in and he’s yet to come undone inside you.

“I’m not going to let you fall, baby. Trust me.” Bucky whispers against your ear, letting his forehead rest on the tiled shower wall beside your head. How is he always reading your mind? He slows his thrusts and starts focusing on his depth and angle instead of his speed. Suddenly, he hits a spot inside you that has you crying out his name with such desperation that he feels his cock twitch harder than it ever has before. “Shit, I need to hear that again.” He groans, thrusting into you in the exact same way he did a second before. His name begins falling from your lips like a prayer as you pepper kisses across his neck and shoulder. Your second orgasm is closing in when he slows once more, feeling how tight your walls are clenching around him and knowing you’re close.

“Bucky, stop being a tease.” You moan, pushing your forehead against his shoulder in exasperation. He chuckles and it sends a chill down your spine.

“I’m not teasing you. I’m dragging this out because…” He stops mid-sentence to thrust into you, hard. You gasp and bite down on his shoulder before he stills himself again. “I’ve thought about doing this to you the whole damn week.”

“Why didn’t you just do it?” You ask. Why didn’t he? He never once knocked on your door or made a real move. He just teased you and acted annoyed with your avoidance of him all week. “I live right across the hall from you.”

“Fuck, I know. But you’ve been avoiding me, acting like you were scared that I was falling in love with you since that night.” Bucky starts grinding his cock into you in slow circles, just feeling you. His hands are balled up in fists against the shower wall beside your head. Right. You forgot that that’s why he thought you were avoiding him. Truly though, it never really crossed your mind that he might’ve been falling for you. You were just scared that you were falling for him.

“I’m sorry.” That’s the first time he’s ever heard an apology leave your lips, meant just for him. Not that you’ve ever owed him one before, but something about seeing your walls broken down in front of him like this scratches at his heart. He doesn’t ever want to hear you apologize again. Besides, you don’t need to be saying sorry right now. He was falling in love with you. If that’s why you were avoiding him, then you were right, and he didn’t see any reason why you should be apologizing.

“No, no, don’t say that.” He mumbles against your shoulder. He starts thrusting his cock into you with the most shallow thrusts, and it’s driving you insane. What he wants to say next is you were right, I was falling in love with you. But of course, he doesn’t say that. Instead, he straightens up and crashes his lips into yours, saying everything that he wants to say with a passionate, burning kiss. The moment escalates to Bucky holding you up, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and his cock fucking you into the shower wall so hard that you’re seeing stars behind your tightly closed eyes. You lose every inhibition as you climb the mountain to your second orgasm, you lose every fucking thought in your head that would keep you from saying the most vulnerable, revealing thing you could possibly say as you both race toward a breaking dam.

“I’ve been falling since that night.” You say between moans. The words float around the air between the two of you and for a moment, you’re not even sure if they actually came out of your mouth. Your voice sounded so far away when you said it. You expect Bucky to slow down, maybe even to stop fucking you entirely, since you’ve just done the stupid emotional thing and mixed sex with feelings. However, Bucky only speeds up, thrusting into you with so much need and want that his orgasm comes barreling at him before he has a chance to pull out.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” He groans against your lips, pressing soft kisses against them after the words have left his mouth. He continues to move his hips into you, coaxing your orgasm right to the edge before snaking his hand between the two of you and rubbing small circles against your clit until you cum so hard that he can feel your entire body shaking between him and the wall.

I’ve been falling since that night. Fuck, that’s everything he wanted to hear.

Next Part

TAG LIST:

@sarcastickiddo @donttalktosposts @marygoddessofmischief @its-daydreamer23 @gyokujyn @kandis-mom @alicia-bman @sdddoobydoobydoo @a-rotten-chicken-nugget @buckysbvtch3 @charmedbysarge @hensawweston @black-cat-2 @just-act-natural @phoenixstark1708 @ladyvenera @bubblevicioussss @larajadeschmidt13 @crist1216 @joannaromanoff @jenniferpendragon @i-will-always-kneel-for-smut @justafangirl @sydneylaufeyson22 @yourmidnightlover @claireelizabeth85 @multifandom-girlie @keyrani @hhiggs @bambamwolf87 @mrsjoequinn @abitofblues @takeyour-pants-off @buckysbaby-doll @buckbuckybuckaroo @kingfleury @fandomsfeminismandme @purplecolordeer @dear-lolita @dreamlandcreations @imabasicbean @hereticdance @mrs-marc-spector @renatas10 @addymackie @cjand10 @ordelixx @reguluscrystals @bellatrixskr

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut

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gatitties · 2 months

Note

hi so can you do a fic where The straw hats thought we died but when they retuned to scabaody we also come back?

Like the straw hats are like

WAIT YOUR NOT DEAD? HUH

─Strawhats x reader

─Summary: Everything seems to fall apart before their eyes when you die, only to find out that you were enjoying yourself in Sabaody and not in your grave.

─Warnings: none

lmao this was fun to write for no reason 😭🤌🏻

The loss of a loved one is a difficult battle, everyone on this crew has experienced at least one death of a family member or someone close to them to call them family, they hoped that pain would not damage their hearts again, unfortunately, you shattered their hearts when they found your limp body on Sky Island when you decided to go your own way.

With their hearts in their throats and their eyes red, they had to say goodbye to you bitterly, burying your body in a cluster of soft clouds, they were silent for a minute until Luffy was the first to give the signal to leave, he knew you would have liked that they were not so sad and that their adventures had not yet ended like yours.

They lamented your lack of presence, you always made everything a little more enjoyable with your nonsense, you managed to fit in perfectly with each of them and although you were not the smartest, most cunning or powerful on the team, they did not expect your early departure.

It was when they arrived at Sabaody for the first time that they thought they were going crazy, thinking that they had gotten over your loss, someone strangely like you seemed to be hanging around that island.

Luffy could clearly see how you were riding some attractions, Nami was confused when she saw you trip over a huge root, Chopper thought that the smell of disinfectant had made him hallucinate and see you eating cotton candy, Usopp simply thought he saw a ghost, Brook thought you came back from the dead to exact revenge when he saw you beating up a couple of guys who seemed to bother you, Franky could only catch your laugh, but it was so similar that he thought his brain was playing tricks on him, Zoro and Sanji bumped into you, but neither you nor they were paying attention as something bigger was catching everyone's attention and practically everyone was jostling each other.

While, oblivious to all the suffering, pain and coping that your companions had to do, you woke up buried in clouds a while ago, managing to get down and reach Sabaody miraculously like a stowaway on another pirate ship, you had planned to look for them and scold them a little for thinking you were dead, but your plans were thwarted when you found the island too much interesting, well, you had been 'dead' for a while, it was okay if you enjoyed a little time at the attractions before looking for your companions.

The thing is that you got so distracted and forgot to find them, if it weren't for the fact that, coincidentally, Jinbe ─who you didn't know since you didn't get to know him─ recognized you from the brief conversations they had with him about you, he was waiting in the queue to buy something and you were just behind, you started a chat to kill time.

"You look terribly like a person who died in the crew I'm part of now, I mean, because of the descriptions they made."

"Oh…"

The blood on your face disappeared at his words, remembering now that you had a crew to return to, and that in fact you were that supposedly dead person, you laughed nervously, wanting to resume your search, although there was no need.

"Hey, Jinbe, here! We were looking for you."

You blinked like an owl as you saw Luffy greet him with his characteristic smile, calming down as you saw the others walking a little further behind calmly, you smiled fondly when you saw them, making eye contact for a second with your captain as you sipped the drink you had gotten before, he casually greeted you by saying your name and you waved back, focused on finishing your drink.

"Wait a moment, you…" he narrowed his eyes looking at you again, drawing the attention of the others "Are you the twin of our dead comrade!?"

You choked on your own drink, Chopper patting you on the back.

"No uh- in fact it's me, the original, only and loved-"

"WEREN'T YOU DEAD!?"

You covered your ears when you heard Nami's scream, your tongue went dry and your body seemed to get smaller when you saw her gaze, everyone had different emotions reflected ─Luffy and Zoro were still a little confused because they really thought you have a twin─ but Nami was the most furious, she started hitting and pushing you.

"GIVE ME BACK THE TEARS I SHED FOR YOU!"

"AW, OH, SORRY!? YOU LEFT ME FOR DEAD!"

You ran in circles avoiding the navigator, protecting your head from her light blows while you apologized for not having warned that you 'rose from the dead'.

"Well, who knows, maybe it's a zombie."

"Robin, you're not helping me."

You whimpered, hiding behind Sanji and Franky, waiting for Nami to calm down, it wasn't a reunion like you planned ─you didn't plan anything─ but everyone felt a little relieved, leaving behind the bitterness of losing a partner and enjoying your company now that you were with them again.

#op #one piece #one piece x reader #strawhats #strawhats x reader #request #reader insert #sfw

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talaok · 1 year

Note

I don’t know why this request popped into my head but Spencer wanting to get BAU reader flowers for Valentine’s Day but they’re working and the team don’t know about them yet so Spencer, the sweetheart he is, he’s like ok I’ll just get all the girls flowers. And the girls are like wow that’s so sweet but Morgan’s like ‘funny, you didn’t do this last year, or the year before, why now?’ And just becomes really suspicious and starts investigating lmao

I love this. you're a genius.

Flowers

Spencer had been nervous about it for the whole week.

He knew it was stupid, but you know that voice in your head that keeps reminding you that it isn't stupid and that you should worry, probably even more than you're doing now because this is a huge fucking deal even if it's really not?

well,

that voice had had the best of him.

He had thought about it for a long time,

about all the possibilities and the related outcomes,

he had thought about surprising you later, after work, but then again, that meant seeing you at the office and having to pretend like he had forgotten, hence, hurting your feelings.

so that was a no.

He even thought about not coming into work, just make up some excuse to hotch and not show up.

but that didn't feel right,

and so it had come to the last possibility,

The best way to hide something is in plain sight, right?

__ __ __

he was sweating.

it was ridiculous how much he was actually stressing over this, but still, there he was, his forehead glistening, his tie too tight around his throat, and four diffrent bouquets in his hands,

well, not exactly diffrent,

only one of them was,

the most important one,

and he had already thought of the excuse as to why it was y/n's,

he was gonna say the truth,

or better, part of it.

See the thing was that he knew her favorite flowers,

Dahlias, she loved dahlias,

pink ones to be exact,

he remembered the moment she had told him, that day at the park, the sun shining on their faces, as their bare feet brushed the fresh grass,

He remembered finding it interesting that she would choose a flower that's also the symbol of one of America's most famous unsolved murders, and he recalled her turning to him, and as if she had read his mind telling him that she liked the flower even more because of that,

"it's not fair that just because one case has been named the black dahlia then all of the sudden all of those amazingly wonderful flowers lose their beauty. That's not how it works. The dahlia is only more beautiful now because even after all that, she remains unfazed, and so does her beauty"

And he remembered having kissed her,

because if there was one person able to think that way,

it was her.

And so she obviously had bought her those, while for the rest of the women he had opted for some red roses,

witch to the untrained eye may have looked like a much more romantic option, but trust me, after all those comments about how much she hated them, Spencer had got the hint she didn't like them.

Ding

The elevator's door opened

Ok, it's fine Spencer, it's fine, you can do this.

he took a deep breath as he pushed open the glass doors, immediately noticing the team already in the conference room.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply once more before entering the room.

"oh wow" Jj immediately commented, eyeing the flowers

"pretty boy" morgan grinned "you're really showing off huh?"

He felt his cheeks warm, but smiled nonetheless, everyone else was.

He could feel your eyes on him, and as he glanced at you, just as he had expected, he took in the twitch of your lips as they turned up in that cute way they always did, and his heart skipped a beat.

"well" he cleared his throat "since it's valentine's day I wanted to do something nice for all the wonderful women of the office" he explained "and even though, as a recent study showed, chocolate is the most common gift, In fact, approximately 48% of people who celebrate valentine's day gift chocolates" he stopped a moment to noticed every amused or questioning expression staring back at him, before continuing" but, anyway, I liked the idea of flowers better, "he smiled shyly "so- yeah" he looked down at the bouquets as he turned to his left "Emily, this is for you," he said, handing the roses to her, and earning a big smile and thank you from Prentiss, "JJ, "he said walking up to her "happy valentine's day," he said as she took the flowers "thank you" she grinned at him "I hope Will isn't gonna be jealous" she joked, and spencer laughed softly before finally turning to you.

The moment your eyes met, something traveled between them, a mutual understanding, a mutual sparkle going from him, straight to you.

"And these are for you y/n," he said "happy valentine's day"

You smiled, looking down at the flowers "dahlias"

"How could I forget?" he blushed, and you couldn't help but throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, as you closed your eyes, lost in his scent.

"thank you Spence" you whispered, before remembering where you were and reluctantly leaning away, he was beaming when you did, and your heart warmed.

"are the other ones for my baby girl?" Derek asked, and spencer frowned, confused before realizing, "oh- yes, they're for Penelope" he said"I actually wanted to give them to her now if it isn't a problem" he turned to Hotch, and he nodded slightly before saying "make it quick" to witch spencer immediately answered "absolutely" before starting towards the door

"wait"

he turned around

"I'll come with you" you said before you could stop yourself

__ __ __

"so that was.." morgan chuckled

"what? it's nice" Emily came to his defense

"yeah Derek what are you talking about?" jj chirped in

"Rossi? Hotch?" he turned to them

"I think he's just jealous his baby girl is getting flowers from another man" Emily joked, making jj laugh

"what you don't find it even a bit weird?" he was facing Rossi now, who shrugged, " if there's one thing all my wives have taught me is that women love flowers"

JJ and Emily laughed softly at that

"hotch?"

"I think it's nice"

Derek sighed deeply "yes but doesn't anybody find it a little strange that he only did it this year?"

"Derek-" JJ shook her head

"What, we've been working together for 5 years, and now all of a sudden he gifts roses on valentine's day? You can't tell me that's strange"

There was a moment of silence

"maybe he just wanted to do something nice" Hotch intervened

"yes but why now?" Morgan asked "don't tell me you haven't asked yourself that"

Emily sighed "Even if you're right, even if it's strange. What are you tryna say?"

"I'm just saying there has to be a reason, that's all" he explained, sitting on his chair

"like what?" emily asked

"i dunno"

another moment of silence

"well he has been acting weird lately" JJ spoke up, and the whole room turned toward her

"Weird how?" Hotch asked, seemingly worried

"Nothing big he's just been busy a lot that's all" she shrugged " we haven't hung out in a while because he has always someplace to go to"

"yeah that's true" Emily agreed "even last night he said he had something to do didn't he?"

"yup"

"Maybe the kid just goes to a new chess tournament " Rossi joked

" I knew something was up" Derek mumbled

"but it still doesn't make sense. What does he blowing us off have to do with the flowers?" JJ asked

Derek's mind worked fast as he pieced all the clues together, all the glares, blushes, and smiles finally coming together.

"well," he got up again "who do you give gifts to on valentine's day?"

"your partner"

"Exactly" he nodded "but what if, and this is hypothetical, you couldn't give them to them directly because let's say nobody knows about you two. Then what do you do?"

Emly chuckled "you give them to everyone else too"

"Exactly" Derek grinned

"wait" Jj waved her hand in disbelief "are you saying-?" she couldn't even finish the sentence and just pointed blankly at your seat

Derek raised his eyebrow "I mean it would make sense wouldn't it?"

Emily smiled "it sure would"

"let's not get ahead of ourselves " Hotch intervened "this is all just speculation, it could all still be just a nice gesture"

"Hotch's right "Rossi agreed "we can't be sure of anything"

And just as he pronounced those words you and Spencer walked through the door, and as much as they were all trying to be professional, and respecting of whatever privacy you might have wanted,

it was very hard not to notice the pink on both your cheeks, or the way your lips looked somehow a lot more swollen than before, and spencer's collar definitely not as straight as it was just a few minutes before.

And what was even harder to not notice, was the big beautiful bouquet of red roses Spencer was still holding.

Derek grinned way too smugly as he witnessed everyone around the table come to the same conclusion he had just moments before,

and as Spencer finally spoke over the terrifying silence, asking "What's up?" He couldn't help but respond "nothing" he eyed the bouquet he was still holding "We were just talking about how much Penelope likes roses"

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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gimmeurtmi · 2 years

Text

code name: brat? — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, dom/sub dynamic, good girl gone bratty, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, dom!minho, phone sex, edging, roleplay, reader is into minho wearing the police uniform, light choking, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation a bit, angsty, use of "good girl", "brat", "sir", some light degradation, praising, lmk if i forgot any!

inspo: the making of case 143, 11:48. and just.. minho in that outfit.

notes: i got soooo carried away with this. it's also completely self indulgent lmao but yeah. also--cops are not attractive to me, lee minho is. thanks.

{ wc: 7531 }

it was normal for you to text your boyfriend throughout the day—his work and yours meaning it was only rare you got to spend most of the day together. so the pair of you usually told the other what you were getting up to via text and pictures, to feel closer to each other.

however, it was less normal for you to react so… physically to one of his completely normal texts.

you were having lunch with your friends, a small buzz from your phone pulling you away from the conversation momentarily.

bunny<3: this outfit is stupid but at least it’s one of the comfiest ones we have this shoot

and attached below was a picture of him dressed as a police officer. he took it in front of a mirror, so you could clearly see exactly how the outfit looked on him.

in your opinion, it was anything but stupid. the tan coloured trousers sat beautifully around his thighs, even if they were baggy, but your eyes immediately went to the thick chain around his neck and the inappropriate thoughts it provoked into your brain.

you: don’t look stupid at all. how’s the shoot going?

bunny<3: smooth so far. you think it looks alright?

you: yeah nice

you replied, trying your best to show some decorum. you didn’t want to thirst over your boyfriend to his face; he would never let you hear the end of it.

you got back to your conversation, adding your opinion on your friend’s enormous crush on their co-worker, but then your phone buzzed again.

you opened up another message from your boyfriend, a second picture attached.

it was a picture of his lap, his thighs spread over a leather seat, you guessed he was sitting in a car, and in front of his lap was his hand holding a pink heart. it had a face on it, and you recognised it as a new visual concept of their comeback.

bunny<3: i took pipi hostage

you: oh is that his name?

you: what are your terms of releasing the poor fluffy thing?

you: also why are you in a car i thought it was a long shoot today

bunny<3: give me a kiss and i’ll release him

bunny<3: i am in a car for work purposes

and attached was a picture of minho leaning against a police car, changbin in the background wearing a similar outfit. he didn’t look nearly as good as minho.

he had his hands stuffed into his pockets, accentuating his thighs as well as his forearms.

you almost felt the need to grab his biceps tightly like you did in much more intimate settings.

then, for no reason other than to torment yourself, you swiped back to the previous picture he sent, spending a precious amount of time taking in the way his lap looked so inviting, the way his fingers wrapped around the pink plush, the way you wished his fingers were on you, or in you, at that very exact moment.

you: oh my god

is the best you could reply with, quickly locking your phone to focus on the conversation around you. you had no idea what your friends were talking about.

bunny<3: ?

you: you just look very nice

bunny<3: thanks.

you: are you gonna be wearing that outfit often?

bunny<3: probably. why?

you took in a big breathe, daring yourself to be bold, and quickly typed out the following message.

you: we need to find a time for you to fuck me in that outfit.

you shoved your phone in your pocket straight after.

it was only after you ordered dessert, some forty minutes later, that he replied.

bunny<3: are you serious?

you: haha of course not :)

bunny<3: if you are, be honest

you: yeah, serious

bunny<3: why?? does the outfit turn you on?

you: why am i being honest if you’re judging me???

bunny<3: i’m not judging you baby i just don’t understand

you: maybe i’m imagining some cheesy porn storyline

bunny<3: fucking your way out of a ticket?

you: oh god yeah

bunny<3: my good girl imagining herself getting in trouble..?

bunny<3: so not like you

you: but that outfit, min… you look so so good in it

bunny<3: you’re never bratty though

you: who said i’d be bratty? if i got in trouble i’d be so so good just to get out of it

bunny<3: so you’d still be good for me?

you: always <3

bunny<3: i gotta get back to work my love. but don’t stop yourself from sharing some more of these wonderful thoughts

bunny<3: i love when your mind comes up with dirty shit

at that you pulled your phone away, smiling to yourself, and earning a comment about how whipped you were. you rolled your eyes bashfully. they were not wrong.

after getting through your day you were back home, under your warm blanket. the cats were playing away in the other room, as was evident by the meows echoing through the walls of your otherwise empty flat. minho still wasn’t home, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find other ways to entertain yourself.

you still had the pictures he sent you after all.

you let your imagination wander, thinking about what his outfit was doing to you—and feeling it, too. your body was on fire as you touched yourself, imagining it was him instead with the tight black shirt on. imagining you were pulling him closer by his big black vest.

you decided it was wrong of you to be selfish.

you: thinking of riding you in the back of that police car while you wait to bring me into the station

you didn’t get an answer, and you doubt you would anytime soon. to make it just a little more interesting, though, you snapped a picture of your lap—your hand disappearing into your underwear.

bunny<3: i don’t quite remember telling you you could touch

you: oh, didn’t realise it was against the law to make myself cum while my boyfriend is too busy to do it for me

bunny<3: think of your next words carefully.

bunny<3: are you still touching?

you knew that was his way of telling you to stop, but really, it just made you go faster. there was something incredibly exciting about not listening to him for once. about breaking the rules.

you: yes. it feels so good, too. rubbing my clit thinking about you and your gorgeous hands..

you: bet you look soooo good dancing in that outfit too.

as if he knew you’d say that, a video came through next—of minho and his dance partners, felix and hyunjin, practicing their choreography while the crew were moving a few props in the background.

minho was counting them down, and you barely even realised there were two other people dancing in the video next to him. your eyes were glued to him, to his body, to his intense stare as he moved in perfect sync with his partners. the chain around his neck bounced a bit as he moved. and god, his hair was so beautiful in this new style.

you wanted to pull on it as he buried himself inside you.

you: fuck when are you coming home

bunny<3: not until wednesday baby, don’t you remember?

bunny<3: we’re staying in a hotel close to the location

you: oh goddd you should’ve told me that before i made myself all horny for you :(

bunny<3: play stupid games win stupid prizes

you: can i cum before you get back?

bunny<3: so now you’re asking for permission?

you could almost see the raise of his brows in front of you.

bunny<3: i don’t care what you do

you: …what

next came a voice recording.

“hey, jagi. you know you can always do what you want,” he said sweetly, his voice low as he spoke close to the phone, “but we can play this game? i didn’t mean that to come off rude, i’m just trying to understand what part of this police thing you like,” he giggled softly. “also, i miss your face. can we talk about this over facetime in like twenty minutes?”

“yeah, of course,” you recorded back, “i need to make some food anyway.”

after you cleaned yourself up and started getting a few things ready for dinner, your phone rang with an incoming facetime call from your boyfriend.

“heeeey,” he smiled widely, taking in your features as you placed the phone next to the stove.

“hey,” you smiled, and the pair of you started telling each other all about your days and what you got up to in the time between your texts.

“so..” he said, taking a moment to look around himself and make sure he was indeed alone. “tell me more about your weird kink, then.”

you could feel yourself blushing slightly, but it was only minho, so you couldn’t really be that embarrassed in front of him.

“stop judging me,” the pair of you laughed, “i just think you look good in it.”

“so it’s just the outfit?” he tried to confirm, “or do you want me to lean in it?”

“lean into it like how?”

“like…” he trailed off, taking a moment to lick his lips as he smirked at you, “if you don’t want to spend the night in jail you should give me what i want.”

“you’re a pervert,” you giggled at him.

at that, minho raised his eyebrows at you—thinking the only conclusion that made sense was that you were the pervert, actually.

“so what are you eating then?” he changed the subject gracefully, focusing instead on your movements around the kitchen. you were making the only dish you knew how to—minho was better at cooking than you—and while he suggested a few things to add you almost forgot about the Thing you two were talking about earlier.

it wasn’t until you put your dishes away and cleaned after yourself that he brought it up again.

“if i do steal this outfit,” he started, “you have to make it worth my efforts.”

“is that a threat, min?”

“it can be,” he smirked. “think we can break your record if i steal it?”

the record, of course, was referring to the night your boyfriend made you cum five times in a row before you had to push him off—and ever since that achievement, he’s been trying to find ways to get all the way up to a sixth.

you hummed a little, unconsciously bringing your finger up to your lips.

“maybe,” you said softly.

“it might be easier for us if you behave while i’m gone,”

“i always behave, min,” you chuckled.

“you weren’t earlier when you sent me that picture,” he reminded you with a firm gaze.

“so, basically, you’re asking me not to touch myself until you get back in three days?”

“if you’re even capable of that,” he teased.

“shut up,” you said, the urge to kiss him through the screen overwhelming you slightly. but that was an urge you were quite used to with the kind of schedule he had.

“so, okay?” he asked, softly, to confirm you indeed wanted to play whatever game the two of you were about to get into.

“sure. i mean, you know i’ll tell you if i don’t want to,” you smiled.

he smiled back, so softly, his eyes swimming with what could only be described as adoration.

“of course. i just like checking you’re all good, jagi.”

“i know.” you couldn’t bring the smile off your face, and the pair of you concluded your hour long chat as you crawled back into your shared bed.

“goodnight, my love,” he said softly, as he nuzzled into his pillow—mirroring you.

“goodnight. have fun shooting tomorrow!”

you did your best to behave. you always did with minho, that’s the kind of effect he had on you, but the more you thought about it—the more you wanted to be bad. to break his rules and see just how he’d punish you. you didn’t often defy him and his requests, so punishments were so rare from him. it was part of being so obedient that you liked, but something just made you restless with the thought of not listening.

so the next time minho facetimed you, you decided to be bold.

“hey!” he said with a smile, his makeup from the shoot still on. he must’ve called you as soon as he got back to his room.

you didn’t say anything back, instead, you reversed the camera and showed him your lap again.

“baby, you’re not on front facing,” he pouted, oh so cutely. but you knew he’d change his attitude in three seconds.

you spread your legs in front of him, his eyebrows frowning at you curiously as he watched. you decided this was the best idea ever as you had his face right in front of you, seeing his reaction, while all he could see was the hand on your crotch.

“jagiya?” he tried, but all you did in response was sink a finger into your heat. you let out a soft moan, one you knew he could hear with how close the microphone was to your face.

“oh my god, what are you doing?”

so you added another finger.

“baby, this is the opposite of what i told you to do,” he said firmly, so you moved your fingers quickly—making sure to capture the scene as best you could.

he was enjoying the show, you could tell by the way he was biting his lip as he looked on mesmerised by your movements.

“not gonna be a brat, my ass,” he mumbled with a smirk.

“turn your camera around, now.” his tone was so firm, the obedient side of you couldn’t ignore it, so you quickly sat up and followed his order.

“what the fuck was that?”

“what?” you faked innocence.

“i leave you alone for two days and you’re a needy brat now?” you tried so hard not to smirk. “can you answer me?”

“i was just having fun,” you shrugged.

“you know you don’t have fun without me,” he said, the cockiness in his voice making you clench around your fingers. “besides, jagi, i told you not to.”

“and i decided i don’t care what you said,” you said, simply.

minho’s eyebrows shot right up to his hair. you have never spoken back to him like that before.

“what the fuck,” he mumbled.

an immense sense of pride took over you as you left the lee minho speechless. but it was short lived.

“so you’re trying to get in trouble now,” you nodded with a smirk, “get that bratty smile off your face.”

you giggled, pulling your fingers out slowly. a small gasp followed your actions, minho clearly knowing what you just did—and before he could praise you for listening, you dipped your fingers into your mouth and sucked the wetness off them.

“if only you could taste how wet i am, min.”

he brought a hand to his hair, pulling on the dark blue strands. minho had no idea where this was coming from, and the shock on his face made it all so much better. so much more exciting.

“okay,” he said, somewhat calm, “are you done, did you get it out your system?”

“maybe,” you said.

“can you go back to listening to me?”

“not if you’re gonna be all boring and tell me i can’t do what i want,” you pouted.

“and what do you want to do, brat?” he never called you that—he only ever praised you. but you liked this name just as much.

“i wanna edge,” you sighed.

“what?” he laughed, “why the fuck do you think i’m gonna let you do that now, after your little show?”

“well, because i didn’t ask you. i just answered your question.”

“oh my god,” minho let you out. you could tell how much this was frustrating him, how much this was getting under his skin. and you loved it.

he took a moment to compose himself, licking over his lips before he smirked. it was the kind of smirk that made you think you were definitely gonna lose this round, but you promised yourself you’d be strong.

“you know you’re only doing this because i’m not there. you’d be on your knees in seconds if i was in front of you. it’s cute that you’re being brave, baby, but we both know you’re trying so hard not to listen to me.”

“there’s not much to listen to, min,” you swallowed slowly, “it’s not like you’re telling me what to do instead.”

“you’re not gonna manage to rope me into your little bratty game, babe.”

“i’m not playing a game, sir,” you said, just to mess with him, “all i’m doing is touching my clit.”

“and if i told you to get your pink vibe and start edging?” he smirked.

it was some reverse psychology, you knew, but at least it was better than being told not to touch. so you quickly grabbed the vibe and turned it on.

“like this?” you said, breathy, as you touched the toy to your pussy.

“yeah, baby, put it on the lowest setting for me and move it slowly.”

you nodded, doing as you were told, and minho smiled at you. it was almost as if he was relieved. but then, you pressed the button, the vibrations getting louder.

“i don’t remember that setting being so noisy, darling,” he clicked his tongue.

“it’s on six,” you let out as you swallowed more air.

“is six the lowest?”

“no,” you chuckled, rubbing the toy in slow circles around your bud.

“you’re gonna get a lot more than you can handle if you keep up with this nonsense,” he warned.

“sounds like a promise, min,” you smiled, the knot in your stomach tightening, “fuck!”

your chest rose up and down quickly, the camera still focused on your face. minho was staring you down, his gaze almost making you forget about the vibrations against you and how close you were getting already. he always made you forget about everything that wasn’t him when he managed to look at you like that. like he forgets about everything else, too.

“close?” he asked lowly.

“yeah,” you sighed.

“how many edges are you gonna do tonight?” he asked. you couldn’t answer him yet, as your high was getting closer and closer and closer. you had to pull away soon—before the knot would snap and you’d start cumming, but you just pressed the vibe harder against you as a moan escaped past your lips.

“pull away,” minho whispered. you could feel the knot so strongly, it was just about to break, and then you pulled away quickly and snapped your eyes open.

you breathed in and out, feeling the rush leave your body slowly as you caught your breath.

“good job,” he said sweetly. you smiled proudly at him—nothing felt quite as good as your boyfriend praising you, and he knew how much you loved it. he knew you loved it too much to keep disobeying him for too long.

“so how many, baby?” he asked again.

you looked at him, your mind blank as you thought it over. you were already out of your depth, you realised, when you understood the only reason you couldn’t pull away early enough was because you were waiting for minho to tell you to.

you weren’t that good at this bratty stuff.

“i, um,” you began. and that’s when minho flipped his camera around.

he had shorts on, the kind he wore when he was lounging, but they were pulled down to his thighs. you felt your mouth water at the sight of his bare thighs, thinking of how much you wanted to kiss them and suck on them and ride them. thinking it would be much more fun to edge on his thighs than on your little toy.

and then minho moved the camera up his body slightly, showing you the way his fingers wrapped around his hard dick. he slowly moved his index up and down his length, the way you always did.

“you’re not gonna answer?” he hummed.

“what was the question?”

“how many edges are you gonna do tonight?”

“i don’t, uh, i haven’t—“

minho laughed, his fingers wrapping around his length as he started stroking himself.

“what is it, brat?”

you swallowed.

“baby, i miss you,” you whined as he twisted his palm around himself.

“i miss my good girl, too. are you gonna give her back to me?”

“yeah,” you let out.

“yeah?” he questioned, his voice getting lower.

“yeah. yes, min. yeah, i’ll be good for you,” you promised.

he let out a big laugh, flipping his camera around soon enough for you to see his eyes crinkling.

“so all i had to do was show you my dick to get you to behave again?”

you blushed.

“i can’t help how beautiful you are, my love.”

minho smiled at you, poked his tongue out for a moment, and then sighed.

“two more edges and then you need to go to bed,” he instructed—and you quickly followed his orders.

bunny<3: good morning, baby. i hope you had fun last night<3. today i need to jump off this platform and start dancing. wish me luck!

you: i had so much fun, i always do when it’s you. and my lead dancer will do so well today, i’m sure of it!!

the next text only came through a few minutes before midnight—when you were just about to play the fifth episode of this new show you discovered.

bunny<3: only just wrapped. i’m too tired for a call but i love you. tomorrow i get to see you!

you: go rest, baby. i love you!

that night you dreamed about kissing your boyfriend again.

the next day during work your phone rang. you quickly asked your boss if you could take a ten minute break and stepped outside, answering the call with a smile.

your boyfriend appeared on your screen, a big smile on his face. he was wearing that outfit again.

“my baby!” you smiled at him, greeting him warmly at the unexpected call. he didn’t usually have time to call in the middle of work, but you guessed they were waiting around for something.

minho started telling you about what they were getting up to today, the amount of times they had to reshoot the same thing and that they were in fact waiting for a set to be finished so they could film the last scene.

as he asked you about your day at work so far, a few of the boys came into view, waving and smiling at you.

“hey ji!” you smiled at jisung as he wrapped himself around minho’s shoulders. “you look good as a cop!”

“thank you,” he laughed, “i know the officer quokka jokes are coming.”

“i would never make fun of you, officer,” you promised him with the best innocent smile you could master.

minho’s eyes were burning into your screen even through the monitor.

“when are you next coming over?” jisung asked, pouting at you.

you started to make plans, the pair of you waiting for each other to see the newest horror film together—but then minho loudly pushed jisung off him.

“stop hogging my girlfriend!!” he yelled.

“okay, okay, text me later y/n!” he said before he ran off.

“bye, officer!”

“so i see you’ve not calmed down, then,” minho said firmly.

“what?” you raised your brows—the perfect image of an angel. and usually, you were, but minho knew exactly what you were trying to do now.

not only did you pull a whole scene on him yesterday—but now you were trying to get him jealous, too. you thought it served him right, as you both knew he purposely called you now and not at any other time when he was wearing anything other than his police officer uniform.

“what are the plans for tonight?” he asked instead of answering your pointless question.

“when are you coming back?”

and then minho promised he’d make you food for when you got back home, that he’d be done with work before you, and that after the pair of you can just “chill”.

“chill?”

“sure. unless you want me to invite some of the boys over?”

“no!” you almost yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to be alone with him again.

it was then your boss told you to finish your call soon, so you quickly said goodbye to minho. not before adding a quick, “and say hi to hyunjin for me, okay?” with a smirk.

that earned you an eye roll from minho, followed by a quick air kiss and a wave.

the smell of freshly cooked food greeted you as you stepped inside your flat after a long day, just like minho promised you.

“jagi!” you yelled into the house, desperate to see his face in front of you again.

only silence followed, and when you peaked in the kitchen you saw a small note by the stove that said he had to go see chan for something important and you should eat the food while it was still warm.

you couldn’t help the disappointment that took over you—but it was part of his work, so you ate the fantastic food he made you and read over the few messages you missed while you were at work.

about an hour later, a few loud knocks made you jump.

you weren’t expecting company and you didn’t know anyone that would knock on your door rather than call you and tell you they were outside.

three more knocks.

you slowly opened the door—swallowing loudly as you took in your visitor.

“can i help you, officer?” you tried your best biting back your giggles, minho’s bright eyes looking you up and down hungrily.

you wanted to jump into his arms, rip the police uniform off him, but the poor guy went through the trouble of stealing it. so you had to indulge him instead. he was indulging you, after all.

“i’m here to investigate,” he said, pushing past you and into your home. “i have reason to believe you’ve broken a few rules.”

“oh, sir, i don’t think that’s correct—“ you tried, but a raise of his hand stopped the words in your throat.

“i’m going to need to—“ but before minho could

finish, keep up this game, a chorus of meows came in from the other room as three cats followed the new voice in the house.

they missed him, too.

minho leaned down to pick dori up, the other two walking in circle between his legs as their tails brushed against him happily.

“hey,” he said, his voice higher as he spoke to the cat, “i missed you so much.”

he was still wearing the uniform, he was still strong and intimidating, but as he brushed his face against the cat’s fur—he was suddenly your min again. soft, gentle, caring.

you smiled fondly at him as you listened to him explaining that, “mummy and daddy are going to be a little busy tonight and then later you’ll get all our attention.”

you laughed.

“did you feed them?”

“yep,” you nodded, the lovesick smile on your face mirroring his.

“did you feed yourself?”

“yes, it was really nice. thank you,”

at that minho nodded, placing dori back on the ground and urging his cats to wait for the pair of you. they listened, they always listened to minho, and made their way back to their playroom on the other side of the house.

minho straightened himself back out, pushing his hands back into the pockets of his tan trousers. he coughed.

“like i said, i’m gonna need to search you.”

“search me?”

“to make sure you’re not carrying anything dangerous, of course,” he smirked.

you smirked back at him, enjoying this game just as much as he was—and quickly placed your arms outside your body like you did at the airport when needing to be search. but you knew this time would be much less appropriate.

minho stepped closer to you, patting down your arms first as he saw many times before in movies.

then he crouched in front of you, sneaking a look up at you—his eyes glazing smugly—before he patted up your legs. when he reached your thighs, he patted higher and higher and higher, before running a finger softly over your crotch. he acted like he didn’t do that at all, instead patting his way back down your other leg.

he then stood up, looking right in your eyes as he patted across your stomach softly. with his eyes still locked on yours—he brought his a finger onto your collarbone, moving across it slowly, softly, trailing it down your chest until he reached the button of your shirt.

as your breath hitched, he undid the first button and then the next and then the next, never looking away from your eyes, until there was no buttons left. he pushed the fabric off your slowly.

“i need to make sure you’re not hiding anything under your shirt,” he explained, his voice so low you could almost feel it against your skin. you nodded in understanding as the shirt landed somewhere behind you.

minho brought both his hands up your stomach, moving slowly as he made sure to touch every part of your skin. his hands were cold to the touch, they usually were, but that didn’t stop the heat that followed his movements all the way up to your chest.

he licked his lips as he pushed the straps of your bra off your shoulders, quickly unclasping it as he let it fall to the floor, too.

he ran his hands over your tits softly, taking a moment to circle each of your nipples slowly as you gasp at the cold contact against your sensitive buds.

his hands trailed down your stomach again before he unhooked the button on your trousers and pushed it down your thighs.

he held your hand softly as you stepped out of them, leaving you wearing nothing but your underwear.

“now, everyone knows that’s the best place to hide something,” he said, running a finger over the hem of your underwear.

his eyes were mesmerised by the small goosebumps on your stomach as he touched you, the way your chest rose and fell quickly at his actions.

you nodded slowly at him as he pushed the last piece of clothing down your thighs.

“that’s much better,” he smiled. “now,” he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, his hands still teasing your tits, “if you confess i can make the punishment much lighter for you.”

“i have nothing to confess to,” you said with a shaky breath.

“no explanation for your behaviour this past week?” he asked with a raised brow.

you shook your head.

“you sure?”

in response, you tried leaning forward—eager to kiss him. but minho grabbed you by the throat, his fingers digging into you slightly as he tsked.

“bad girls don’t get kisses.”

“min,” you whined, but he shushed you. you pouted in response and he chuckled darkly at you.

“you did this to yourself, pretty girl.” you sighed at his praise, even if it came right after him denying you what you wanted most.

as beautiful as his body was in front of you, the black vest he was wearing making him seem so powerful—his lips were still the best part about him. so kissable, so soft, so inviting. you wanted to kiss him for hours and hours, but he wouldn’t even give you a small peck.

he brought his hand away from your chest, running it down your arm before he laced your fingers together. he started walking the pair of you to your room, and you slowly followed—becoming more and more aware of just how naked you were while he hadn’t taken anything off himself.

when he reached the bed, he placed you on the edge of it, getting you to sit down. you could feel the wetness between your legs coating your blanket, but that was a problem for later. much later.

minho kneeled in front of you, running his hands up and down your thighs soothingly. he looked right into your eyes as he slowly whispered, “why did you have to be such a brat, huh?”

“i just wanted to see what it would be like not to listen to you for once,” you said, already regretting that decision.

“but baby,” he sighed, pushing a bit of your hair behind your ear, “now i need to punish you and remind you exactly why you love being so good for me.”

“i do, i love being good for you, min,” you tried. he leaned forward, pecking your lips lightly as he sighed at you.

you chased his lips, wanting more than that, but he pushed you back by your shoulder.

“you made your choice, honey, now come the consequences,” he gave you one more kiss—and this time you knew it was futile to try and get another one. you simply nodded at him. he kissed your cheek before standing up and unbuckling his belt quickly.

“since you had to talk back, i’m gonna need to show you what your mouth was really meant for,” he said, shaking his head before he pulled his dick out of his pants. you both knew he wouldn’t take his clothes off anytime soon, but you really didn’t mind that at all.

you licked your lips in anticipation, giving him a few moments to stroke himself as he got fully hard in front of you.

you opened your mouth, quickly adjusting to the feeling of his weight against your tongue before you started sucking and licking your tongue against him. that’s when he knew he could start moving, thrusting his hips slowly into your mouth as you hummed around him.

“there you go, baby, just like that,” he praised you, his fingers softly rubbing against your scalp as he kept you in place.

you brought your hands to his thighs, feeling them flex against your hand before you kneaded the material between your fingers as minho started moving faster. you remembered to breathe through your nose as your felt his tip slid further down your throat.

you brought your other hand to the base of his shaft, stroking the part of him you couldn’t quite fit into your mouth—loving the way his deep moans sounded in your ear.

after a few more minutes, or maybe twenty, minho pulled out of your mouth. you gasped in some air, cleaning the bit of spit that travelled down your chin as he pulled away from you.

he leaned down, grabbing your hair as he pushed your head up to meet him. he kissed you, sloppily, unable to stop himself even though you both knew part of your punishment was not getting any kisses from him.

after a few moments he pulled away—but you couldn’t even bring yourself to complain. you knew it was more than you deserved.

“on the bed,” he ordered, and you quickly followed his orders, watching as he climbed on after you.

he instructed you to sit on your knees, spreading your legs for him to see the wetness coating your thighs.

“i love how you always get so wet from sucking me off,” he licked his lips, bringing a finger to your entrance to dictate just how wet you were.

he tapped your arm, telling you silently to lean up on your knees—like he was—and he wasted no time sinking two fingers into you.

they slipped in so easily, which made him tut at you.

“have you been touching today, too?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

“no, no, i promise i haven’t,” you said quickly.

“how come you’re stretched out, then? or are you just always ready to take me no matter how much i give you?”

“yeah,” you nodded, gasping as he moved his fingers faster, “always ready for you.”

“i think you’re lying,” he said, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear. you clench around his fingers, at the proximity or his words, you weren’t sure.

“last time i touched was our phone call, really,” you whimpered, moaning slightly as he added a third finger.

he nodded at you, telling you he believed you now, deciding you were just so needy for him.

“aren’t you gonna tell me i’ve been good?” you asked, your eyes big in front of him as his fingers kept their steady pace.

he chuckled at you. “what, for doing the bare minimum?”

you felt yourself clenching again, another moan leaving you as your walls tightened around three of his fingers.

“getting so excited, baby. do you like being bad?”

you shook your head. you were missing his praise so much, you really weren’t good at disobeying him at all.

“use your words now,” he prompted, bringing his thumb to lightly bump against your clit.

you moaned louder at the contact, breathing heavily as you spoke. “i like being your good girl.”

“there you go,” he smiled, “you need me to tell you what to do, huh? you need me to make all your decisions for you, isn’t that right?”

“yes,” you gasped, “yes. just need to follow your orders, sir.”

he laughed. “there she is,” he kissed you softly, and then again. it was such a big contrast to the rough thrusts of his fingers, but you loved that about minho so much.

“i’m close,” you said quickly, your eyes sinking into his as he started moving his fingers even faster. “i’m so close.”

“and what do you do when you get close, baby?”

“can i cum?” you asked, almost instantly.

“such a good girl,” he kissed you again, “remembering all your rules,” another kiss, “what made you forget?”

“missed you so much,” you moaned, doing your best to hold off your upcoming high. “missed the way you touch me.”

“needy,” he kissed your cheek, “such a needy brat.”

you whimpered at that, grabbing his forearm as your hips started grinding against his palm. you were so so close.

as soon as you did so, minho pulled away, the empty feeling taking over you as your orgasm slipped away from you—your walls clenching around nothing.

“minho,” you whined, trying to pull him closer to you.

“shhh,” he soothed, bringing a hand into your hair as he calmed you down, “don’t worry, my love. you’re okay.”

after you regained a bit of control over your breathing, minho sat down next to you on the bed, inviting you onto his lap.

he quickly rid himself of the vest, leaving him in the tight black shirt as he pulled the trousers down his thighs.

then he pulled you by your hips, sinking you down onto his dick slowly.

the pair of you gasped at the feeling—minho’s head falling against the headboard as he gave you the time you needed to adjust.

“you’re only gonna move when i tell you to, okay?” he asked, the raise of his brow telling you you really shouldn’t disobey him any more tonight.

you nodded.

“no matter how good it feels,” he added. “okay?”

“okay,” you swallowed.

he didn’t tell you to move yet, so you dutifully stayed in place, getting used to the full feeling in your pussy.

minho brought his hand between your bodies, pressing against your clit. hard.

you moaned at the feeling, his name falling from your lips as you did everything you could not to rut your hips against him.

“please,” you let out, but all he did was apply more pressure.

you kept clenching, you kept wanting to move, but you brought your hands onto his shoulders to ground yourself, focusing as best you could on your task.

even without any movement, even without any friction, you could feel the knot in your stomach start to tighten—faster and faster. minho wasn’t adding any more pressure, he wasn’t even moving, but it was approaching you quickly.

you did everything you could to fight it, you were perfectly still.

and yet, after a few more moments of the pressure on your clit and the fullness inside you—your toes started to curl as the knot in your stomach snapped—your orgasm hitting you with full force.

you refused to move, you didn’t ride it out, you just let it wash over you as you moaned loudly at the euphoric feeling.

as soon as it stopped you opened your eyes with a gasp.

“shit, shit, minho, i’m so so sorry,” you rushed, bringing your hands to your face, “i didn’t mean to, i didn’t even know i could do it without moving. i’m sorry, i’m sorry—”

“—hey, hey,” minho said softly, bringing his hands around your back, “what’s wrong?”

“i was trying to be good, i swear, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to--”

“—stop, stop,” he gasped, “you didn’t do anything wrong. i wanted you to cum, baby, you were being good,” he promised.

“but you didn’t say i could,” you shook your head.

“y/n, look at me,” he asked you calmly. you opened your eyes, seeing nothing but adoration in his glossy ones. “i just got so lost in how you looked and how it felt, that’s the only reason i didn’t say anything. i promise.”

you fell into his chest after that, his hand running up and down your back even if the pair of you were a bit sweaty.

“i’m sorry i didn’t talk you through it, my love. you were just so so beautiful i couldn’t think of words.” you chuckled, “you were so so good. you did so well and that was so fucking hot right now. you did nothing wrong.”

you nodded.

minho grabbed your chin, bringing you to face him before he planted a soft kiss on your lips. it was soft, but passionate still, the kind of kiss you gave each other after a few days apart. minho wasn’t always good with words, especially when they weren’t dirty ones, and you learned to understand him best through his actions.

you knew he loved you through that kiss.

“tell me how you feel,” he asked after he pulled away.

“better now that i know it was alright,” you promised.

“of course it was alright,” he urged. “do you want to keep going or is that enough?”

“can you tell me what we’re gonna do next?” you asked slowly, your body already feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything you’ve done tonight.

this wasn’t a lot compared to what you and minho usually got up to—but you were feeling a little more vulnerable after your scare.

“i just wanted to fuck you until i came,” he chuckled, “but we can stop now.”

“no, no,” you smiled, “we can do that.”

minho chuckled at you. he grabbed the bottle of water you always kept on the nightstand, opening it up for you to drink. after a few generous gulps you handed it to him, and once you both hydrated minho put it back to the side and slide the pair of you down the bed.

“ready?” he asked, and after a quick nod and a kiss, he started thrusting up into you.

you were still sensitive from your orgasm, but the friction felt much better. the pair of you moaned, minho’s strong arms wrapped around your back as you both rocked back and forth to meet each other in the middle.

it didn’t take long at all until minho’s movements became sloppier, and before he could even warn you, he spilled inside you with a loud grunt.

the pair of you stayed stuck to each other, the sweat and both your wetness not bothering you too much as you each caught your breaths.

soon, minho started placing small kisses on top of your head, on your forehead, his fingers moving up and down your back soothingly.

“thank you for always taking care of me,” you whispered, moving your head to kiss his lips.

“thank you for being my bestest girl,” he smirked at you.

“oh,” you grinned, “and thank you for stealing this outfit and letting me ruin it.”

minho groaned, “i’m gonna need emergency laundry tomorrow.”

“i’ll help you out,” you offered, tucking your head back on his chest.

the pair of you stayed like that for a few more minutes before minho left to get something to help clean you with—and quickly change his clothes to a more comfortable option.

right before you fell asleep, safe inside your boyfriend’s arms, you mumbled out, “you always give me what i want.”

“because you being happy is what i want,” he said simply.

you chuckled at him, squeezing him closer before you drifted off together.

#minho x reader #minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #lee minho x y/n #lee know smut #lee minho smut #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz smut #stray kids smut #smut #all.works

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darylsfavoritegirl · 3 months

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hey pookies

Summary: Yall remember that episode where Daryl and Beth stay in this cabin after losing the prison (season 4, ep 12 to be exact) and thet play games like i have never.... and spend such a quality time and it's one of my fav episodes EVER! so it's fem!reader and Daryl but they play truth and dare and sort of open up about their feeling towards eachother because they're again friends with benefits lmao but it gets tense somehow👀😭😭 they find themselves in the midst of an argument etc etc and it goes on

This was requested by @duffmckagansbandana but ive also been fantasizing about this idea forever!! kalp kalbe karsiymis eheheheh

Warnings: Daryl being a dick because he is drunk and kinda slutshames the reader. Daryl grips the reader's wrists and it kinda hurts (?) a little bit of suggestive content. mentions of domestic violence/abuse

You held a glass of moonshine that Daryl found when you entered the wooden cabin. You were observing him securing the cabin incase something would occur.

"Looks secured enough to me." You mumbled spiritlessly. You took a sip of your moonshine as Daryl turned to you with a weary gaze.

"Ya really think dis the best time to get hammered?" He uttered in an evident blaséd tone. You ignored his question as he went back to securing the walls, windows. You wanted him to join you, drink booze with you, speak with you. The glass in your hand got warm before you could even consider to drink one more.

You observed his biceps flexing as he was fixing a hole on the wall. He was finally done. He turned to you, took a deep breath. You could see the sweat droplets on his forehead. His sleeveles black tshirt had damp spots around the neckline.

"You went the extra mile there." You said, failing to hide the waggish smirk bearing your face. He didn't respond to your statement but you saw the curls of his lips going upward.

He sat across you on the floor. His eyes were glossy, faint. You smiled softly as you poured him some moonshine. He gaped at you, anticipating you to stop. It was moonshine after all, God knows how long it had been sitting in this junk.

"Hey slow down." He uttered thinking you were gonna gulp down it yourself.

You saw his eyes following your motions when you passed the glass of moonshine to him.

"What? It's for you."

He didn't look at the glass once, his eyes were fixated on you

"Someone's got to keep watch." He spoke

You rolled your eyes in a cheeky way.

"No harm in drinking one glass."

"Go on." you added. Your eyes were pointing the dusty glass that was infront of him.

He gave in. He put the glass near his nostrils, sniffing the drink before taking a sip.

"That's a real drink right there." You said in a jolly tone.

" 's warm." He grumbled. He enjoyed drinking with you. The way you looked so content only made him cheer inside.

"Meh tha's a drawback." You said. You were popeyed. He couldn't deduce the basis of your zeal, yet he didn't question it furtherly.

You two spent a few minutes there, studying the cabin, studying each other when you decided to come up with something.

"You up for playing truth or dare?" You said in a hush that only left Daryl with a confounded face.

"What? Like kids?" He tittered lightly.

"You got a better idea?" You said with a significance of rebelliousness in your voice. You glared at him, waiting for a response.

"I'm worried about the others too but we can't spend this time just stressing one another." You muttered, avoiding an eye contact with him as you looked down at your drink and tapped the glass with your index and middle fingers. It was the reality. You were worried about the others, maybe even too much. However the best thing you could do at the moment was to hope for their well-being until you and Daryl started looking for them. He must've read your mind, he always did.

"Fine. Yea go first." He mouthed. Your mood shifted into a cheerful one by with just 4 words coming from him. You leaned forward slightly.

"Truth or dare." You queried. He leered at you in a gloomy way. You knew he was gonna end up savoring the game, one way or another in spite of feeling childhish at that moment.

"Truth.'' His tone barely above whisper.

You both took a sip from your drinks consecutively whilst you went on a ride in your head to come up with something to ask.

"What was your first impression about me?" You asked, not being able to hide the eagerness in your voice.

His eyes watched you cautiously. His gaze shifted somewhere else, trying to reckon the first day you met. A subtle smirk appeared on his face.

"Thought yea wer' cocky. Too cocky, even." He scoffed softly. You both stayed in quietude to remember the very first day you encountered with eachother. You chuckled.

"That was my coping mechanism. Confidence."

"Cocky." He opposed you in a childish manner, his eyebrows furrowed lightly at you.

You leered at him for a minute. You knew he was also thinking the first days when they took you in. You were drawing too much attention to yourself, pretty much everyone thought you'd be dead in a fortnight, though you didn't.

You sighed. Neither of you enjoyed thinking about any day in prison, it ached you in deep down. Neither of you could envision what your next move should be, spending this time in a wooden cabin in the middle of the woods didn't make it any better. You were in the midst of a chaos and it felt as if all your efforts were in the aim of lightening your agony.

Daryl reached for the moonshine jar that was sitting near you. He started pouring himself another drink. He almost filled the glass to the brim, peeking at you clandestinely incase you'd tried to stop him. You caught his leer and softly shrugged your shoulders indicating that you didn't mind.

He leaned against the wall of the cabin as he grunted. He took a big sip from his drink. You heard his gulp, the booze going down from his gullet. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sound, maybe you chuckled a little more than necessary. Gosh, you were getting lit; you thought to yourself.

Daryl guzzled up his second drink in less than a minute and poured himself another.

"Easy." You managed to say between your slowly-fading chuckles.

"And it's your turn." You hinted.

"Truth." You uttered without him having to ask.

He clattered an "Ahh." sound between his sips to imply he was notioning for a question. His eyes were locked on the ceiling, thinking, you glimpsed at his narrow, blue eyes. His gaze met with yours.

" 'S there sumthing ya didn't tell me 'bout the person ya wer'?" You looked dumbfounded, not catching what he could've meant by that. He must've read you like an open book. He scoffed " 'Fore all dis. 'Fore the world went to shit."

You couldn't fathom his question. He knew so much about you. He knew about your family that you stopped seeing after you moved to USA. He knew about your favorite childhood cartoons. He knew about your days as a school girl. He knew how you ended up in Georgia. He knew so much about you. Although he had never been the type to corner you with your life before the apocalpyse, you acknowledged that there must've been a lot of things you didn't tell him whether it was due to your choice or you never felt the need to do so.

"Yes." You said in cynicism. He remained silent. It was rather explicit that he wanted to investigate more; that he wanted you to elaborate.

Yet, you didn't. If he wanted to know more about you, he should've asked you more bluntly. You didn't avoid his piercing gaze. You could feel your nerves and brain going number with your increasing sips from the moonshine.

"I'm pretty sure there are atleast dozens of things I haven't told you about the person I once were."

He echoed a nonchalant glare. You, once again remained silent. You knew he'd always turn into an impossible and preposterous person to read whenever drunk. You questioned yourself. You questioned if this was a good idea after all.

He sighed. His eyes were narrower than before. He is getting wasted, you thought to yourself. You shifted your position wretchedly, grabbing your drink with both hands. You tried to put a constrained smile on your face.

The silence was unbearable so you spoke up. Your voice was raucity.

"So truth or dare?" You asked.

He gazed at you with a piercing look. You played the game not more than 5 minutes and the air had already started to feel stuffy due to intensity between you two. You couldn't understand why.

"Truth." He grunted involuntarily. He was only playing the game to pass time, to investigate and even corner you. His gaze was stern. Your smile faded away lightly. You thought of asking something private, asking something that was just about you two. Before you could even debate on that idea, you uttered

"Have you ever seen me as someone more than this?" You got hot. The alcohol was hitting you. You couldn't think clear, you spoke before giving it a second thought. You could feel your cheeks blushing. Your cheeks would never blush out of embarrassment nor humiliation. They would always blush when you did something extra, futile, stupid.

You didn't need to elaborate it. He knew exactly what you meant. He knew you had been wondering if he ever thought of you more than an appealing teammate whom he'd share a warm bed now and then. He had asked similiar questions to himself, always leaving them unsettled. He didn't want to give in, ever. He had to have a demenour where he wouldn't let anyone get too close. That was Daryl. Those were the obstacles he'd build towards anybody. You lifted your head only to meet his blue eyes. Daryl spoke the second he locked his eyes on yours.

"Ain't much of a world to keep your mind busy with that kinda stuff." He grunted. You got even hotter inside of your head.

"So, no?" You gawked.

"Didn't say dat." He looked at you with blank eyes. He didn't even get defensive whilst you were going nuts and trying your hardest to not make it plain. It was the intoxication. You were never like this. It was safe to say you did care about his feelings but you weren't a fool. You knew exactly how he'd close up, how well he'd hide in his shell.

"OK. It's your turn." You huffed as you darted away your eyes. Your temper highly depended on booze at the moment. You didn't need him to think that your mind was way too preoccupied with his words, the words that came out of his mouth with such ease. You hated the power he had on you sometimes.

He grunted with vexation as he shifted his position and leaned against the wall a bit more. Daryl rested his elbows on his knees, swinging his glass that had a little drink left in it in a motion. He kept eyeing you, so did you.

It was apparent that you both were bored to death, yet no one put forward the idea to stop it.

"Ya ever think 'bout the old world?" He grunted.

You raised your head, his eyes were squinting right at you.

"Didn't say truth." You hissed.

"Ya ain't gon' say dare neither."

"Right." You mumbled. He was biting on his pinky's nail out of lack of interest.

"Don't do that." You said as you grimaced.

"Ya gon' answer?" He insisted, his brows were slightly furrowed as he, not surprisingly, kept biting on his finger nails.

This game was all about you two finding something to bicker. You sighed. You were not looking at him but you could feel his eyes roaming all over you.

"Sometimes."

"Wish I could go back to those times." You whispered looking at the floor. Daryl's face darkened. You knew his life before the fall wasn't the greatest and perhaps this new world of silence, isolation was a jackpot for him. You caught his leer. Both of you remained in serenity.

You took a sip from the moonshine and asked the first thing that came to your mind.

"OK Daryl. Have you ever stolen something? like something big?" You begged with wide eyes. Only his eyes made you question yourself and your foolish question.

He kept swinging the glass in a slow motion as he narrowed his eyes at you. He wasn't offended. He wasn't angry.

"Ya know I didn't." He remarked. You sensed a sense of sorrow in his eyes yet you didn't step back, you never could when you were drunk.

"That's what you told me." You spoke, emphasizing the word "told" as if you were making it obvious that you didn't believe him. You kept your wide-eyed gaze. An undertone of exhilaration was on the surface of your voice.

"And after all, we barely knew eachother when we talked about this, right?" Stupid you, still couldn't make out what his gaze could've meant.

"Maybe you weren't being honest." You uttered.

"Come on. You must've done something with Merle." You insisted.

His gaze never left yours. You drank too much, you lost your basic human decency. Yet he responded spiritlessly.

"Was bein' honest." You could perceive that was the moment he lost all his interest in the game.

"Ain't no reason not to be, Merle was an ass."

He sighed. Great, now you reminded him his dead brother; at a time like this, in a place like this. Your smile and exhilaration vanished. Drunk you was never stable, you sighed as you looked down at your drink.

You lifted your head only to see him getting up, throwing his glass to the floor only for it to shatter in pieces. You flinched and leered at the pieces. You couldn't dare to look to his side. He grabbed his crossbow on the broken wooden table, slunged it over his shoulder.

"Imma take the first watch. Rest." He demanded. He breathed out before he left the cabin. You stayed there, not being able to move an inch. It was like you froze. You leered at the pieces of glass on the floor once again

"Fuck me." You groaned. You exhaled audibly, looking around the cabin. That was the moment when it hit you, he was drunk; way too drunk. God knows how he was holding up outside.

You immediatly got up, going out of kilter. You had been sitting for a long time, your body was cramping and you kept hitting to the dusty tables and chairs that were sitting in the middle of the cabin. Your head was spinning. You sauntered towards the door, grabbed the door handle. It made a squeaking sound that left you scrunching your nose.

"Come inside." You quaked, not looking at him. You were exhausted, maybe from the moonshine or maybe you were just, exhausted.

" 'm fine." He grunted. His back was facing you.

"Your drunk as much as me." You huffed with withered eyes. You were leaning against the door frame, your hand still gripping the door handle lightly.

Daryl scoffed.

"Your actin' like a child." You muttered under your breath. The alcohol was getting the best of you. His back was still facing you.

You leered at his messy hair, his vest, his arms gripping the crossbow. He was swaying in a slow motion, resting his weight on his right leg now and then.

"Just hate tha' ya still think 'm sum kinda redneck asshole." He muttered. He sounded rather disappointed, fed up with this whole situation.

"I don't." You whispered. Your eyes were wide, you couldn't process his words. He remained silent, typical Daryl.

"Daryl, I don't." You hissed as you grabbed the side of his vest, forcing him to face you.

He looked at your face with blank, stern eyes. You couldn't recognize the Daryl you knew in him. He didn't change his position, gripping the crossbow firmly as ever.

You were getting sentimental at his demenour. Your eyes were getting watery, you couldn't find words to utter. Nothing changed in him, in his cold stern stare that would make you hate yourself. He could never hurt you, that's what you told yourself but even a gaze of his could make you shatter inside. He got too close to you to a point where you could smell the booze from his breath. Deliberately, he rested all of his weight on you, cornering you against the door frame. You couldn't breath. He leered at your eyes with his blue piercing eyes for a hot minute when he spoke

"Ya'd be crumblin' 'n all if I spoke to ya 'bout your past." He hissed.

His glare was fixated on you as he got inside of the cabin. You breathed out quickly and wiped a tear that was to fall down on your cheek and looked at the woods.

"What the hell does that supposed to mean Daryl?" You turned to him. He was going through his backpack.

"Think ya kno' what I mean." He mumbled under his breath.

He grabbed a canned food and sat on the edge of small ladder. He wasn't looking at you but your gaze was at his fingers trying to get the canned food open.

"What if I don't?" You said calmly but at alert, waiting for his respond.

"I dun' kno'. Sellin' yer body for attention. Ring any bell?" He snapped, lifting his head to meet with your gaze. You stood there with complete silence, trying to process his words. His voice was pretty tall, which made you flinch.

"That's really low Daryl." You scoffed. You weren't offended, you were just astonished that he'd bring up your past as a barmaiden to hurt you.

"Right." He mocked. He was still on the small ladder, trying to open the canned food. He sighed as he threw it to the floor. He got up, completely ignoring you.

"Atleast I wasn't drifting behind Merle's ass, doing whatever he'd told me to do." You barked. You had lost yourself. You didn't care what your words would mean to him.

He turned to you, his arms flexing due to his firm grip on his crossbow. He got closer to you, his face was reddening. You could see his vein on his neck throbbing, he wasn't taking his eyes off of you. He clenched his jaw, lowering his eyebrows and leering at you with narrowed eyes.

" 'S tha' what'ca think?" He fumed.

"That's what I know." You uttered as you pout your face. You ran your hands through your hair to take a deep breath.

"Ya know nothing." He barked. He wasn't blinking.

"You were nothing." You whispered. Your eyes were getting red. You could feel them sting. Your vision blurred. Yet his rage was full of spitefullness. He gritted his teeth

"Pickin' up lonely dudes to get 'em pay ya was sumthin'?"

"Sumthin' yer dam' proud." He shouted as he pointed his index finger right at you.

You swallowed slowly. You were not looking at him.

"Just leave me be." You managed to mumble between your shaky, shallow breaths.

"No, I ain't gon' do dat." He boomed. He threw his crossbow on the mattres you two incompetently tried to turn into a cozy bed. He got closer to you, immediatly grabbing your wrists with his hands.

You looked at his hands grabbing both of your wrists quakingly. You weren't sorrowful nor furious. You were affronted at his grip on your wrists that left you in discomfort and almost, pain. You raised your head to meet with his hard-nosed gaze. You shook your forearms fiercely several times, hoping he would free you but he didn't. How could he do this do to you? Out of all the things out there, he chose to grip both your wrists. That was something you'd always highlight when you'd talk about the abuse you had to go through back when you lived with your family. How your father would grip your wrists and squeeze them thightly until you'd feel like passing out. You always told him how small it made you feel, how worthless. Didn't he say "What a dick" referring to your father. Now there he was, doing the exact same thing. You wouldn't believe it.

"Can't run yer mouth now, can yea?" He spat out. His voice was growing taller and taller. You tried to get to your other wrist with one hand only he would not let you;

"Daryl, you're hurting me." You panted, quickly exhaling. Your chest was going up and down rapidly, leaving you all panicked and crumbling under his brawny, firm grip. You looked directly into his eyes, looking for mercy; hoping this night would end without either one of you dying. His hard-nosed gaze not shifting into a softer manner at all.

You were still numb from the moonshine, so many thoughts pondering your head. You wanted to kiss him, end whatever this was. You were highly influenced by booze. You didn't care. You wanted to kiss him. You didn't know what the outcome would be.

So you did, you got on your tiptoes; your bodies were already too close. You closed your eyes and kissed him harshly on the lips. His grip on your wrists loosened, you almost toppled onto him which he didn't let it happen.

His strong hands grabbed the both sides of your face, pressing his lips onto yours like he pleaded for more of you. It all happened so swiftly that he shoved you on the wall harshly. He waited for a split second, his lips brushing yours. You could smell the pungent odour of alcohol mingled with the smell of cigarattes you smoked earlier that day. You didn't care. You wanted all of him. He panted rapidly against your lips. You stayed like that for a moment, his hands flawlessly placed on the temples of your head; the only thing you could hear was eachother's shaky breaths. You pressed your lips onto him once again. A tear that you had been holding so long fell down your cheek, you didn't mind. It was a joyful tear. You were both taking eachother breaths away that left your heart ponding like crazy. He rested all of his body weight on you, which you didn't complain this time. You could feel him growing under his jeans.

Your hands reached the collar of his vest and helped him take it off. You grabbed his bare shoulders and digged your fingernails into them. His hands shifted to your waist from the sides of your face. There was that void feeling in your stomach once again. How small you were compared to him, how you were like an insect which he could've crashed with his fingertips seconds ago.

You gasped when his hands went under your t-shirt, grabbing your hips and waist and stroking your skin. It became a sloppy kiss but you both liked it. Your whole body curved into his body, small moans escaping your mouth. He started going down on your neck from your plumpy lips. Your grabbed a fistful of his hair gently with your right hand, softly pushing his head down on your neck as he kept pecking on your soft skin.

You made up.

FOOTNOTE

Why is it actually so awkward do write even a basic kissing scene. it was painful. idk much about this fanfic it was way better in my mind but idc

@duffmckagansbandana deserves some credits too!! we exchanged so many thoughts during this :))

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon one shot #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #twd imagine #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon gif #daryl dixon fanfiction #fanfic

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btsgotjams27 · 7 months

Text

don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed.

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you.

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight.

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along?

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #rm fic #rm fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenario #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x you

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undeadcannibal · 7 months

Note

Alejandro X Fem reader please? Where Alejandro comes home after a mission and his wife just jumps his bones lmao

*cough* anywhay-

Summary: Alejandro comes home and his SO/Reader pounces on him.

Genre: Ficlet, request(s) Characters featured: Alejandro Vargas

Warnings: Mention(s) of mature material Word count: 787

A/N: *dying inside because I wanted to make this longer but... just couldn’t finish it* Anyway, I hope you enjoy, Anon. I’m sorry my brain couldn’t finish this one no matter how much I tried. XP ( Gif credit: xxx )

Alejandro couldn't get home any sooner…

Usually, you were always eager to see him but this time, your need for him felt physical as well. It was as if your body yearned for him just as much as your heart did.

Grunting to yourself, you flopped over the arm of your couch from the side. Allowing yourself to fall back onto the cushions in a dramatic and lazy manner. Tilting your head back, you glanced at the clock from an upside down position, doing your best to guesstimate the time he'd be coming home.

Every time he let you know whenever he was coming home, you understood it was an estimation, never an exact arrival time. Yet, that didn't stop you from practically waiting at the door for him like some sort of lovesick puppy.

Much like now. It almost felt like you were counting down the very seconds till he came home.

Time always did drag on slower the more excited you were…

Sighing softly, you stretched your muscles on the couch. Spreading out across the length of the cushions when you heard the sound of a vehicle door closing outside.

Almost immediately you were suddenly bursting with energy, springing forth to sit up on the couch just in time to see the door knob unlocking and turning. Just as the front door was creaking open, you were pushing yourself off the couch and over towards it. A giddy smile on your face the moment your eyes took in the sight of Alejandro.

Despite being exhausted and no doubt ready to collapse into the nearest soft surface, Alejandro never denied you the opportunity to welcome him home however you wanted.

This time, you threw yourself into his open arms and immediately wrapped your own around him. Squeezing him tightly to you, in a totally not weird and clingy way, you wished you could melt into him. You'd whined before he needed to invest in a larger set of clothes just so you could slip beneath them, just to be skin-to-skin together. It didn't even have to be in a sexual manner. Really, you just adored him with your entire being and couldn't find the right words to express it to him. None of them came close to how you felt for him…

Alejandro grinned, returning your enthusiastic hug with a tight, lifting hug of his own. Raising you off the floor as he nuzzled his face against the top of your head. The two of you spent what felt like far too long and far too little time in each other's embrace. Enjoying the other's presence now that you were back together once more.

"Mm, Alejandro…" You murmured into the skin of his neck, delighting in the small shiver you received from him afterward.

"Si, mi vida?"

Leaning back just enough so he could glance down at you, Alejandro smirked as he watched your teeth worry your bottom lip. The man knew that look of yours all too well. You definitely had something in mind for his arrival home.

"It's nothing serious, hon." You reassured him whilst also dipping your head down so you could begin to place soft, fleeting kisses just beneath his jawline and at the top of his throat. "You know how I get when you're away for too long."

"Pent up?" Alejandro teased, only to laugh shortly after you responded by smacking your hand against his chest.

"Well..." Trailing off into silence, you couldn't exactly deny his claim. You missed everything about him in every way, that included those more intimate and carnal urges too.

Glancing up at him with lidded eyes you nodded your head in agreement. "Alright, you got me. I've missed you so much, babe. Let me show you just how much, yeah?"

Alejandro's dark eyes traveled over your form, drinking the sight of you in like a predator did their prey just before they sank their teeth into their vulnerable flesh. As tempting as it was to give in - bare your neck for him - and allow him to sink his fangs in and take you apart however he saw fit, you weren't in the mood for that. Not now. Now, you wanted to show him just how much you'd ached for him. Leading him back towards the couch you were laying on by tugging on one of the straps from his outfit.

Once you had him close enough to the cushions, you led him around till the back of his calves were brushing against them. Right before you flattened your palms against his chest and pushed him back down to sit on the couch.

"Saddle up, Vaquero. I plan on riding you till neither of us can think straight~"

#call of duty x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #los vaqueros x reader #one shot #opened mail #request #my writing

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moralina · 1 year

Text

WILD NIGHTS - WILD NIGHTS! | JJ MAYBANK

Summary: JJ decides to take you on an unusual date, and maybe you should've known that with him you could possibly end the night running away from security.

Warnings: nothing to do with the poem except for the title and i thought it'd be a great way to cut the scenes with lmao, also quickly edited, wanted to write more but also wanted to post this today. fem!reader.

Wc: 1.5k

Masterlist

My latest jj blurb

Not my gif

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Your feet met the slippery grass with a thud, making you slightly lose your balance but quickly adjusting your footing back as soon as his hands touched yours.

"Where are we going?" you asked, hands pulling at the sleeves of your sweater trying to find warmth within. "I'm not complaining but i'd rather stay under my warm and soft blankets, y'know"

"it's worth it, i promise." he whispered even though there was no need to. Your parents were gone for a week, letting you by yourself while they visited some distant family member who you've never really met. "now c'mon"

his right hand closed around yours, pulling your arm and bringing you with him to the parked van on the other side of the street.

"jj" you whined, sounding too much like a child but too cold to really care.

"it's warm in the van"

You hummed, still dreaming about your comfortable bed.

Yesterday you had agreed to go on a date with jj - your first official date - but it didn't cross your mind to check the weather. How would you have guessed tonight would be as freezing as the inside of a freezer, when just yesterday night you were wearing a bikini and chilling in JB's backyard with the rest of your friends, relaxing in the warmth of the night.

However, the weather betrayed you, and decided to suddenly change drastically on the exact day you and jj decided would be your date night.

"Ohmygod." You exhaled a breath of relief, relishing in the slightly warmer atmosphere of the van.

After a few moments of staring and smiling like a fool in love, jj started the van.

Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

"That's our date?"

"C'mon baby! A kook's pool all to ourselves? It's the dream!" "They have a heat pump!" His eyebrows wiggled and you stared, not really sold

"No" you shook your head "no no no- jj, if we get caught we're screwed."

"Yeah but we won't."

"And how are you so sure?"

"The cameras stopped working after the storm last week and they haven't changed them yet" he spoke matter of factly "plus, there's no one taking care of the house, they're basically asking for it" you deadpanned and he smirked.

Typical jj behavior, you thought to yourself, should've expected it.

How on earth did you fall for this reckless boy?

"Hey, be fun at least once in your life." He said, poking your side with his index finger

"Excuse me, i am fun."

"Keep telling yourself that." He mumbled and you huffed a laugh, eyeing him up and down

"If the cops get us-" you started saying, slowly getting closer to him "i'll throw you to the lions and run as fast as i can"

"Deal!" He exchanged his arm, a cocky grin on his face

After jumping over the gate with jj's help you waited for him to do the same, eyes traveling around the huge backyard. You've never seen a pool so big in your life. Its was probably the size of your house.

"Those kooks, man." You muttered as jj appeared beside you.

"Yeah." He said, also taking a moment to look around the whole place.

"How did you know about this?"

"I cut their grass last week" he shrugged, "heard someone talking about the security cameras not working."

"Oh so then you decided it'd be a good idea to just… break in?"

"Yes." He said casually.

You rolled your eyes, but followed him nonetheless as he started walking towards the pool.

"Even the air feels different here."

His comment made you laugh. He wasn't necessarily wrong. Everything felt different on figure eight. Didn't mean it was better, though.

"What are you doing?" You hushed when you noticed jj taking off his sweater

"What do you think im doing?" You lifted a brow quizzically "i'm not getting into the pool with my clothes on now, am i?"

"Yeah, but it's free-"

"Freezing, i know, i know." His sweater was thrown aimlessly to the side "But the moment i turn this pretty thing on it'll be like a huge jacuzzi, baby!"

You waited for him to do exactly that, and when the water seemed to be at a decent temperature you began to take off your shirt. However, your eyes wined when you glanced at jj and he was moments away from getting all of his clothes off.

All of it.

"Jj" you hissed "what. Are. You. Doing!?"

"I thought skinny dipping would be more romantic." He winked before finally discarding his sweatpants and underwear to the side

Not even a second later he started running, and before jumping straight to the water he let out the loudest scream he could master.

"We're fucked." You breathed out.

Definitely the whole neighborhood heard that, and then security would get here and see you and your-not-yet-official naked boyfriend

"Are you planning to run away from the cops with your thing dangling between your legs?" You questioned when his head finally came back to the surface

He chuckled at your comment, once again too loudly for your liking.

"I'll give them a show, princess." His hand ran through his wet hair and something inside you clicked. The urge to throw him against the pool walls and kiss him for hours being stronger than anything else "Now get in the water."

You hesitated, but decided to go against your gut feeling, and I guess be fun for once in your life.

When your left foot touched the warm water you allowed yourself to breathe normally again, not noticing how your breath seemed shallow before.

Slowly, you entered the pool, your underwear getting soaked in the process. You decided not to follow jj's idea for at least this one thing. You were not getting into someone else's pool naked. And you were not going to run from the cops naked either.

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

"Get back here!"

"It was nice seeing you again, Carl!" Jj waved at the poor security guard.

As he ran in front of you, with his pants worn inside out, and his shirt not making all its way through covering his torso, was definitely a funny site, but as much as you wanted to laugh, you also needed air to keep on running.

A scream of joy left his lips and you felt so much adrenaline running through your body. Something you only really felt with jj. I mean, he was the one always dragging you around and making you participate in his wild plans.

"You're too slow!" He screamed, momentarily looking behind him to see you running a few meters behind.

"I'm not used to running from the cops as much as you!" You exclaimed, extending your arm forward so he could grab onto you and take you with him.

When he caught your hand you almost fell to the ground, losing your balance, once again this night, for a short second, but your legs were quick to catch on to his speed.

You only stopped running when you reached the sand. The beach was dark at this time of night, a few lights coming from the street that weren't enough to illuminate the open space.

"That was-" you heaved, trying to speak but also catching your breath

"Amazing? Thrilling? The best night of your life?!"

"It's a way to put it, yeah." You nodded your head, mouth open still trying to even your breathing.

"Did you like it?" Jj asked after a moment of silence, speaking up once again after you gave him a questioning look "our date. Did you like it?"

"It was… something." You laughed.

Definitely an adventure. It made you feel more alive than ever, but you wouldn't say that aloud, not wanting to give jj more motivation to take you to any more fun dates

"Something good or…" he trailed off.

You couldn’t see it, mostly because he wouldn't show it, but jj was nervous. He wanted to give you a memorable date. You've already gone out thousands of times together. Sometimes only the two of you, other times as a group with all of the pogues, but you never called it a date. Before tonight your relationship didn't have a label, and he really wanted it to have. He wanted you to be his girlfriend, and he wanted to be your boyfriend.

So yeah, it was kind of a stressful night and maybe he went too far, but hey, you had the biggest smile on your face right now. You didn't look mad. Not one bit.

"Good." You told him finally

"Good" he repeated, feeling his muscles relax.

"But we're not doing this again."

"Yup! Definitely… not doing this again."

"Jj…"

"What? You have my word."

"Yeah, no. Definitely not trusting that."

A/n: im so anxious rn, you guys have no idea. Anyway, did this so fast I'll probably edit it again when i wake up tomorrow oof

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

Text

NSFW Alphabet Arthur Morgan

Okay! This was requested from an anon user but I've wanted to do one for a while!

Keep in mind this is NOT modern Arthur, it's regular old 1899 Arthur, and I know there's been multiple of these made but like I wanna do my take on it lmao, so I hope y'all enjoy it! I had to look up the alphabet for this lmao, I forgot what each letter stood for what

Uh, also each letter is probs gonna be kinda long so this is gonna be a long ass post lmao

So!

Warnings!: Obviously NSFW, and I mean, talk of all and anything nsfw

Tags!: @photo1030 @kieropal @mrsarthurmorgan7 @6kaja9 @pcotarelo @cantchoosejust1

Let's go y'all!

A= Aftercare (What They're like after sex): Arthur is a very cuddly man, I mean, he won't admit it to anyone but you, he's very affectionate, he'll be affectionate with you in camp in front of everyone, but if someone DARES point it out he refuses and gives them a glare to send them running. Therefore, after sex he's the most gentle person ever, he cleans you up, gives you water, asks if you want one of his shirts or if you want to stay nude, and he cuddles with you, unless you don't want that, but his initial idea is to cuddle.

B= Body Part (their favorite of theirs and their partner): Arthur loves your thighs, first off, he loves to squeeze them, have his head between them, hold them, slap 'em anything that has to do with your thighs, he's all over them. They are his absolute favorite thing. He's totally an ass-thigh man. Now, his favorite body part of his is his arms and hands I think. His forearms especially are very defined, and he knows you look at them all the time, so they're def his favorite, mainly because they rile you up.

C=Cum (Anything to do with it y'all): Let's be honest here, Arthur is a big man, and he's got....a big...you know, so he's got....storage, to say the least. I feel like he's got a big load, regardless as to if you did it with him just last night or not. But especially if he hasn't been with you in like a week. Then it's even worse, and he always apologizes cause he knows its a lot but lets be honest you're probably a cumslut.

D=Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of his) : Arthur doesn't like to tell you that he likes his hands tied up, but when you offer it he gets a hard on he can't explain. He loves to watch you wrap rope around his wrists and pull it tight while you look him in the eye. Sometimes if you aren't around he holds his wrists together and places them between his thighs to try an emulate them being tied together.

E=Experience (How experienced are they?) : Let's be honest here, it's Arthur, he was made 'a man' by getting it on in a whore house, and I feel like when he was younger and much more pubescent he probably went there quite frequently. That man knows what he's doing and he loves to make you squirm

F=Favorite Position (I mean...you know): Arthur is...I mean he's kinda vanilla, but not really, He loves missionary, he gets to see your face, he gets to kiss you, see how you react to his touch, and he feels a lot closer to you that way, but he also LOVES to take you from behind, your back to his chest, sitting on his lap as he thrusts up. He can't choose between the two if you ask him which he likes better.

G=Goofy (Are they serious or funny in the moment?): Arthur is a bit of both, he's serious, mainly because he doesn't want you to think that this is a joke for him, he loves you and doing this with you is important to him, but he's also comfortable with you, so he loves to joke and laugh with you. He'll smirk at you, and make you laugh, but right after you laugh he'll make you scream.

H=Hair (How well groomed are they, color??): I feel like Arthur, even though he's very much a hairy man, doesn't grow an obnoxious amount down there, but when he does grow an abundance he's quick to shave it to a manageable amount, it's easier to keep clean, and it's more comfortable, it's too itchy otherwise. It's pretty much the exact same color of his beard and chest hair.

I=Intimacy (How are they in the moment?): Arthur is a romantic at heart, let's be real. He loves all that sappy shit, he loves to make you blush, become a puddle in his hand, but, he also can be rough, so it really depends on the moment, he might sweep you off your feet, or he might come up to you and kiss you deeply before bending you over any flat surface he can find.

J=Jack Off (I mean, come on, you know, this one's my favorite lmao): I feel like Arthur used to do it a lot, mainly just because he needed to get the energy out, not because it was something he wanted to do, but because he got tired of having to adjust himself in his pants. But when you come along it's a different story entirely, now he does it because he HAS to, he thinks about you every time he does it. If you catch him doing it he'll just stare at you breathing heavily while he continues to do it.

K=Kinks (One or more of their kinks): Arthur may be kinda vanilla but...he's got his ideas....He loves thigh riding for one thing, and he wants you to do it in camp in front of everyone, and try not to get caught. He loves to tie you up too, as much as he likes his wrists tied up, he loves yours tied up more, having control over you is something he loves. He's also got an auditory thing, your sounds are something that gets him riled up so easily. Hell, you breathing in the right way would get him ready to go.

L=Location (Favorite places): He likes to take you into a hotel, just because it's more private, but it's not his favorite, not by a long shot. He LOVES having you in camp, watching your face contort as you try not to make sounds, its a game to him, to see how loud he can get you, though he does always feel bad when Abigail stares at him the next morning. He loves to do it in the woods with you too, primal, raw, he feels so fucking amazing when the two of you just can't handle waiting that long so you HAVE to do it in the woods

M=Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): Like I said, he's a huge auditory man, but I think there's a lot of things that get him going. He doesn't mind someone who isn't very action oriented but if you are action oriented he absolutely gets hard watching you do the simplest things. Loading your gun? He's fucking solid. CLEANING your gun? He needs new pants. He likes to watch you do chores too, bending down, he just loves to watch it. Your voice really gets to him too.

N=NO (Something he won't do): He's not a fan of like, HARDCORE degradation. He's fine calling you his slut, his whore, but he won't call you a bitch, or something like that, and he won't like call you a failure or some shit, he hates that, and he physically feels a little sick at the idea of saying something like that to someone he loves. He refuses to do any kind of roleplay that emulates non consent too, he just doesn't feel right doing that.

O=Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill): Jesus christ, he loves to give. LOVES to give, his hands wrapped around your thighs while you squeeze his head between them and have your hand tangled in his hair while he looks up at you, it's his FAVORITE THING. He likes when you return the favor of course, and he loves the tears and spit that stream down your face but it's nothing in comparison to giving to you, and he is absolutely fantastic at it, he knows EXACTLY where everything is.

P=pace (How fast are they?): He's a mix, as I've mentioned. He's usually slow and sensual, and builds a kind of average pace, enough to make you feel good and feel loved all at once, but if he's had a bad day and needs to relax, or if you ask him because he DOES love this too, he's fast and hard, hitting your ass with his hips roughly, but in the BEST possible way.

Q=Quickies (Opinions on them and how often they happen): He actually really likes quickies. Not as much as actual proper sex, but he does like them. He can't keep his hands off you, he loves physical touch, and you turn him on literally so much, so if the two of you don't have much time and he happens to be hard he's def gonna suggest it, and then totally make up for it later that night with a much longer round.

R=risk (Are they willing to experiment?): Arthur isn't really opposed to anything, he's willing to try anything that you find exciting, like if there's something you're specifically interested in he'd love to try it if it means that you'll have a good time. If he doesn't like it then he'll tell you an apologize that he probably wouldn't like to do it again, but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't try something else with you. Hell if he ends up liking it he might ask you if you can do it again more than you do.

S=Stamina (How long can they go for): At first Arthur hasn't been with anyone for a VERY long time, so he's not really got much stamina built up, so for a little while he asks you to be patient with him while he builds it up, because he's very quick to finish at first, but the longer the two of you are together the longer he can go, honestly you'll end up tapping out before he does.

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Use them?): Considering it's 1899 there's not many toys available, but I don't think he'd be the type even if there were a lot. He seems very much like a hands on type of guy, but again he isn't against trying anything new, so if you wanted to he'd definitely give it a chance.

U=Unfair (How much do they like to tease?): Arthur is such a goddamn tease. He literally will tease you all day long, come up behind you put his arm around your waist and whisper with that voice of his in your ear, call you his good girl/good boy and tell you exactly what he's gonna do to you later, and then he won't even kiss you before he walks away. He'll do that, and anything he knows you love. Flex his forearms when he knows you're watching, stretch and expose that little bit of skin under his shirt, it's literally his favorite thing to rile you up so you're good and ready when he wants you.

V=Volume (How loud they are what sounds they make): Arthur is very much a groaner. He groans and cusses under his breath, moans but very rarely, sometimes the sounds come out as nearly a growl, but its fucking hot as hell. It's not very loud, usually it's under his breath, but depending on the situation, and depending on where you guys are and how long it's been since the last time y'all were together he'll be loud. Saying things like "Jesus fuckin' christ girl/boy" He can't help it.

W=Wild card (Random headcannon for this character): He loves to look John in the eye and then whistle/ call your nickname and slap his thigh for you to take a seat. John struggles to be as suave as he is, and he hasn't been able to get to Abigail on that level yet, so Arthur loves to be a cocky bastard about it.

X=X-ray (What is going on in those pants??) Ok so, you guys have seen how Arthur walks. Yeah, part of that is def because he rides horses all the time and he's got a little bit of that swagger ego, but that bitch is carrying around a big dick too, like I think he's a bit bigger than average, at least 6.5 to 7, and it's pretty girthy too. Honestly a very pretty dick and nice balls.

Y=Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): Like I said, he hasn't been with anyone in a while, so when he gets with you it's like his sex drive skyrockets because he's with someone who loves him, and who he finds incredibly attractive, so it literally gets SO HIGH. He's almost always trying to get with you, he like cannot get enough of you.

Z=ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards): Arthur may have a lot of stamina after being with you for a while but when he winds down, he winds down. He'll take care of you, get you water, a shirt if you want it, clean you up, and then cuddle with you, but more than likely after five minutes or so of you tracing circles on his chest or playing with his hair he's OUT. Like snoring out, an arm around your waist and the other hanging off the edge of the cot.

Y'all this was so fun and I swear if this gets guidelines I'll have to fight tumblr

#rdr2 smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead characters #red ded redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut

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