#HOW MANY PEOPLE DO I HAVE TO KILL IN ORDER FOR HER TO CALL ME HER PRETTY LITTLE DARLING AT LEAST ONCE A DAY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 26 days

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never gonna give you up

for @steddiemicrofic "fake" prompt that needed to include the words: and, around, desert, down, give, gonna, let, never, run, up, you

1987 words | rated e | no cw | tags: modern au, flirting, bisexual steve harrington, handjobs, some platonic stobin, ridiculous and unserious

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

"This might be the first time someone's deserted me in the middle of a date," Steve said into the phone.

"You aren't counting that one time Sarah left during the movie?" Robin asked.

"She had a family emergency!" Steve exclaimed.

"Right, and I'm definitely going on a date with a dude later."

"You're saying she didn't have a family emergency?"

Steve remembered that date, remembered how she'd even had tears in her eyes when she said her mom called and she had to run home.

"You're gonna unpack that all night, aren't you?" Robin sighed on the other end. "Steve, just go home. Take a week off from trying to get into some poor woman's pants. Leave some of them for me to get into. I beg you."

"What makes you think they'd come running to you?" Steve looked over at a guy standing at the counter of the diner, clearly trying to pick up his order. From the back, he seemed tall, but that could be the black skinny jeans and boots combo.

"Let me talk to them for one minute and I'll have them convinced."

The guy turned as the woman behind the counter walked to the kitchen, his eyes settling on Steve talking on his cell phone at the table in the corner. It's not like there were many people here on a Monday night, nothing else to look at but Steve awkwardly sitting by himself with two glasses on the table.

The guy started to walk over, and Steve recognized him immediately.

"Gotta go, Robs."

"What? How are you done wallowing already?"

He hung up before she could continue, putting his phone face down on the table.

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington shows back up in Hawkins."

Eddie Munson didn't know shit about Steve, never really had. He thought he did, just like everyone else in high school, but the gossip that followed him around never had much truth to it. He really only had two girlfriends for most of high school, and only one of them was serious enough for him to sleep with.

The sleeping around came after his move to Chicago, when he was constantly surrounded by women who would give him all the attention he wanted.

"Never really thought I'd be back," he said with a genuine smile. Kill them with kindness or whatever his grandmother used to say.

It seemed to throw Eddie off at least, his mouth opening and closing around whatever rebuttal he planned.

"So why are you here? Visiting the parents?" Eddie crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the edge of the table.

"Nah, came to visit Dustin Henderson. Staying for a few more days and thought it would be nice to take someone out. I guess she didn't agree," Steve shrugged.

Eddie glanced down at the empty spot across from him, the glass on the table with half of the drink missing. He looked back at Steve's face.

He sat down across from him and smirked.

"So. Come here often, sunshine?"

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he looked up at Eddie.

"Not as often as I would if I was coming to see you," Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink.

Eddie clearly wasn't expecting him to flirt back. He recovered quickly, though.

"I suppose we could fix that, then, huh?"

Steve looked him up and down, taking in the messy bun his curly hair was pulled into, the pen mark on his cheek, tattoos up and down his arm.

"I suppose we could."

Waking up in Eddie Munson's bed was definitely not what he expected when he arrived in Hawkins two days ago, but stranger things had happened.

He opened his eyes to sunlight streaming in through the curtains and Eddie's warm body pressed against his back.

Neither of them had gotten dressed after their shower last night, too tired to do anything more than rinse off the sweat and cum from hours of making each other come undone.

Steve let himself have this. Eddie would kick him out when he woke up, kindly of course, but he'd make it clear to Steve that this was a one night thing. No matter how good it was, Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew Eddie would never actually be interested in a guy like him.

"Mmm. Stop thinkin' s' loud," Eddie's lips brushed against the back of Steve's neck in a half-kiss, sending a shiver down his spine. "'s too early."

Steve smiled to himself, let Eddie's arms tighten around him and hold him close for a bit longer.

"I should probably head back to the Henderson's. Claudia will be worried if I'm not there for lunch," Steve said quietly.

"Just text Dustin, tell him your date went well."

Steve shouldn't get his hopes up. It's not like he was gonna do long distance, and even if he would be willing, there was no way Eddie would.

"I can't lie to him," Steve felt his heart flip flop in his chest at the admission.

Eddie's head lifted and his breath hit the side of Steve's face instead of his shoulder. "Did it not go well? I thought it- well, I thought it went great, actually."

Steve turned in Eddie's arms, facing him, placing his hands on his chest. "It did go well! It did."

"Okay, then…"

"It's just this wasn't exactly a date, was it? You just felt bad for me, probably wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"You know. The ones about me sleeping around, being good with my mouth." Steve's eyes searched Eddie's, looking for any hint of recognition. When none came, he continued. "How I let anyone fuck me on the first date?"

Eddie's brows furrowed. "Is that what people say about you?"

"You don't have to act dumb, Eddie. Some of it's true."

Eddie's hands were rubbing up and down his back, making goosebumps appear on his skin. "You are good with your mouth. That one’s true. The rest though? I never believed any of that shit.”

“Really? Why not?”

Eddie’s hand traced along Steve’s only tattoo, a robin placed just under his collarbone. “Because I never gave much thought to rumors. Lord knows most of the ones about me weren’t true.”

Steve thought about all the rumors he’d heard about Eddie in high school.

Back then, he may have believed some of them, but he had firsthand experience with things getting out of hand.

“You can think what you want, but I brought you back here because I genuinely enjoyed talking to you at the diner. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I wanted to get rid of you. Trust me. I’m not really a one and done guy,” Eddie’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. “If you’re in a rush to go, I can’t stop you. But I think staying in bed with you all morning sounds pretty fuckin’ good.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his heart kicked up in his chest. “You know, I’ve actually never bottomed before last night.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Never?”

Steve shook his head. “Never found anyone I could trust to be gentle.”

“Was I gentle enough? Shit, you should’ve told me. I used spit as lube, Steve! That couldn’t have been comfortable.” Eddie pulled away a few inches, mumbling to himself in a panic.

“Eddie.” Steve tried to get his attention back on him. “Eds.”

Steve shifted forward, his front pressing against Eddie’s, his half-hard cock finding friction against Eddie’s thigh.

They both groaned as Steve rocked against him again.

“Everything was perfect, Eds. Only thing that would make it better is if I get to watch you come again right now," Steve said against his lips, pushing his hips forward so their cocks brushed against each other.

"Fuck, keep doing that and you'll get your wish, sweetheart."

He was sensitive, worked up from the hot breath against his mouth, the tongue brushing against his bottom lip. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd been this wrapped up in someone, this attentive to the sounds they made, this focused on making sure they both felt good.

The friction was enough on its own to get Steve to the edge, and if Eddie's moans were anything to go off of, he was right there with him.

Steve never felt safe enough to be loud, not until he had Eddie begging him to make noise.

"C'mon, Stevie. Wanna hear how good you feel. Sounds so good when you can't hold it back," Eddie's hand gripped his hip, tugging him closer. They were both leaking precum, dripping down each other's lengths and losing track of where one of them ended and the other began.

Steve couldn't hold it back, didn't want to anyway. Letting Eddie hear how good he felt was a need.

"You gonna come with me, sweetheart?" Eddie gasped out as he wrapped his hand around both of them, slowing his hips to focus on moving his hand, finding the perfect angle and pace to get them both over the edge.

Steve bit his lip and nodded, barely holding back a whimper as Eddie's grip tightened around them.

"Come for me, Stevie."

Eddie's voice had a direct link to Steve's cock, maybe through the hand wrapped around him. Steve came with a shout, curling forward so his forehead fell against Eddie's shoulder.

He was overstimulated, fighting the urge to buck into his hand and pull away at the same time.

Steve pulled his head back to watch as Eddie groaned, cum hitting both of their stomachs as he worked himself through his orgasm.

They both lay there in silence, Eddie's grip loose around them as they both softened. They'd need to clean up before the cum dried in Steve's chest hairs and made them sticky, but moving seemed like an impossible task.

"You live in Chicago now?" Eddie asked suddenly, making Steve jump. He rubbed his cleaner hand on his back in silent apology.

"Yeah," Steve breathed out. "With Robin Buckley. From band?"

"I know Robin. She used to come to my shows before she moved."

"Small world."

Eddie snorted. "Just Hawkins." Eddie sat up, pulling Steve with him. "You know, the guys in my band have been considering moving to Chicago. Think it's a good place for a metal band?"

Steve searched his face for any clues as to what he was really asking. Certainly he didn't expect Steve to know if a metal band would feel at home somewhere.

"I…guess?" Steve answered.

"I'll just text Robin," Eddie wiped his hand on the sheets and reached over to the bedside table to grab his phone.

"Wait. You keep in touch with Robin?" Steve felt like he was being pranked.

"Not as much as I should, but yeah. We caught up last time she visited her parents." Eddie typed on his phone for a moment, then looked up at Steve with a smirk. "Problem with that?"

"No, I'm just kinda shocked she's never really mentioned it." Steve stood up with shaking legs. "I should probably grab a shower and go."

"You normally a runner?" Eddie asked, amused.

"No? Why do you ask?"

"It's just the second time you've been rushing to leave. Thought I told you I wanted you here."

Steve knew what he wanted, and he knew it was too much, too fast, too ridiculous for Eddie to even consider it.

But maybe, if he played his cards right, maybe he could have Eddie for more than today.

"Shower with me?" Steve settled on, pouting his bottom lip out.

"And then?" Eddie pushed.

Steve didn't know what to do, but he knew what he wanted.

"And then we'll go back to the diner and actually eat something together." Eddie nodded, encouraging him to continue. "And then you give me your number."

"For?"

"Planning our next date."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #fake prompt #but i encourage everyone to be ridiculous with me

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yamikawas · 2 years

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hiiiiiii darling!!! my pretty little darling!!!!! don't mind me staring from outside the window, just keep doing your cute little tobi things. i'll need some good photos to add to the collection, okay dear? love you mwah!!!!!!

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mochinek0 · 3 months

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Time to Go

Marinette had known since she was born that she was the only daughter of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul. She was also Damian's little sister, by three years.

When the strike on Ra's Al Ghul was taken, Talia quickly hid her away. Marinette knew her family's lives were on the line. She knew Damian would be on the front lines and prayed for his safe return. Although she knew she wasn't her grandfather's favorite, she still mourned his death. Damian seemed to take it especially hard.

Talia had told Marinette and Damian that they would be seperated for the time being. She needed Damian to go with his father to continue his training, while she picked up the pieces of the League.

"What about me, Mother?" Mari questioned.

"You will be on a mission, all of your own." Talia explained, "You're mission is to go undercover. You will act as a daughter of other people. This will keep you safe. Not many know of your existence, but I need to make sure all that wish to harm us, are gone."

"I do not approve of this." Damian snarled.

"I understand." Talia whispered, "I have folders for each of you with detailed instructions. Until you are in your new lodgings, you are not to open them."

Marinette nodded sadly and cried herself to sleep in her big brother's arms. She knew it would be a while before she saw him again. Talia gave them their moment. It hurt her dearly to tear her children apart, but Slade had to pay for his crimes. The League had to be rebuilt and become stronger than ever to give them both their inheritance. With Ra's gone, she would train Marinette to become as deadly as her, when she came of age.

Marinette smiled at the envelope in her hand.

'Another letter from mother. I wonder what my orders are this time.'

Marinette,

The time has come for your father to pick you up. He and Damian will pick you up in three days time. Prepare for his arrival.

Marinette smiled, happily. Lila had been a pain in the ass, as of late. Sabine and Tom took everything her so-called friends said at face value. They would laugh at the implications over dinner. Marinette would tell them all of the lies and how brainless the class truly was. They both knew that if Marinette was really bullying Lila, she could have done far worse. Tom and Sabine had disagreed with Adrien's decleration, but told Mairnette to keep the piece while they reached out to Talia. Only her mother's orders were absolute. If her mother said she could kill her, they wouldn't stand in her way.

"Maman. Papa." Marinette called out.

"So, what did the letter say this time?" Sabine asked.

"Father and Brother will be here in three days time to retrieve me." she answered.

"Well, let's start pulling you out of that horrible school and get ou all packed up." Tom laughed, "I'm sure they will be happy to see you."

'Damian, perhaps. Father; I don't know if he even knows of my existence. Surprise, Father.'

Bruce sighed, "What do you mean you have a sister?"

"It's just as I stated." Damian declared, "Mother has insisted it is safe to retrieve her."

"You've been talking to Talia?" Dick questioned.

"No." the young Wayne heir answered, "She gave us both instructions before we left."

Damian held up the letter.

"There are certain dates for me to open these letters." he explained, "Most of them coincide with our birthdays. Today is Marinette's; she turns fifteen."

"So where is she?" Jason asked.

"Paris, France." Damian stated, "She has been under watchful eyes and was assigned to live as a normal child. No assassin work. Grandfather wasn't too happy that he didn't have two grandsons. Mother taught her self-defense, but she helped out around, mostly as a servant. I was to ignore her if I saw her unless we were alone."

Bruce rubbed his head.

"I have already prepared another room, Sir." Alfred smiled.

"Please, don't let there be two of him." Tim pleaded as Bruce stood up and walked out of the cave to pack.

Marinette handed over her ledger of Lila Rossi to Bruce.

"The school needs to choose their staff more carefully." she spoke, "Tom and Sabine have tried stepping in with the Principal, but I bellieve the Board needs to know what is going on under their noses.

Bruce looked at it and quickly read through it.

"I agree." he snarled, "I'll be taking it with me to the board. I need to legally sign you out of that school, anyways."

Marinette turned to her brother and hugged him.

"I missed you." she whispered.

Damian said nothing, but held her close.

Tom and Sabine stood by as they watch the girl they help raise, reunite with her family. Marinette let go and realized they were holding something.

"We have a copy of all of the recipes we've made over the years." Sabine declared, "Both in the bakery and just for the house."

"Family eyes only." Tom smiled.

"Thank you." Marinette replied, taking it and holding it close to her chest.

"I will make sure it is handed over to our grandfather and he will keep it locked up and safe." Damian declared.

Tom and Sabine smiled.

"I need to take my stuff back to the school." Mari spoke up.

"Go." Damian replied, "Father should return soon. I will tell him where you are and we will meet you there. I will put your belongings in the car so we can leave immediately."

Marinette walked into class and handed her class books over to Ms. Bustier.

"Marinette, why-" Caline began to question.

"I resign as class president." Mari announced.

"What?" Caline whispered in shock.

"Marinette?" Adrien called out, "Are you okay?"

"Is this why you haven't been in school?" Alya asked.

Caline laughed awkwardly, "Marinette, I'm sure-"

"I will be leaving this school, as of today." she announced, leaving the class stunned.

"Oh, Marinette!" Lila called out, standing up, "Did I do something? I only wanted to be friends!"

"Yeah!" shouted Kim, "What the hell?"

"I'll be moving in with my birth father and older brother." Marinette stated, "Mother says it is time for me to go with them."

"Sabine kicked you out?" Adrien questioned, confused.

"Sabine and Tom are my guardians, not my parents." Mari declared, "My birth father listened to me. I have always had a keen eye for detail, as many of you know from asking me to design for them."

"Are you till going on about 'Lila stealing from you'?" Alya asked, "We know it was you who stole!"

Lila paled and sat back down in her seat.

'What?'

Marinette looked at Lila and smiled, "Why do you think Ms. Bustier doesn't want me to stop being class president? It's because I make detailed plans for all the school trips, fundraisers, plan the fire drills, and escape routes. I even know where everything in this school is, including the security cameras. I have kept a record of every lie you said sice you got here, where and when. My father turned the evidence over to the Board of Governers."

Lila's jaw dropped.

"If the cameras aren't working, then they'll just go after that gullible man. Pretty sure embezzlement won't keep him in position." Mari shrugged.

"Huh?" asked Nino.

"How many times do you think the mayor pays him to look the other way when Chloe's being a bitch?" Marinette declared.

"Excuse me!" Chloe shouted.

"Maybe Lila can lend you her hearing aids." Marinette retorted.

"This is why you're a bully." Alix glared at her.

Marinette simply smiled.

Bruce and Damian walked in. Chloe smoothed her clothes and fluffed her hair, quickly. She stood up and smiled.

"I'm-" She spoke.

"Your voice is like nails on a chalk board." Damian commanded, "Be silent."

Chloe closed her mouth and sat down in embarassment, leaving everyone speechless.

Marinette giggled, "You always did know how to make an entrance, Big Brother."

Chloe's jaw dropped.

'She's a Wayne!'

Marinette turned and smiled at Chloe, "Goodbye, Daddy's Little Princess." before turning back to her family, "Father, I am ready to return home."

"Very well." Bruce spoke.

All three of them left the class without another word. There was a lot they had to discuss. As far as Bruce knew, Marinette had no idea about him being Batman and Damian being Robin. She had grown up with some semblance of a normal life and he wanted to keep it that way.

The class looked at the door confused.

"Chloe?" whispered Sabrina.

"Shit!" Chloe screamed, slamming her fists onto the desk.

"Chloe, are you okay?" asked Kim.

"No!" she yelled back, "Do I look okay? So you know-You don't know who they are? Of course you Pea Brains, don't! That was Bruce and Damian Wayne. Which makes.....Baker Girl is one of the richest people in the world."

Lila sat in her seat, enraged.

'What?'

"What?" questioned Alya.

"They have more money than mine and Adrikins' family combined." she scoffed, "Her father could buy Daddy's hotel like it was nothing!"

"But-" whispered Mylene.

"Marinette is a Wayne." Chloe stated, "The Waynes own an international business and have their hands in everything. They are old money. Bruce Wayne practically owns a whole city and just doesn't wanna be mayor."

"What about her brother?" asked Alix.

"He's known for being violent and lashing out. He hates the press." she remarked, "One thing about him on social media and he hunts you down and sues you."

"That's illegal." Alya claimed.

"Sorry. Would you prefer to be thrown in jail or settle for a million dollars to delete what you have?" the heiress questioned, "The Wayne family is known for the high IQ and attention to detail, which means....we're all screwed."

The class learned that everything Marinette had said was true. Lila's lies were all exposed. She was expelled and taken to a juvenile detention center, ontop of being sued by various people. Principal Damocles had been fired, as he had zero authority to expell anyone. Their teacher, Caline Bustier, was fired for not doing her job. She never informed the nurse about Lila's illnesses or disabilities, so there was never any confirmation that any of those were true. She also never sent Lila any homework during her 'travels' and so she was far behind the class in her studies.

Chloe believed she was suffering the most. Adrien was no longer in school with her. The people that let her do what she wanted was removed from the school and she was being forced to sell clothes out of her closet because her mother was upset by how much she 'embarassed them' in front of the Waynes.

'Stupid Marinette! This is all her fault! If she had just acted rich, like me, everything would be the same as it always was.'

The class was in disarray. Not only had Ms. Bustier let Lila slide on so many things, she was behind on their lessons as well. They now had mandatory after school tutoring and study sessions. Adrien Agreste had been pulled out of the class due to his high marks. He was also at the level they all should have been at.

"Dude, how did you pass?" Nino asked, "We all listened to Miss Bustier! You're higher than anyone, including Max!"

"Well, I was homeschooled and Natalie was a tough teacher compared to Miss Bustier. Also, I wanted to be at the same grade level as Chloe. I sorta knew mostly everything, already." Adrien admitted, "I actually could have skipped a few grades if I wanted to."

Nino was surprised, "Would you be willing to tutor us?"

"I wish I could but the board made me take a test and Father demanded I answer every question I knew correctly." Adrien sighed, "I'll be going to high school and if I continue the way I am now, I'm set to graduate in two years."

They realized it would never be the same. Everyone else still had four or five years until they graduated.

Bruce thought that another child would tip the balance of the manor, but he was wrong. It felt like all they had been missing, was her. She adjusted perfectly to the chaos. His sons insisted that Marinette learn self-defense, at the very least. She refused to walk in their footsteps and become Robin or any other sort of vigilante. It hadn't taken long for Marinette to be announced as Bruce Wayne's daughter and Damian's long lost biological sister. Marinette had taken Gotham by storm as Gotham's Angel and was designing under a new alias: Serpentine. She was taking the fashion world by storm.

Everyone loved having Marinette around, but Damian Al-Ghul Wayne knew better. Marinette was as deceiving as their mother. She looked innocent in everything she did, but her mind was a war zone. Their grandfather never appreciated her mind, but he had gotten some of his best stealth mission ideas after talking with her. He could see her slithering into every crack in their new home. She was flexible like Grayson, loved motorcycles like Todd, talked business with Father and Drake. She even won over Alfred, Brown and Cain with her cooking and baking skills.

Damian watched as Marinette smiled at her computer. The look at the screen, the smile; it was his mother's smile. He could see Gabriel stocks were plummeting after their reunion in Paris. Style Queen was barely hovering above water. For Marinette, it was never about becoming Robin. It was about ruling the world and she was going do it through fashion.

Damian would never tell anyone, but he was scared of his little sister and he would take it to his grave. The smile that would lead anyone to death: The Arabian Helen of Troy.

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kiss-me-cill-me · 4 months

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Follow Me Down

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)

A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.

He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.

“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.

You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.

“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.

You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you.

“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.

You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.

Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.

“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”

He was disgusting.

“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.

You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.

Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.

“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you.

You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?

After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Robert-” you started to bark.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.

You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.

“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”

Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.

“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”

He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”

Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.

“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”

You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked.

He just smiled.

“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.

As you started to walk away, he called after you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.

Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level.

You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.

This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.

You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.

Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.

“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.

You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about.

“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.

It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.

“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.

Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.

“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.

Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”

“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”

Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.

“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”

“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”

You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.

“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”

“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.

“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”

Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.

“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.

You were taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.

You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”

Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.

Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.

Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder.

“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest.

The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.

“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar.

The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.

“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”

You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.

“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.

You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.

“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”

You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.

“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”

“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.

You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well, you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.

You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.

“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.

Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.

“On your back.”

He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.

You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.

“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.

Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.

You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him.

When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.

“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?”

You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.

“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?”

Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.

“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”

“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.

“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.

He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.

Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg.

“Use me to get yourself off.”

Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.

“Robert-”

You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Mm, say my name, baby.”

He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.

“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.

Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.

“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”

Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure.

“Fuck," you gasped.

Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.

You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.

“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.

You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.

“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual.

“Poor little rich boy.”

It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.

“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.

You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.

“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”

Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.

He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”

In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.

“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.

“In your dreams,” you muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.

As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.

“There, was that so hard?”

Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.

“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”

You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”

You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered.

“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”

He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”

His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.

“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”

His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.

“You- wish-”

Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper.

“Fuck, Robert-!”

You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.

“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked.

You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.

“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”

Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.

His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.

You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.

“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”

“Not… not inside,” you panted.

“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”

“Don't fucking come in me!”

Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.

Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.

Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.

You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.

“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”

You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.

Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”

You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.

“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed.

Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

#robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #LemmyFics

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boldstarks · 2 months

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Giedi Prime (House Fenrir Dune AU)

word count: 1498 Words pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader warnings: none (yet) summary: you arrive on Giedi Prime for the Na-Baron's birthday celebration, but you have another task ahead of you.

Before you arrived on Giedi Prime, you didn't believe a place could be completely devoid of color, but as you stand on one of your father's heighliners looking over the planet, you have come to believe what they say. You peered at the black and white planet below from the bridge as the ship waited for its permission to land on the surface. House Fenrir was one of the many invited to the celebration for the Na-Baron's twentieth birthday and one-hundredth gladiator fight.

Even from outside the atmosphere, you can see the planet is heavily polluted from the fervent industrialization led by House Harkonnen over the centuries.

A nervousness settled in your stomach when you entered the planet's orbit, and your father's reservations about the match weren't easing the anxiety creeping through your bloodstream. Today was the day that you would begin to seduce the Baron's heir.

"We could always go back home," the archduke said. He has joined you at the window.

"It would not serve our house to make an enemy out of the Harkonnens," you reply in a monotone voice.

They were known for maintaining a cruel and tyrannical grip over their worlds. Violence and war were ingrained in their culture, and you had no doubt they would inflict that bloodshed on your people. If their treatment of the people of Arrakis was any indicator of how they treated those who displeased them, you knew they could do the same to Fenrir.

"Wise words," Lady Aurelia, your father's concubine, said.

Lady Aurelia was the closest thing you had to a mother after your own had died of a mysterious illness during your adolescence. You knew she did not see you the same way, though. Your father openly favored you and your older sister, Maron, over her two sons. To her, you were simply an obstacle in the way of her eldest son inheriting your father's title.

"They could reverse engineer our harvesters or simply kill us and take over production, and the emperor wouldn't bat an eye," you said, turning away from the grim image of the planet that you would soon call home if all went according to the Reverend Mother's plan.

"I hate the thought of leaving you in this place," Vulcan says.

Lady Aurelia sighs. "Y/N can take care of herself; I've seen to it."

"Lady Aurelia is right, father. I am more than capable of completing the task that the sisterhood has given me," you tell him.

Your reassurance only causes the worry lines around his mouth and forehead to deepen.

"Your Grace," a servant said.

The three figures at the window turn, and the servant curtsies quickly in respect.

"We have been given permission to land, Your Grace. We await your command," the servant says and curtsies again.

You watch her nervously scamper off. It seems that Vulcan wasn't the only one on edge today.

The landing was relatively uneventful, and the surface of Giedi Prime was just as bleak as you imagined. There were no natural plants in sight, and the air had a bitter taste to it that coated your tongue, throat, and sinuses. It made you miss Fenrir bitterly, with its vast oceans and thick forests that enveloped the less developed parts of the planet.

In the light of Giedi Prime's black sun, your ice blue dress looks silver. It's form-fitting to your body with a halter neck and leaves your arms bare. The look was completed with teardrop-shaped pearl earrings set in silver hardware.

A female servant is already waiting for you when the ship lands. She is pale and completely devoid of hair. She wears a dark-colored dress of a peculiar cut, and she keeps her eyes on the floor.

She curtsies deeply when you step off the ship with your father and Lady Aurelia into Harkonnen Palace's ship dock.

"I have been ordered by the Baron to show you to your quarters before the spectacle, Your Grace," the servant says in a small, timid voice.

Your father opens his mouth to reply, but the girl turns on her heel quickly and hurries toward another crowd of visitors being led by another woman in an identical dress. She waits to let the guests from a house you didn't recognize pass before continuing her beeline to the door.

You see Vulcan and Aurelia exchange a glance before all three of you follow after her.

The inside of the Harkonnen Palace is just as bleak as the outside. It is made up of identical black and white hallways; one could easily get lost in them. The servant girl expertly navigates these identical hallways without raising her eyes. She's obviously been here for quite a while. You wonder what horrible things she witnessed, or perhaps endured, in her employment here.

The woman is completely silent until she arrives at a nondescript slate gray door with a black panel installed on the wall next to it. "This is your room, Lady Y/N, and your parents are right beside you."

She motions toward an identical door to the left.

Lady Aurelia goes to her and your father's door and presses her hand to the panel. The panel glows, and the door slides open.

"What did it just do?" your father asks, puzzled.

"The doors to your quarters are programmed, so you need your handprint to get into them, Your Grace," the girl responds. "The Baron has found guests feel more secure when they are the only ones who have access to their living space."

Your father nods and presses his hand to the panel. Lady Aurelia walks into their room without another word.

"Just knock if you need anything, darling," Vulcan said, following her inside.

Their door slides shut behind them, leaving you alone with the servant.

"How did I find my way around?" you ask.

The girl makes eye contact with you for the first time.

"I strongly advise you not to walk around without someone to escort you, My Lady," the servant girl said firmly. "This is not a place where one wants to get lost."

This wasn't a request; it was a warning. The girl's eyes darted back toward the ground. You place your hand on your door's panel. It warms slightly when it scans your handprint. The door slides open, and you step inside. The servant girl won't meet your eye again before the door slides shut.

If you were anyone else, you would feel as though you had stepped into the belly of the beast. But you're not just anyone; you're Bene Gesserit. You're exactly where you're meant to be.

---------

You sit on an elevated platform that sits slightly lower than the one occupied by the Baron Harkonnen, the Reverend Mother, and your father, the Archduke, along with an unknown count and his wife. The crowds in the stands below are packed with Giedi Prime citizens. The black sun has once again washed the color out of everything. You were provided a pair of small field glasses to view all the fights through.

You're sitting with six other Bene Gesserit sisters that you have never met before. Despite knowing little about them, having some of your sisters here is a comfort.

In some twisted way, you looked forward to having your way with Feyd-Rautha. The Reverend Mother Helen described him as violent, calculating, and isolated. The Baron and his brother, whom they called the Beast, were neither fit to raise an emotionally intelligent, stable child. That only made your job simpler. It doesn't matter how physically strong Feyd-Rautha is; he's sexually and emotionally vulnerable. And you could mold him into whatever you see fit.

The opening fights are lackluster. It's obvious the opponents have been drugged to ensure the safety of the Harkonnen gladiators. You noted this with distaste and nearly rolled your eyes. The Harkonnens claimed to be the most dominant, well-trained fighters in the galaxy, but they couldn't be bothered to truly fight someone without resorting to petty vices and trickery. Nevertheless, the crowd roars with satisfaction whenever blood is spilled on the sand of the gladiator pit.

Now comes the main event: Feyd-Rautha's one-hundredth kill in the gladiator pit. Was this the measure of a Harkonnen man? Slaughtering drugged prisoners was supposed to be a show of power and strength while wearing a shield.

A horn blows, and the crowd begins to shriek and whoop once again. In the arena, a large set of doors slide open, and the Na-Baron emerges from the darkness beyond the doorway, a knife in each hand. He raises them toward the sun and circles the pit. The light of the black sun glints off the blades. He's hairless, like the other inhabitants of his planet. He's dressed in light black armor and practically preens for the crowd before kneeling. He bows his head in respect to his uncle and dedicates this win to the man.

The Baron is satisfied by this display, and the barbarism begins.

taglist: @ariesmai

#dune #dune part two #dune x reader #house harkonnen #house atreides #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #dune 2021 #baron harkonnen #glossu rabban #bene gesserit!reader #Bene Gesserit #lady y/n of house fenrir

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kiatheinsomniac · 6 months

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hi kia :) are you doing ok? i hope you are queen 💃 I was wondering if you could write how the assassins (altair, ezio, connor, arno, jacob) would react to a reader who suddenly passed out after standing up too fast 😭 it happened to me yesterday and it made me laugh so hard afterwards like thats the goofiest way to pass out ever 💀 iron deficiency queen 👏

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: bestie mood. i stand up too quickly and immediately go semi-blind and have to lean on things for support lol 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: altaïr, ezio, ratonhnhaké:ton | connor, arno, jacob 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

｡･:*˚:✧｡ altaïr ibn-la'ahad

♡ he's got the fastest reflexes you've ever seen, he's lunging to catch you so you don't fall or hit your head. He immediately checks that you're still breathing and will cup your face in his hands and give firm pats to your cheeks while talking loudly to you, trying to pull you back to consciousness

♡ when he finds out why you've passed out, he's immediately reprimanding you and sending you to go and eat enough nutritious foods.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ezio auditore

♡ he wasn't quick enough to catch you yes this is based on how quick you have to be to interact with the game or you don't get to hug Leonardo sobs but he does immediately check you over for injury, your head being the first he checks. He lays you on your back with your head in his lap as he waits the few moments it takes for you to return to consciousness

♡ he immediately begins to ask how you feel and if anywhere hurts and wants to know if you're sick or if you've been eating or drinking enough. He'll pick you up bridal style and cook you a meal himself if it's older Ezio but younger Ezio will lay you down somewhere cosy while he sends for a servant to cook for you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ ratonhnhaké:ton | connor kenway

♡ he won't show it but he panics. He's watched his village be burned to the ground as a child and his life's work revolves around killing people so when he sees you drop to the floor, his first though isn't that you've fainted but that you've died.

♡ he soon gets over that moment of gut-wrenching panic though and comes to his senses, immediately checking you over for injury, checking your temperature and your breathing. He sets you down somewhere comfortable, assuming you're now on your way to bruising from hitting the ground. He makes sure that you get plenty to eat and drink, trying to use the most nutritious ingredients he can for you.

｡･:*˚:✧｡ arno dorian

♡ another one who panics due to childhood trauma: when he sees someone laid on the floor like that, for a moment, that awful memory of his father flashes before his eyes. He's not so good at hiding his concern as Connor is though. The panic is evident in his voice as he calls out to you and dashes to your side.

♡ Arno knows to make sure that you haven't hit your head or anything and he sets your head in his lap while he waits for you to regain consciousness. When your eyes do open again and you look up at him, you'll see teary eyes and shaking hands on him. But he's just relieved you're ok. You'll get a very pointed tongue-lashing from him following by him insisting on making sure you're well-fed and hydrated

｡･:*˚:✧｡ jacob frye

♡ with quick reflexes and his very extroverted personality, Jacob is either fast enough to catch you or surrounded by some Rooks who he can call to so they can break your fall if he's too far. His first worry is that you're overworking yourself so he makes sure you get a break from work

♡ cannot cook to save his life so he's had to go out and order food to bring back for you (or he's begged Evie to cook for which he now owes her many favours) but he insists that you eat and drink well to recover

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@gojohater101 @ayameiris4 @veryfancydoilies @asuni921 @writing-noah @danielle-marie @minimisthios @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @etherealsdreaming @loopycorn1123 @jofie-does-things @havatnah @weasleytwins-41 @firagirl @catou1305 @daddyadler @b3k1720 @asianbutnotjapanese

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katz-chow · 6 months

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deranged!reader & her task force (katz's version)

me & ur mother @moongreenlight are genuinely insane. this is basically us if it even care 😞

a/n: fem!reader all military names fake, processes fake; mostly it'd be classified, not just not done...well we wouldn't know for sure. medical shit also real. i’m in both of those fields irl. no i am not a swifty

clinically insane reader doesn’t rampage kill. art has many mediums; regular people choose acrylics, watercolor, culinary, pottery…reader chooses murder. it’s a meticulous process that depends on the person, it’s slow, drawn out. which makes her a great torturer. thing is, she was part of SEAL team tango-8 but focused more on SARC stuff (search and rescue). she knows her way around a suture kit—and, fortunately, surgical instruments.

laswell knew reader for two reasons: odd separation orders and her confirmed kill count. there was barely anything documented about her medical discharge which was weird because 98% of the military is just paperwork (a fucking pain btw). only thing noted was “medically discharged” and “0% disability”. her confirmed kill count? 43. happy to be back in uniform, she skips around the hallways to price, giving him a giant hug and a kiss on the cheek, whispering threats in his ear. “if you ever discharge me, i’ll dip you in concrete to be my custom statue.” a sickeningly sweet smile follows. as he furrows his brows in confusion and bit of horror.

soap tries really hard to like her and he really does. she's so sweet and always tries to include him in things and bakes him cakes and always somehow includes almonds, joking how it's actually just cyanide. soap laughs until he sees her have actual cyanide in the kitchen, carefully dropping it into the batter with an eyedropper. then a tsp of almond extract. it wasn't enough to hurt or kill anyone, but it scared him

he told ghost and ghost goes and investigates. then he sees reader one night, cleaning her instruments, different mallets, scissors, blades and knife handles etc. and they are pristine...not surgically pristine but definitely floor grade. he continues to watch her at 2100, without fail, and cleans her surgical instruments. until he sees her missing from her barracks from her open curtains. he goes and finds her carefully dressing a man like a buck. she sees him and smiles at him beckoning him closer. after he puts an end to that, with cuts and bruises, he goes and tattles to price. reader crying in the prison about how much she'll "miss her uniform" price and laswell speak about it and they finally know what the fuck us going on. they send her out on the field.

its just gaz, a few recruits, and reader in a safehouse. they've captured one prisoner, a soldier of the pmc against them. he's tied to a chair and after gaz runs over his psychological warfare in him. gaz fails and tiredly beckons for reader to come in. he finds her staring dead straight ahead, looking like she was falling asleep with her eyes wide open. he slowly calls out her name, no response. he calls again, same outcome. he taps her on her shoulder and her eyes fall into a "normal" state and smiles brightly at him, "my turns?!" gaz films it, the blood, the slow agony-per laswell and price's request reader starts to skin the soldier. starting with just a silly little joke about cuticles and then it goes higher and higher, the piece of skin never tearing. it's superficial, it barely draws blood. "does that hurt? don't worry, i'll help!" she blows cold air onto the exposed skin, drying out his flesh slowly while the blood keeps it from fully drying. gaz gulps, the camcorder on a tripod next to him. "it's okay, you're not going to die. and if you do...i'll make use of you, no waste! promise! gaz, can you pass me the kerrison rongeur, please?" gaz scrambles around in her kit, metal and metal clinking together in the heavy duty box. "the fucking hole puncher, gaz." she screams at him, causing him to jump. he finds the long, gun-like instrument, its blade pokes and punches together. he hands it to her, the work end first. she yanks it from him, nails scratching his hand in frustration, but that same smile on her face. she takes small chunks of flesh from the man, blood gushing and pools. she digs dipper until she hits an artery, blood splattering over them all. "the mosquito! give the fucking mosquito." she screams as the man in front of them bleeds out. she launches for it in her box and clamps down. the man half awake. gaz's chest heaves up and down, his face in shock and fearful freeze. reader storms out, face falls flat, no more smile, no brows furrowed, just a dead stare in front of her. "pieces of shit, human bodies are."

laswell pulls out any psych eval documents she can find. she finds exactly one set of documents: your medical discharge. price shows ghost and they stare at the replaying video on his monitor. the image of a wide, blank-eyed reader, hair and face dripping with crimson blood, a small clamp clicked to close an artery. they keep her. soap is the one who finds your bloody kit left in your barracks. chunks of flesh, blood, bone... and other bioburden seemingly never there at all. the shiny chromium finish looking as if they were never used at all. reader who failed out of medical school because of the lack of moral and ethics her professors and physcians saw in her. they banned her from residency.

"can i...have him..? please?" "why would you want an execution order? aren't you an interrogator?" "i want to see the peristalsis!" "the fucking what?" "how his intestines move in his body and squirm around like snakes!!!" she dissects the man in a way only a careful surgeon could. doyen clamps closed off certain sections as she sits and animates the movement on her ipad. the man inhales and exhales evenly, a bandage over his throat, eyes wide and dry from the lack of tears.

soap, as empathetic as he is, sees reader in chow, sitting by herself as she stares dead ahead, mind clouded in thoughts. her arms moves a bit, twiddling her thumbs under the table. he sits down across from her, her gaze staring pass him, face unreadable and almost bored looking. "you alright bonnie?" reader's face smiles, her eyes still dead and still as they lag behind the smile she puts on. her eyes squint. "yeah! why?" "twiddling your thumbs there, anxious about your second mission?" she puts her cupped together hands onto the tabletop. her hands unclasp. she twirls the severed thumbs around. "just a lot on my mind, yeah..."

"can i have it?" reader asks when she sees gaz's shiny teeth.

reader takes interrogations very seriously, taking souvenirs for herself. a finger carefully dried out, teeth, an ear, hair, vital organs in formaldehyde, eyes into earrings, tendons as rings and bracelets.

she gave price a birthday present which included a human heart, dried and shrunk in a glass displayed case. "made it myself", she says. "...on your own time, my love?" "yes, never company time!" his birthday is not public imformation.

ghost was missing a pow. he asks reader. "where is he?" "who?" "the prisoner..." "i let him go." "why the fuck would you do that?" "i'm going hunting, do you want to join? we can dress him in the field!"

"i got you flowers, ghost, for your mother's grave." "how the fuck do you know about that?" "you told me!" "i fucking didn't! now tell me who the fuck told you that shit?!" "you did, don't be silly. you told me over a glass of scotch...or many glasses actually!" she giggles as he slams her against the wall.

price wakes up one night, the spine-chilling feeling of a pair of eyes stalking him. he picks up the gun from his nightstand, clicking off the safety. he blinks a bit, vision clearing and seeing a figure in the shadowy corner. "go back to sle-" her body is slammed against the wall, gun to her head. "go to bed, price." "what...are you doing here?" price breathes out, trying to steady his racing heart, popping the gun back to safety. "wanted a piece of your hair."

gaz finds reader in his room after work one day, reader sweeping his house. he changed the locks within a week, locking all external doors and windows. reader leaves him breakfast every morning still. he trashes it after the cyanide incident. he wakes up to reader with a plate of eggs and toast over his bed. "please eat it and don't waste food :("

the task force lives their day to day lives with the feeling of impending doom, paranoia, and a feeling of dread washing over them all at once whenever they catch a glimpse of you. they beg price to remove you, but price would rather not be covered in cement while still alive.

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sneebnationalism · 6 months

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the way sangwoo views sex is so intriguing to me. he honestly isn't as sexually driven as most people seem to assume he is. rather, he's focused on what sex represents to him. he uses it as a way to feel in control and secure with himself. after bum kills jieun, sangwoo fucks him as a way to establish that despite bum gaining some power over someone in a way, sangwoo is still above him. when sangwoo refuses to suck dick, that's not just him trying to dodge the gay allegations. rather, doing so would be putting himself in a position of submission, and therefore making himself weak.

meanwhile, bum is absolutely seeking a more traditional sexual relationship and is unaware of sangwoo's perspective.

i hate how people talk about him calling bum mom during sex because everyone just sees it as a kinky thing and ignores the fact that the whole chapter is like a waking ptsd nightmare. leading up to that, there's so many parallels between bum and eunseo. he's wearing her old apron, he asks to call sangwoo by the same romantic nickname eunseo used to use on him, and other subtle things that would tie the two together.

leading up to this, sangwoo has been going THROUGH IT thinking about his childhood in general and why his life led up to this point. a lot of this centers around his mom. his childhood was full of emotional incest, sexual abuse, witnessing domestic violence, and just general awful treatment from his mother who he cared too much about to refuse.

because sangwoo has been tweaking for days over this, he insists on not making eye contact while he has sex with yoon bum. not only that, but just not seeing his face whatsoever. people normally say that's also because he's dodging the gay allegations, but it's because bum looks like his mom. sangwoo wants to have sex in order to establish some sort of control and feel in power over the idea of his mother. but bum switches to a position where he is on top of sangwoo, the same position he was in when his mom sexually assaulted him.

so when he calls bum mom, it's because sangwoo is now in a position of submission. he's scared. the only person who was ever able to force him into that mindset was his mother. since then, he's been so adamant on avoiding that feeling that he'd kill and torture people solely to remind himself he isn't weak.

#killing stalking #oh sangwoo #yoon bum

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Customer Service | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: After a particularly rough week, all you want to do is cry. It has you on edge and makes you say things you don’t mean. After letting out your anger on your boyfriend, he makes it his mission to take care of you for a change.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), Matt Murdock eats pussy like a champ, fingering, squirting (I feel filthy), emotional hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no pronouns, reader has female body parts, 1st person pov (?)

a/n: As someone who quit their job in customer service for the exact same reasons I have stated in this fic, this is very personal to me and self-indulgent, again. I wrote this after a particularly bad day. Sometimes I wish Matt were real so he could actually do this to me.

There is nothing in all of existence that I loathe more than people. Why I chose to work in customer service in the first place has become more and more of a mystery to me. I could have quit after the first week, I should have, but whenever the thought crosses my mind, I tell myself: ‘It’s going to get better. You will get used to it.’ I did not, in fact, get used to it. Or, I did, I just started to hate myself even more. Every day I get home from an eight-hour shift, I’m tired, I’m exhausted and I feel the desperate need to throw myself off a cliff.

There are days when it’s easier. The elderly couple who comes in every Sunday, for example, to drink their coffee and have a lengthy conversation over a piece of cake, never fails to make me smile. They’re always kind, and forthcoming and they tip, even though I know they don’t have the money to.

Or the woman who likes to pick up lunch for her husband, she always calls me sweetheart, and she’s never bothered if her order takes just a little too long. The regulars chat me up and I like it because it makes me feel less alone behind the counter, as life passes me by and I can’t help to stare at the clock every five minutes to calculate how many hours of the day are left. They make it easier to forget about the overtime I inevitably have to put in every night. They know I don’t eat enough or smile enough or drink enough, and so they make me smile because they’re good people.

But some continuously want to tell me how to do my job, the one I’ve given blood and sweat for to master down to the smallest detail, and those who treat me like I’m responsible for their bad days and those who don’t care that I’m human, I just have to serve.

It’s so exhausting that some people don’t care about the workers behind the counter. I hate that my boss doesn’t seem to care either, that we don’t get paid enough, and that I’m expected to jump whenever they want me to. I got a life too, but that doesn’t matter because I’m cheap and they love to use those who never learned how to say no.

I physically can’t tell them I can’t work whenever I’m asked to pick up an extra shift, or when I’m sick or have to do anything else. It’s not even my main occupation and yet, here I am! Every day, I tell myself, I should just quit. It’s not my responsibility if they can’t treat their employees right. It’s not my responsibility they’re understaffed. I’m a student, I go to college, and I’m working hard on my degree - why should I prioritize my job over the thing that will determine the rest of my life?

And yet, every day, I go back. I go back and I work until my feet hurt and I’m sick and I’m tired and all I want to do is just cry. I go back because I, for the life of me, can’t say no. I can’t quit. I want to, but I can’t, and it’s killing me inside that I can’t talk about it the way I want to. In the end, I will always feel like everything is my fault and that I messed up, even though all I did was show up to work and turn into everyone’s punching bag.

My stupidity is what got me here. Usually, I would be home now, studying, but they asked me to pick up a late shift at the cafè again, and I worked for seven hours with only a fifteen-minute break in between - I look horrible, I smell of coffee and cake, and my body is hurting in all the wrong places. The weight is heavy in my stomach. I’m nauseous. I ate, but not enough. I’m hungry. I feel sick. Even the smallest sounds make me want to jump up the wall, kill someone, or perhaps even both. I’m angry, and I don’t even fucking know why because nothing happened. Other than a rather messy day with too much to do and too few people to do the work, the people weren’t even rude and I’ve had worse days - still, I feel everything at once and it’s ridiculous, really, because I’m an adult and I should know better than to let a rough day affect me. I don’t.

When he called and asked if I wanted to come over, I said yes. I didn’t want to, but saying no? Not something I would do, especially not to him. I walked into his apartment with a lump already in my stomach. The door creaked - God, I told him to oil it - and that was the first strike. I tossed my key into the bowl and it promptly fell back out. Second strike. My coat slipped from the hanger the second I hung it up. Third strike. I breathed, I had to, then went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Cooking usually works, usually, but the day must have gotten to me because the fourth strike - the fucking milk being expired - happened way too soon and it hit me, hard. After that, I was pretty much done for, and I knew, I just chose to ignore it.

Of course, I should have known I would screw up everything else, too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is kind and soft in my ear as he presses a kiss to my cheek. His stubble has never been something to bother me before until that very moment. I flinch away, not sure why. If he realized it - which I’m sure he did - he doesn’t show.

“Smells good,” he says.

I put the garlic into the pan. It smells too much like garlic and I hate it.

“What you making?”

“Pasta,” I tell him.

He kisses me again. “Mh-hm. How was your day?” the question is stupid, but it’s normal and he always asks. He gets himself a beer - only himself - removes the cap with his mouth and then leans against the counter.

He shouldn’t infuriate me. He shouldn’t make me angry just by standing there and asking me questions couples ask themselves, but inevitably, he does. And I hate myself all the more for the way my voice sounds when I answer him.

“Fine,” I say.

“Fine?” he asks. “How was work?” I feel like he’s getting suspicious. “You only had two lectures today, right? English lit and what was the other one?”

“Linguistics.”

“Ah, yes. Your least favorite.”

Perhaps that’s why I’m angry.

“You know,” he says and the tangent he goes on after revolves around him and only him, and while I don’t like talking about myself, that doesn’t mean he has to unload all of his stress on me - I don’t know why I think that way and it’s scaring me because I don’t actually feel that way, but at that moment I do and it’s all very confusing.

I just want to lock myself in his bedroom and cry. He looks so good with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. He’s wearing his glasses, still, but his tie is loosened and he smiles because he knows I love that smile. I should love it. I should love the way his muscles tense underneath his shirt or the way his dress pants hang impossibly low on his hips, but for the first time, I don’t. I don’t love anything, I just feel anger, which makes me hate everything, but mostly myself.

I must have zoned out. Suddenly, he’s calling my name and he’s calling me sweetheart and he’s poking me with his hands - no, he’s stroking my hips, hugging me from behind, and it’s all too much. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. He knows I’m lying. He can hear it in my heartbeat. He can feel it in the way I move away from him to rinse the now-empty pan in the sink.

How is the food already finished?

“You didn’t listen to a word I just said,” he dares to sound offended.

“No, I did.”

“Really, what did I say?”

“You and Foggy had a case, didn’t go well, bla bla bla. Same as every day.”

He sets the bottle down. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Oh, so just because I don’t care about hearing the same story repeat itself every day and you whining about it means there’s something wrong with me?”

He’s taken aback. Quite frankly, I’ve never snapped at him before, not like this, not out of nowhere, and we’ve been dating for over a year. With his super senses, there is little that eludes the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I hate that it’s like this. I hate not having any privacy, even when I try to. But I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want privacy. Or, I think. I don’t even know what I want. I know I want to be around him, but at the same time, it hurts because the anger is too damn hot to swallow, and his concern doesn’t make it any better. It should be, but it’s not. I’m a lost cause.

“I was just telling you about my day,” he says. I would yell back at myself if I were him, but he knows me. He knows yelling doesn’t help. He knows I’d cry, but maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want him to yell just so I have a valid reason to cry, to be angry.

I want him to hate me the way I hate myself.

That’s why I can’t help it anymore. “Maybe I don’t want to hear about your day.”

“What?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew!”

He’s confused. I don’t blame him. The second the words left my mouth, I regret them. They make me sound like the most selfish person on the whole planet. I can’t take them back though. If I did, he’d know something is wrong and then he’d worry, he’d pity me and no, I don’t want that. I want to rile him up. I’m not sure why, but it makes me so angry that he’s so calm and I’m… well, I’m me, but I’m also not me. I’m a stranger in my own body.

I put the pasta in a bowl. It stinks of alcohol and tomatoes and garlic, too much of it. I wonder how anyone could eat that.

“Here,” I shove it into his hand, “You’ve been served. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I’m a bad person. I’m pretty sure I am. Who yells at their boyfriend because they can’t deal with their own problems? Who makes the person they love more than life itself feel like shit on purpose for no reason whatsoever? A sane person wouldn’t. We have never been a normal couple, Matthew and I, but we’re trying. Turns out, I suck much more than I thought I would.

It’s not the age gap, I’m sure of it. I’m in my last year as an English Major and he’s a defense attorney. Somehow, we make it work. He loves me, I know he does. He’s afraid of rejection - he thinks everyone he loves will leave him, which is why it took us a while to find together. I should have known my words were going to hurt him unimaginably. He thinks he did something wrong, but it’s not him. It’s never him. He’s damaged, but he’s nothing if not perfect to me, most of the time.

I’m heavily crying at this point, trying to conceal my sobs, but it’s not working. The water is loud, not loud enough to fool Matt’s hearing, but even if he were to hear it, he knows better than to provoke me any further. He doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do I, so it’s just the two of us silently waiting for the other to come around. He shouldn’t have to feel that way. And so I cry more because God, I do not deserve that man. I don’t deserve his kindness or his love. I don’t. I really, really don’t.

And once I’m out of the bathroom, I remember why I don’t deserve him.

The table is set for two. Candles substitute for the harsh ceiling light. He knows it gives me headaches sometimes. He put a bowl out for me and a glass of wine. White wine. The sweet kind. The kind he hates but keeps around in case I ever need a glass. He’s drinking red wine. It’s cheap, but it looks expensive and he likes to feel special from time to time.

I hug my arms around my body. He has his back turned to me, fixing a salad in the kitchen - I must have forgotten it. The way he moves is almost angelic. He moves as if nothing happened, as if I didn’t just treat him like a bitch. He’s singing my favorite song or humming it, anyway. The room smells of him and me and the food I loathed before, but watching him do all of this for me, even now, is sucking the air out of my lungs and suddenly, I don’t mind the thought of eating with him.

I only want one thing. I don’t want to ask for it and he’s not going to do anything unless I talk. We agreed on that from the beginning, no matter what kind of intimacy it involves. Without consent or a proper conversation, nothing will happen. And I curse myself for not being able to speak without the tears blocking my view again.

“There’s a sweater on the couch,” he states. He knows I’m cold. “And some fuzzy socks, if you want.”

The clothes smell like him.

“I put some more salt in the pasta. I think you forgot to salt the water, so I took it upon myself. I hope you don’t mind. Also, I tried to make your favorite salad dressing, but I’m not sure if I managed to get it right this time.”

He smiles and then his glasses are gone and he has an apron on and he looks like he loves me, really loves me, and that’s it. I pull my legs up to my chest, falling deep into the couch and I cry. All the pain just comes exploding out of me like an active volcano.

The leather dents next to me. “Comfort or solution?” he asks. It’s so casual, I get the feeling he’s not mad at me.

“I don’t know,” it sounds so broken.

His arm finds around my shoulder. “Is this okay?” I can only nod. Yes.

He moves me gently so I’m in his lap and he can rock me like a baby. It feels good to be loved like this, but it’s also suffocating. Still, I can’t help but fall deeper into his hold because this is, in fact, all I needed. Too stubborn to ask for it, I almost ruined something good. I know I did. He knows, too, but unlike me, he knows the difference between me being mad at him and being mad at the world. He knows I don’t mean what I say unless we’re fighting, and this isn’t it. We’re not fighting. I’m just angry and I want to cry, even while crying, and that makes me cry even more.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks once I can finally breathe again.

I blow my nose like a disgusting person and say, “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.” And that about sums up all of my life.

“Is it school?”

I shake my head. If it’s not school, it can only be one other thing.

“Work?”

I nod.

“Anything happen or just a bad day?”

“Bad day.”

“That’s why you yelled at me? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No,” I say truthfully for the first time. “I’m just angry. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe next time try telling me though. I was actually scared I did something until I heard you cry in the shower.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I tell him that, to which he only chuckles.

“You know how many times I acted hostile towards you after a long day?” he says. “It happens. It’s okay.”

“I just… I’m so stressed all the time. I hate work and I hate people and I hate not getting paid enough or on time, but I can’t quit because you know, I’m me and they know that, so they take advantage of my inability to say no, and it sucks because I’m so tired of working more than I go to school, but I need the money, and so I can’t leave until I’ve found another job, but no one else wants me, so now I’m here, trying to see the good in this stupid job, but I don’t. I can’t. I hate it. I hate everything and everyone and I hate myself and I think I’ll get my period soon because this should not be upsetting me this much.”

His hand on my back manages to soothe me.

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

He smiles down at me, all loopy, and his sightless eyes are focused somewhere on my forehead, which makes everything so much better.

“I love you.”

And yes, I love him too. I love him so fucking much, it hurts.

“I love you too, Matty.”

As soon as I say his name, he knows what I want. He knows I need to destress. He knows I can’t eat until I can forget.

“Is there something I can do?” he asks, but damn him, he already knows.

“Can you…” no, I can’t ask him for that.

“Yes?”

“Matt, can…” No. “You know what, never mind.”

“No, sweetheart. Tell me. What do you need?”

“I just…” my chest heaves a frustrated groan. “IneedyoutoeatmeoutuntilIcantremembermyname.”

He enjoys it. He gets off on it, my desperation. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did. Can you repeat that?”

“God.” My face is burning.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is the first time you actually asked me and I love hearing you ask for the things you want. It’s sexy.”

Somehow, that’s even worse. My thighs clench like I’m some pathetic little schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher.

“You know, maybe you can ask for a raise tomorrow, or quit altogether,” he says. “But for that to work, you have to tell me what you want right now.”

“I asked you to eat me out until I can’t remember my fucking name!”

“Thank you. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

If there is one thing Matt Murdock is incredibly skilled with, it’s his mouth. And I don’t just mean the words that come out. Essentially, it’s all in his tongue. He’s managed to render me speechless on more than one occasion, and he knows. He knows I love when he touches me, but there are times when it has to be about me, and only me, and he’d gladly suffocate between my thighs. He’s told me that time and time again.

He keeps telling me to ask him if I want something. I never do. I hate asking for it because it’s embarrassing. It’s good that he knows what he’s doing, that bastard because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be cumming and I wouldn’t tell him. Somehow he always gets the job done, no matter how stressed I am.

That’s why I need it so badly. I need him to take care of me, no matter how long it takes. I know it might take a while because I’m tense and he knows too. He reads my body like an open book. That’s how he knows I’m horny before I even do.

He doesn’t move for another minute. He just stares at me. “You want me to take care of you?” he asks.

“Please,” I beg.

“Guess I’ll have dessert before dinner today then.”

He lifts my head and then he’s suddenly on top of me. He’s sliding me up the couch so he can fit in between my legs. I’m dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and his sweater and for a second I wonder if it’s even worth it. I’m ovulating, I’m bloated. I feel like shit. My hormones are all messed up. I can feel the weight of my boobs tear on my back and I’m pretty sure the hairs on my legs prickle his cheek as he kisses them. It’s making me want to take back everything I asked of him.

My confidence has taken a low blow this past week.

Though Matt doesn’t care, he never does. He digs his nose between my thighs and takes the longest whiff I’ve seen him take in a while. To be fair, the last time we saw each other, he was busy with work. We didn’t have time for intimacy, which hardly ever happens. He moans.

Smug bastard.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me. It melts my heart. The compliment means so much more knowing he can’t physically see me. To him, I’m beautiful. He couldn’t care less about what I looked like. Although sometimes I wonder what picture he has made up of me in his mind.

His lips are on mine fast. I can’t help but sigh. They’re so soft. He doesn’t rush, he just kisses me and then kisses me some more. I tangle my hands in his hair. I’m sure, this is what heaven must be like.

“Let’s take this off.” His sweater joins my shorts on the floor. “May I?” He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of my panties. “Or do you want me to keep them on?”

I have no doubt he could do it with five layers in between and still make me cum.

“Off,” I say. I want this. I have to remind myself that my insecurities mean nothing – he loves me. He wants to do this for me. He wants to do this because he likes it, or else he would say it.

Matt is vocal, but I’m not. If he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll say. Can’t say the same about me, which is why he asks repeatedly, even after I already told him it’s okay. He wants to make sure I’m on board, that I don’t feel pressured and can pull out any time I want, but I don’t, because the second the cold air hits my bare cunt, all I want is him.

I can feel his eyes searching for me. “Hey,” he says my name. “We’re not playing this time, okay? You can cum when you need to and how many times you want to. You just have to lay back and relax. I’ll take care of you.”

He intertwines our fingers on either side of my spread thighs before he dives into me. It’s slow and steady. He doesn’t care about fucking me with his tongue like he usually does. He licks and bites, but mostly, his tongue and lips stay around my clit and they suck. They suck so good, I see stars behind my eyes. His touch sends shocks down my spine. My sensitive walls clench around thin air, but his head is so far between my thighs, I still manage to feel full.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t focus. It feels so good, way too good, and on any other day, I would’ve come by now. His beard burns into the inside of my thigh as I rock against him. I try to, but it’s exhausting. I can feel the coil in my lower belly clear as day, and yet it’s too far out of reach. I need it, I crave it.

I can hear myself saying, “This could take a while.” And he laughs because he finds it funny. It’s not funny though, it’s serious. I hate the fact that he makes me feel so good and I can’t find it in myself to enjoy.

“Close your eyes,” his breath fans hot against my folds. “And just stop thinking.”

He makes it his mission to ruin me. I close my eyes and as soon as I do, he’s on me. It’s not just his mouth. One of our joined hands reaches up to touch my breast – he twists my nipple through the shirt until it’s hard and has his attention. The other reaches behind me and lifts my hips. The next thing I know, he has me propped up on a pillow. The muscles in my lower back relax. I sigh. It’s so good.

He’s given up on slow and steady. His head moves in circles as he abuses – I don’t have another word for it – my clit and eats the rest of me like a man starved. I realize I need it fast and I need it hard. He knows it before I do. His tongue expertly parts my wet folds, a mix of arousal and spit trickling down my thighs, but I could care less. He’s inside of me and then his thumb is there and it’s rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and I’m so fucking close, the knot in my stomach feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and it’s applying sweet, sweet pressure on cunt.

“Fuck!” I throw my head back into the leather. My back arches impossibly high, and his head squished tightly between my thighs. I need him closer. His hair is so soft, it makes me want to cry, and I do. I cry, but not in a sad way. I cry out because yes, God yes! and then I’m cumming, suddenly and without warning, hard, all over his face, and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

The growl is animalistic. It vibrates perfectly through my pussy and I can’t help it – it barely takes two minutes until his lips start hurting so good as they keep sucking my clit, a series of ‘one more’ leaves his lips in a plea, and I’m rocking against him hard. I’m begging him, “Matt,” but I’m not sure what for.

“C’mon,” he says, “you can give me one more.”

He’s right. God, I hate when he’s right. My toes curl and I push his face so deep into me, I’m convinced he’s running out of air, but that’s what makes him moan and it sends me over the edge.

I’m pretty sure I passed out. The pleasure is so intense, my stomach feels like it’s being torn apart and then put back together. The world is dark and for the first time today, quiet.

Something nudges my cheek softly. It’s his hand. Matt kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. “Hey,” he coaxes me back into lucidity. “There you are. Are you okay?”

I nod.

“You need anything?”

It’s a reflex, reaching for him. He gasps slightly when my hand touches between his thighs, expecting to find a visible bulge, but there is none. I’m not sure if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but there is a visible wet spot where his dick is supposed to be.

“Did you-“ I finally open my eyes. He looks so drunk in the candlelight. I realize then that he is drunk on me.

He buries his head in my neck. “You’re not the only one who’s been worked up all week,” he says.

“You just- oh, my God.” I never thought it possible that it could be enough for him. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You’re always so good to me. Good girl. But I think-“ his finger steals my breath as it circles my entrance and promptly slips it inside of me. “You can cum for me again.”

I arch into him. My chest brushes against his. Our shirts suddenly feel like too much clothing and I’m desperate, so I tear at the buttons until they come apart. He has his arm back underneath me, holding me flush against him as if he’s afraid I might slip away.

A wanton moan escapes me. “That’s it,” and his praise is even better. “Think you can take another one?”

He adds a second finger. It burns but only because even after a year, I’m still struggling to take any part of him. His fingers are thick and they’re rough and they’re scratching my inside walls just right. They massage the flesh. He’s pumping his fingers in and out and in and out, and he adds his thumb back on my clit because he knows I won’t be able to cum without it.

All of the stress falls off my shoulders. I feel him everywhere, his kisses, his touch, his hard nipples against mine. He’s hard again, poking against my thigh. I reach for him and he whines, he whines into my mouth. I’m not sure which one of us will come first. I suppose it’s me, it’s always me. He makes sure it will be me.

He hits as deep as he possibly could. His fingers curl inside of me and then, “There it is!” Is so victorious, it makes my eyes roll back. He keeps hitting that particular spot over and over again. My hand clutches his shoulder. I want to scream, but all that comes out is a series of whined and pathetic moans. I can’t help it, my muscles contract around him.

“Damn, you’re gonna break my fingers,” he says. His chuckle is breathless. “You close?”

I hum.

“Do me a favor,” and I expect him to tell me anything but what he requests, “Don’t cum.”

It’s rude. It’s cruel and it’s vile and I want to murder him because just as he says it, the coil tightens impossibly tight and I need to let go. It’s painful to hold it in, especially now. But I do as he tells me nonetheless. I want to please him.

“Matt,” I moan. He’s so unfair and he knows it.

He smirks. “Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

“St- oh, fuck!” He hits my sweet spot with twice the intensity. I almost cum, but only almost. I keep it together, no matter how much it hurts, and it’s making tears prick at my eyes. “Please, just let me cum,” I hate begging him. “Please, Matty.”

“Shhh. We’re almost there.”

His thumb speeds up. I can see heaven. God is reaching his hand out for me. My stomach is in a tight knot, so tight, the silk might rip any second. The pressure is unreal. My muscles have been trained by him, I admit, but nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing can prepare you for the times when Matt has his mind set on something and he’s going to take it. He’s going to take you.

I can’t think. It’s too much. I know I’m going to disappoint him. The animal inside of me is beyond satisfied and she wants out. She wants to let go. She loves the feeling of his fingers buried to the hilt inside of her. She loves him, and loving him tends to turn into sweet, sweet torture.

I moan his name again. His cock twitches underneath his dress pants, hot against my fingertips.

“Almost,” he promises. “I just want to try something.”

What could he possibly want to-

“Cum.”

I’m flying. My back lifts off the couch and if it wasn’t for him, I would be dead by now. My body is shaking. It’s earth-shattering and it’s wet and it’s everywhere. I can feel the orgasm tearing me apart from the inside, blood rushing in my ears. My senses go black. I can’t see, feel or breathe. Everything is too much. It’s burning, it’s heavy, but it’s amazing.

His fingers don’t stop until he has milked the last drop of me until even the last ounce of stress has left my body and I’m limp. I’m a corpse. I’m barely breathing, a wet sack of potatoes in his arms.

God, the look on his face. He’s cumming too. The wet patch on his pants has doubled. It’s not from me, although I’m suddenly very aware of the fact of what he just made me do.

“Oh.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “That was amazing.”

I never expected to have it in myself. “Oh, Jesus.” My words are highly blasphemous but I don’t care. I’m not even sure how to feel. The blush creeps up my cheeks and I close my legs a little. Everything is so wet. It’s all me and some of him, but mostly me. Just spurts of cum all over his hand and his couch.

He clicks his tongue, shoving my thighs apart. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he says.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Sweetheart, I’ve never felt more proud of myself.”

“I just- your couch. Oh, God.”

“I’m pretty sure the couch will survive it. Leather is easier to clean. How do you feel?”

I sigh, snuggling against his chest. “Better,” I have to admit. “Much, much better.”

“Good.” He kisses my neck. “Can I have my fingers back now?”

“No.” I like the feeling of him inside of me, even if it’s just his fingers. It makes me feel complete, almost.

“Okay.”

“Just gonna rest my eyes now.”

“You do that, sweetie. I’ll be here.”

And he is. He always is. I wake up, and he’s there, and he always will be because he promised me this is forever. Us. Me and him. And I realize then that I’ve never been more in love with another person than I am in love with Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil smut #smut #fluff #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #stress relief #I hate customer service with a passion #I also hate retail #I hate work in general #Matt Murdock rail me challenge

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loaksbitch · 1 year

Note

can you do comforting lo’ak when he’s upset because of his dad or something? love your writing style btw!!

omg omg omg girl thank you so so much!! it means a lot and sure — comforting lo’ak and eventually confessing?? why not heh 🫶🏽

“i see you, lo’ak.” — lo’ak sully

tighten your belt people, it’s lo’ak time! you hear me? yes lo’ak sully bae time. god i’m so excited for this!! okay but like i tired to make it turn out good :( hope you like it dear anon.

warnings - underage kissing and cursing, that’s it. and it’s a mixie mixie of angst and fluff :)

you bite your lips nervously, tapping your foot to the floor constantly when hearing lo’ak and his dad having a back to back argument inside the hammock.

“how many times are you supposed to be told lo’ak!” you hear jake yell at his son and your heart bleeds for lo’ak who was pretty much silent not saying any words. you can’t help but wonder what’s really going inside his head.

“i was trying to help you da—“ lo’ak was cut off when his dad hissed. “help?!” you, neteyam and kiri are outside the hammock while tuk tries to sneak peak on what’s happening by laying and spying under the fabric. “you can this help when you almost got yourself killed?”

“sorry sir.” you wanted to reach to lo’ak and pull him out from the constant yelling of his father.

“sorry does not fucking fix anything.” you glance at neteyam if he heard what you did, looking at you with a frowned brows neteyam nods. “kiri, get tuk out of here” he orders for kiri to persist

“kiri.” neteyam warns and you watch kiri sigh before scooping up tuk and leave the place.

“ma jake, don’t say things like that.” netyiri tries to calm her mate to go easy on her son but jake was far from feeling easy. “you know what, you’re grounded. no flying for month.” you can imagine how lo’ak’s golden eyes would widen.

“yes sir.” lo’ak says softly and starts to make his way out from the hammock. you’re about to brag inside and take him with you until you heard jake murmur words lo’ak always feared he would say

“he brings nothing but shame to this family.” lo’ak freezes.

you and lo’ak lock gaze before his hurt eyes instantly shift to cold and unbothered before walking out from the tent. “lo’ak!” you try to call him but he ignores you and walk away

you feel neteyam hold onto your arm and tell you, “i’m pretty sure he wants to be alone right now, yeah? maybe check on him later when he gets back.” your blink and think for a second before agreeing.

“i’ll go talk to dad now” neteyam says before he disappears into the hammock to talk with his parents s which will probably be about lo’ak.

hours passed since the argument and lo’ak storming off happened, and you’re honestly annoyed how jake didn’t careless and kept having dinner with his families with out your best friend or his so called son. “not gonna eat, my sweet child?” you hear netyiri say to you and you shake your head

“not really,” you push the handmade wooden bowl to the side as you are all sat on the floor.

“lo’ak is not back yet.” you say loud enough for jake to hear and stop chewing on his food. “it’s almost eclipse, sir.” you emphasize the ‘sir’ as you tell jake as if he’s not aware. “he’ll be back soon, i know him.” you scoff at the mighty dad of your best friend

“yeah you do know him.” you murmur under your breath not failing to catch jakes ear. “sorry?” he says, brows knitting “nothing, i’m heading off, have a nice meal all of you.”

you hear tuk asking where you’re going but neteyam answers her saying you’re heading to do something. that’s true actually, you’re going to find lo’ak and comfort him even though he’ll probably push you away. you decide to search for him by his favorite place and thank eywa your guess was right

a tall figure yet so pettily sat lo’ak was greeted against your sight and you smile watching him lean agains the big roots of the tree of voices. it was obvious he was deeply thinking about something and you didn’t want to interrupt him.

at least until you stepped on a dried up leave causing it to make a crunchy sound.

“hi.” you quickly say when his head snaps right towards your standing self. you awkwardly rub your arms and watch lo’ak as he’s silent for a while before speaking, “what’re you doing here?” his voice showed a tiny sign of surprise.

“looking for you?” you say as if it’s not obvious to the oblivious best friend of yours. actually not only a best friend but more of a something to you. “go away, y/n” his hurt voice returns but you’re stubborn enough to not listen to him and crouch in front of him

lo’ak was quick to advert his eyes elsewhere cause he knows he’ll instantly give in to you and cry if he sees your eyes. “lo’ak…” you whisper softly, afraid he’ll lash at you out of annoyance. “look, if dad sent you he—“

“no he didn’t, i came by myself.” you cut him off. “i know you’d be here because you always told me” you answer right after he asked you how you knew and you’re here. you can’t form the right words to make things better and just stare at his avoiding eyes

“can you please look at me?” you sincerely voice out but lo’ak doesn’t budge. “lo’ak, i…”

“i’m tired,” he suddenly says making you frown waiting for him to explain more. “i’m tired of trying to please my father who can’t love me at any cost.” you shake your head and cup his cheeks, “he does love you, don’t say that”

“oh please!” lo’ak pulls your hand away from his face. “you’ve heard what he said, i’m a shame to the sully family y/n, don’t try to rub that out cause you’ve fucking heard him clearly.” you take a deep breath, eyes almost teary because you understand what feels like being an outcast

“lo’ak” you just keep saying his name again and again because you’re lost of words. “you’re not a shame to the family, please don’t say that.”

“today, what you did there just proved you’re a real warrior. i saw you, i saw through you lo’ak and you’re not just a careless kid but a brave warrior like his father.” you’re trying your hard to make him see what you see.

“your father was just scared that he almost lost you, i even was scared when you came home passed out and carried by other people.” lo’ak’s ear flatten at your words. “i’m sorry i worried you” his last words on the ‘you’ was hard that you knew he’s only apologizing he got you worried only

you shake your head at him, “no lo’ak, all of us were worried at your state.” you don’t want to remember what the atmosphere was like few hours ago. “me, kiri, tuk, neteyam and even your mom.” you tell him before smiling

“and your dad? he was actually crying– i know you won’t trust me but he was so scared lo’ak, we had to get him away from you so you’ll get patched up because he was hugging your body tight to his” l you knew lo’ak would go thinking it’s a lie but no, you’re swearing on eywa and his breath hitches

“he said i’m a shame, y/n” his voice quivered and you wanted to wrap your arms around him and hug him so close. your hand lightly cup his left cheek and lo’ak hisses when you trace your thumb over the scratch he got on his cheekbone. “no you’re not, he’s just angry i know you’ll understand”

you watch lo’ak sigh and lean to your touch, closing his eyes. your heart aches and keeps beating faster when you feel his warm on your skin. you’re so desperate to say those words you’ve kept for yourself for a long time and finally roll them out of your tongue

“i see you.” at your words, you watch lo’ak’s eyes snap open and meet your gaze, “what did you say?” his heart that’s to pick up a pace. your cheeks redden slightly when his ears flick.

“i see you, lo’ak.” lo’ak let’s a soft but audible sigh out when you confess, he had been waiting for this moment his whole life with you. lo’ak is awfully quiet making your heart beat fast and you almost flinch when he suddenly cups your cheeks

“say it again.” his thump grazes over your lower full lip. “please.” he begs and you look away, “no please, look at me and say it again.”

“i see you, i see you, i. see. you.” you tell him and his lips curve in a genuine smile, caring less as his tail wipes left and right like a pet. “i see you.” he tells you and scoots close to you.

your gasp was loud when he said it back and your tears whelm, “can i kiss you?” you did not want him to ask about it. “please.” you say and watch your best fri– no your now soon to be future mate lean to you.

his lips were so soft when he pressed them against you, lo’ak leans back to see your pretty face, lashes fluttery closed as you lean to him for more. it was like fireworks exploding in your gut when his hand firmly grip your nape and pull you for more.

“lo’ak,” you say quickly and push him away startled. what are you guys doing? literally kissing when you’re supposed to comfort him and bring him back to the village for dinner. “what? what’s wrong?” his panicked state makes you giggle

“what is it!” he whines and you shake your head, “i didn’t think things would turn out like this,” you see his confusion and hum. “us ending up confessing and kissing when i’m supposed to comfort you.”

“trust me, you always had comforted me well when you said you see me.” his words make you shy. “i love you, pretty.” you’re not sure what the pet name means so he tells you he picked it up from his dad’s vocabulary when he calls his mom ‘pretty’

“skxawng!” you hit his shoulder playfully and stand up pulling him to get up with you. “c’mon let’s go back now.” you say and lo’ak breathes out a nervous sigh. “it’s gonna be okay,” you reassure him and he smiles before nodding and let you drag him back to the village.

i’m in awe, imagine lo’ak and tsireya like this in the somehow sjsjsj! here goes nothing again, thank you for requesting this anon

like + reblog is very much appreciated and not pressured!! i love each and everyone of you! mwah.

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sp1d3rzz · 2 months

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The Devil's Bride

Ryōmen Sukuna

Warning!! : Mentions of death/killing, forced marriage, and basically Sukuna being an asshole and having no respect for reader.

Summary : After Sukuna reclaims his throne and becomes known as the King of Curses once again, he decides on bringing forth a Queen. You

A/N : I somewhat switch pov's during this so don't get confused. Part 2 coming soon!!

Days have passed since Sukuna has once reclaimed his throne. Yet, he seems to be bored out of his mind. There's nothing to occupy him from his apathy.

Sure, he has countless people at his feet he can order to do as he pleases. But what's the fun in that? He needs something exciting to happen. Something to fill his empty pit of boredom.

He contemplates on whether or not he should start a war, find more slaves soldiers to do his bids, or perhaps even go on a killing spree somewhere random in this dark, dark world. Better yet— why not just kill everyone??

Well, not yet at least.

His teeth grind together and his fists clench in annoyance to this endless pit of nothing he can't seem to shake off.

But just before he rips someone's eyes out with his bare nails from frustration, he forges an idea. And with that idea, comes a no-good smirk spreading across his face.

What does every king have in every fairytale, movie, and book? That's correct. A Queen.

"You." His thundering voice reaches the ears of a guard who could be approximately 52ft ahead of him. "Come here." he motions with his fingers.

Almost immediately, the soldier makes his way up the steps and to the throne of his King. "Yes, my Lord?"

Sukuna makes a simple face of boredom, supporting his head with a propped up fist. "Gather 5 of my best soldiers and find me my Queen." his eyes squint, which silently says 'Hurry it up.'

And without another word, the guard takes off to seek out to the Kings orders.

Not many people could get in the mind of Ryōmen Sukuna. To understand what goes on in that so called empty mind of his is mildly impossible. But, taking a wild guess, the soldier puts together things the King takes an interest in.

Power, Control, and Cruelty.

To find a Queen fit to the Kings likings, she must be innocent. A girl who can't stand up for herself, but when she attempts to, she cowards out.

A girl who needs someone to make the decisions for her. But also a girl who has a little spark in her soul. A spark that can carry her to victory no matter the battle.

This shall be the woman who Sukuna finds quite delightful.

The next step was finding a girl who fits this description.

While this soldier is pondering off into space, he almost forgets about his group of men. Which, he's surprised to see catch up to him with a younger looking woman.

"P-Please!! Let me go!" she sobs, loud enough the birds in the trees fly away and flee from the scene.

Tears flow down her cheeks and onto the dirt. Her clothes are scrunched up and dirty, most likely from how roughly his men handled her. And her breathing is so uneven, she might just pass out.

"I swear I'll never tell a soul—" hic! ",if you just let me go!"

There's two men on each side of her, both practically dragging her through the ground. "We found her out here by herself. She seems to be lost." The one on the left inquires.

Once she's dragged to be met face to face with the lead soldier, he grins.

She's a mess. Forehead so sweaty strands of her hair stick to it. Panting so rapidly, she might use up all the air she has left in her lungs.

The soldier takes one last look at the girl, eyes scanning her over, just to analyze how fit she is to take the role as Sukuna's Queen.

"What do you want for me?! Why– why are you doing this!" the girl begs to know any sort of information. Anything to get a grasp on herself.

No one responds.

She looks to her sides, expecting any kind of answer. But is instead met with the men completely ignoring her.

"She'll do perfectly."

Heavy footsteps echo throughout your head, which by now has been ruined with a horrible headache. Lucky you.

It's hard to tell how long you've been out for. If they've hurt you, or if you've somehow died and awoken in the after life.

The only thing you're sure of is how much pain is coursing through your body. It's to the point you're numb all over and you can barely lift your head up. Barely lift a finger for that matter.

"My lord." A familiar voice rings in your ear and back out. "Your Queen." Another one seems to say in-front of you.

In a desperate attempt to figure out what the hell is happening, you weakly lift your head, blinking a couple of times to regain your focus.

Your vision still remains slightly blurry, but you're only able to make out a set of stairs. Stairs that lead to what seems to be a throne. And in that throne, sits a man.

As you concentrate on this mysterious man, your vision slowly begins to recover.

He has spiky pink hair, long black nails, two eyes on one side, with a plated set of 2 more next to it, and 4 arms? His chiseled shirtless body seems to be tattooed with stripes and dots on each of his shoulders. No, no, this can't be right.

"Bring her here." his voice practically echoes into the air.

Your eyes widen to this sudden command, and you wiggle your arms, attempting to loosen yourself of the men who have you a strict hold over you.

Though it seems to not work, because the men ignore you and continue to their orders. Step by step, the men take you to who appears to be the lead of this whole situation. The man who looks to be the devil himself.

In protest, you kick your feet a little, trying to gain balance and hopefully escape wherever you've been brought to.

But before you can successfully break away, it's too late.

You're met with the horrifying (but somewhat sexy) face of the man who has caused you all of this misery. You scowl at him, which in return earns you a small look of satisfaction.

Disgusting.

His men hold you up to him like a piece of meat, dangling you in-front of his nose as if he was meant to devour you with one swift bite.

His eyes scan up and down your figure. Almost like he's purposely invading your personal space. "Pretty little thing, aren't you?" his words taunt you in a sense you'd never thought you'd feel.

You avert your eyes from his. Turning your head away so he's only in view of your cheek. You're mentally unable to face him.

The prideful moment you had was quickly interrupted. With one swift move of his arm, his hand snatches your chin and snaps you back so you can looking him eye to eye. "Did I say you could look away?" he growls.

His sharp nails press into your skin, making you wince. With how tight his grip is on you, it feels like your skin might tear.

His brows scrunch together lightly as his eyes lock with yours.

"I-"

"Silence." he's quick to cut you off.

Your mouth closes shut almost instantly, and your head drops once he releases you from his grasp. Pathetic.

Everything hurts so much. Your head, your body, and apparently your voice now too.

Small whispers spread around you. From one person to another, you can hear all sorts of comments the strange people are making about you.

If the men holding you up right now were to let go of you, you're sure you would collapse and never get back up again. Fall into an endless abyss and never awaken.

"Take her to the cellar. I shall deal with her later." he orders.

You groan a little when the men tighten their arms around yours. But your vision fades back to nothing as they take you away.

It's been hours.

Hours of crying, screaming, and wishing upon your own death. To end this confusing mess that has somehow been brought upon to you.

You're curled up in the corner of the cell, cold walls and bars keeping you away from whatever source of life might be out there.

It almost pitch black in the haunting cellar. The only things in sight is your arms, which wrap around your legs to pull yourself into a tight ball.

Everything feels dirty. You feel dirty.

Small droplets of damp moisture fall from the ceiling and hit the rough concrete. Your skin is hot, tingling up your bones to the point you might overheat.

Your mouth is dry, deprived from the lack of water you've had in the past week or so.

Before you were captured, you were on the run from home, escaping the endless chains of torment your parents had put you through.

It might have been a stupid decision, especially since you had no where to go at the time, but it had to happen. Your life wasn't meant to be lived like that, and neither was it for this life.

Your eyes close shut, mind struggling to block out the unbearable sound of water meeting cold, hard, ground. It itches down your skin with every fall.

Abruptly, the creak of a wooden door captures your attention quickly. Lifting your head up out of curiosity to see who's there.

"H-Hello..?" You call out, but it seems useless since no one replies anyways. Though you know someone has to be there. The evidence of lingering footsteps tells enough.

Seconds pass by to what seems to be an eternity before the footsteps stop in-front of your cage cell.

Everything, including the man in-front of you, seems so unreal.

He doesn't say anything, just stares down at you as if you were just some dirt on the floor.

"What do you want from me!" You shout at him, but it appears to get you no answer except a irritating frown.

Your teeth are gritted together, and it take everything out of you to not pounce at him. Well, not like you have the strength or energy to do so anyways.

He rests his bottom two arms on his hip, and crosses his other two over his bare chest. "Y'know, you're starting to piss me off."

A moment of silence rests between the two of you before he finally speaks up again.

"What's your name?" it's more of a demand than a question, but you don't care. You don't owe him anything.

And once again, another pass of silence flows by.

He raises a brow, giving you another chance to answer. But, it seems you wont of any use for the time being.

"Name's Sukuna, but you can call me your King."

His words catch you by surprise, lifting your eyes up in a shockingly manner. "W-What..?" you have to confirm what he just said was actually him and not just an imaginary voice in your head.

He let's out a huff, shaking his head to your stupidity. "Do you know why you were brought here?"

Well obviously not, or else you wouldn't have been taken aback to his statement. "No, I don't."

"You were brought here to stand beside me as I rule over this.. kingdom of mine."

And just like that, his words crash and bring down your whole life. Everything you've been through, fought for, and accomplished are all worth nothing. It was all useless.

"No, I refuse–"

A hand slams down on the bars, causing you to flinch. "I don't remember asking how you felt, did I?"

Immediately, you go quiet. The hurtful beating of heart being the only sound audible as he glares down at you from behind the bars.

"Tomorrow shall be the wedding. I'll have my men bring you to me first thing in the morning."

Leaving you no time to protest, question, or even give him a snarky reply, he disappears.

You're left all alone, mind now pounding with how quick this is all happening. You have no say in anything, it seems.

Nothing seems to matter when you feel your eyes flutter close. Too exhausted to reject this rest, you fall asleep.

Thank you for reading! I'll try to have part 2 out as soon as possible (which contains the smut 👀) but I hope you guys enjoyed this so far ^^ Reblogs are also greatly appreciated 💗💗

#destinedtowrite #jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #forced marriage #part 1/2 #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryoumen x reader

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borathae · 9 months

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“His touch is electric, making you sigh. “Relax, princess”, he whispers, running his hands along your body, “I’ll take the greatest care of you”. You close your eyes and fall into him. Falling is so goddamn easy when you know that it’s Yoongi’s hands which will catch you. And they will always catch you, no matter when or where he won’t ever let you collide. Alternatively: You ask Yoongi to take your anal virginity and he is more than willing to grand you this wish.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: soft Dom!Yoongi, sub!Reader, the tension in this makes me weak, they are so in love!!, first time anal sex, he is so gentle with her, lingerie, body worship, strength kink, a lil bit of thigh riding, praising & loving petnames, oral (f.receiving), rimming, he fucks her hole with his monster tongue help, gentle biting, anal fingering, use of a buttplug, hand holding, hair pulling (m.receiving), use of a vibrator, he fucks her gently at first then she wants it harder, gentle spanking, he cums too soon but keeps fucking her, creampies, using cum as lube, dirty talk, edging (f.receiving), multiple orgasms for both, squirting, belly bulging, his stroke game is insane, the most loving aftercare, honestly their connection should be illegal, I came outta this smut feeling like someone threw me against a wall, like hoLY FUCK Yoongi is gonna kill me, and the worst thing is that I actually think he’s like that irl, please help me

Wordcount: 9.1k

a/n: I need five business weeks to be able to talk to people again. This made me weak. And weak isn’t a strong enough word to describe the amount of weak it made me feel. It’s like my body felt the gravity twice as strong and I couldn’t get up. I’m talking shit rn, which is yet another indicator of how deeply this shit affected me. Be strong besties, you need that 🧡

You haven’t been home in months. You counted the days. It’s been seventy eight days since you last saw your bedroom. Your plants are well taken care of by the others. You haven’t seen them either, except for phone calls and texts. You miss them, but you know it’s for the best.

You are safe here, in good hands. You aren’t completely alone here.

Yoongi is with you. He took you in one of the cars and is staying with you. Meredith called and offered the two of you her guest bedroom to stay, her library to study and her shed to practice. Of course you said yes. There aren’t many opportunities to practice with such skilled witches and it was an opportunity to go on a lovely summer holiday with your dearest love.

The days are hot and sunny. It’s been summer ever since you came here and it will stay summer for a long time still. You love the weather here, while Yoongi whines about the bright sun on more occasions than one.

Meredith offered you an opportunity to choose from all the different guest bedrooms, but you and Yoongi decided to take the one you had all those many months ago. Violet walls and mahogany furniture, with its window overlooking the garden and ocean. This room has seen so many of your most impactful memories and will therefore always feel like home to you.

Yoongi agrees. He loves this room and on most mornings you have to be the one to wrestle him off of you in order to get out of bed. Truly, Yoongi is such a clingy kitten when it comes to morning cuddles.

You love life here. You love knowing that you can wake up to the smell of the ocean and the sounds of the waves. You love knowing that your fellow witches will be downstairs with breakfast and that you can chat with them about the garden, magic and life here. You love their house because it felt like home and you love knowing that you can experience all of this with Yoongi.

You spend a lot of time practicing your magic with him. Obviously as this was the main reason for this trip. Yoongi wanted to help you with learning perfect control and Meredith’s place was the perfect place to do so. Next to practicing, you also had a lot of free time with him which you spend doing the most amazing things imaginable. On Sundays the two of you take the car to the market to shop for next week’s dinners. He always insists on carrying the heavier bags while you are busy carrying flowers (he insists on paying for them and never takes no as an answer). Whenever you finished practice earlier and the witches were busy with coven duties, Yoongi took you to one of the many restaurants along the coastline. You shared so many lovely evenings in little restaurants, chatting over food for you and coffee for him. You have been getting to know each other even better because of it. Speaking of talking, you do that a lot. Whilst driving around, visiting the market, eating at restaurants or walking along the beach. Also in bed. Be it after a passion-filled night, a lazy evening or a cozy morning. You truly talk a lot and it’s never getting boring.

Yoongi also spends a lot of time playing the guitar. It’s during those nights after practice and dinner and you agreed on healthy alone time, where you can watch him sit with his guitar by the beach or somewhere in the garden. Sometimes the wind blows just right and carries over his melodies while you relax on the patio with a good book. You like those nights as they are filled with tranquillity and somehow the cuddles you share afterwards feel a hundred times better.

You also spend a lot of time swimming. Yoongi not so much, because he hates getting into the water, but you really enjoy it. You spend most of your late mornings swimming in the ocean and sometimes one of the witches will join you and you will chat over life there.

Yoongi would either play the guitar sitting cross-legged on his towel or he would be somewhere inside, most definitely chatting with Jelena.

You like Jelena. She is lovely and sweet and her very obvious interest in Yoongi is still topic of many teasing comments you throw at him. He always whines and pouts, which results in you giggling. He never acted on her interest. One night you dared to suggest that he was allowed to act on them if he wanted to, which resulted in Yoongi genuinely getting mad at you and staying out all night. You made up the next day and he made you promise him to never ever suggest something like that again. You never did again and hugged him for a good hour before you left bed.

Said night was already forgotten and forgiven these days and life has been great. Truly and genuinely great.

You were in the shed. It was only an hour until sunset and the shed was flooded with golden light. The witches aren’t home today and won’t return until tomorrow. Coven duty somewhere in the mountains. A werewolf pack was attacked by werewolf hunters last night and the witches were called for aid. The hunters weren’t from the coast and still haven’t been located.

You and Yoongi stayed back. You for practicing and Yoongi for making sure the house stayed safe. The last time you saw him, he was in the kitchen with his lower arms covered in flour and his waist accentuated by an apron as he baked too many loaves of bread. That was a few hours ago.

A knock on the shed door makes you lift your head.

“How’s it going?” Yoongi asks. He is wearing a white button up and blue jeans. His arms are clean and the apron is shrugged off.

“Good. Did you finish the bread?”

“Yeah, they’re cooling down”, Yoongi says and walks to you. He sits down on the rattan chair next to you, resting his elbows on his knees. He reaches out, patting the top of your head, “show me what you got”, he says as he caresses the back of your head.

Yoongi gave you the task of practicing focus by painting flowers by using nothing but your magic.

You focus hard on lifting the brush and tipping it into the paints. You draw a small flower next to the one you practiced before he came inside. Then you end it with a heart in which you write his initials.

Yoongi chuckles fondly, rubbing the nape of your neck.

You place the brush back onto the ground, turning your head to beam up at him.

“And? That was really good, wasn’t it?”

“It was perfect, my love”, Yoongi praises.

You giggle, turning in your position so you were facing him. Like this, you are sitting on the ground in front him, cross-legged and with your eyes sparkling just for him.

“I’ll be an artist if I continue being that great, right?”

“Of course”, he smiles fondly, caressing your cheek, “you’ll be the greatest artist.”

“You’ll buy my art, won’t you?”

“Of course, my sweet princess.”

You wiggle your shoulders because he makes you feel good. He studies your face with love drunk eyes.

“Hey, Yoongs?” you ask.

“Yes, my love?”

“You know what we talked about on Sunday?”

“Of course. Why?”

“I thought about it and I think I want to do it tonight.”

Yoongi widens his eyes for just a second, before his fond warm gaze returns.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do that for me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not doing it for you. I want to try it”, you say, reaching out to feel up his shin mindlessly, “when you put your fingers up there, it felt really good and you’re always so gentle. And the witches aren’t here tonight, which means we can be loud. Yeah”, you feel your cheeks heat up, “I wanna try it.”

He smiles gently, caressing your chin as he has it between his thumb and pointer finger. His head tilts to the side, his eyes lower fondly.

“Then we gotta do it”, he says, “princess’ orders, yeah?”

You laugh, nodding your head. Yoongi chuckles and places his hand on the back of your head to tilt it up and kiss your forehead.

“You’re so cute”, he says, guiding his kisses down along your nose until he can claim your lips in a kiss.

You sigh, hooking your arms behind his head and getting to your knees instantly. Yoongi’s body follows your movements instinctively and just seconds later, you are on his lap without the kiss ever turning awkward.

Yoongi runs his big hands up and down your body. He feels up your legs, butt, hips and back, he lingers on your cheeks and switches up between touching you and hugging you against his chest. It feels so good. He feels so good.

By the time, you break the kiss for the first time, your hips are squirming on his thigh and your breathing is quickened. Yoongi looks up at you warmly. His chest heaves up and down as well, his hands are on your hips.

“You got me so good”, you say and giggle.

“I know, princess love. I can smell it”, Yoongi says, smiling fondly.

“God, embarrassing”, you say, hiding away in the crook of his neck.

“Why?” Yoongi says and chuckles, patting your butt, “I like it. Why’s it embarrassing?”

“Because I can’t even be secretly horny with you.”

He laughs, “why you wanna be secret about it? Don’t hide that from me”, he says and grabs your butt just so he can tug you snug against him. You gasp because of it, writhing from the sudden pressure on your warmth, “I love that smell, don’t you dare tryna keep that from me”, he rasps, moving your hips back and forth.

“Yoongi”, you sigh, feeling deep tingles in your tummy.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Feels good.”

“Mhm, I know”, he whispers and stops even if you whine in complaint.

“Don’t stop.”

“Mhm”, he hums, getting to his feet with you in his arms, “let’s get you inside. It’s getting too cold.”

You know what will come soon and it makes you press yourself closer to him.

“But you have to go somewhere else when I get cleaned. It’s embarrassing”, you tell him.

“I promise. You can have all the privacy you need.”

Yoongi goes downstairs as you get cleaned. Of course he does, because when he promises something he actually means it. You don’t feel stressed or nervous about getting yourself ready for him, because you know that he will give you all the time you need.

You don’t bother to put on clothes once you are happy with the result. Instead, you pick out a set of lingerie with matching stockings and the necklace Yoongi got you. A droplet of his blood was infused into a blue gemstone and the purest gold frames it in a delicate heart shaped pendant. Knowing how much such a present meant with him makes you want to cry each time you put it on.

You feel really pretty, making your way downstairs with a skip in your steps.

You find Yoongi in the kitchen, humming to himself as he listens to music through his ear buds and washes the tomatoes he picked from the garden. He will make dinner with them later.

You close the distance between you and him, snaking your arms around him from behind.

“Mhm”, Yoongi lifts his head and presses back into you.

He dries his hands, takes out his ear buds and touches you.

“Don’t mind me”, you say.

He turns in your arms, showing off the smile he sports. It grows as his eyes land on your body.

“Oh, princess”, he says, picking you up just to lift you on the kitchen counter, “look at you. You shouldn’t have dressed up.”

“Why not?”

“Because”, he presses his hips against you, feeling up your lower back, “now I gotta rip this off of you. You are so beautiful, fucking shit look at you.”

You laugh, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you like it?” you ask, posing for him.

“I love it”, he says, running his hands over the fabric of your panties and stockings, “where’d you hide that from me? It’s fucking beautiful on you.”

“In my suitcase.”

“Mhm princess”, he purrs, running his hands up your torso until he can trace your bra, “I should spank your cute butt for keeping this from me for so long.”

You draw closer, tangling your fingers in his long hair.

“Fuck it instead”, you whisper.

Yoongi’s eyes flit to your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a lopsided smirk tugs at the corner of them a second later.

“Deal?” you ask, gazing at his lips.

“You already know my answer, princess”, he rasps, drawing closer until his kiss is just a tilt of your head away. The tension twists your stomach addictively.

“I need to hear it”, you sigh.

“Fuck, don’t tease”, he rasps with heavy eyes. One more second without your kiss will kill him.

“I’m not. Say it”, you whisper, feeling dizzy from denial.

“Deal”, he breathes, placing his hand on the back of your head, “now fucking come here and let me seal it.”

You let him pull you in with a moan of his name and your legs closing around his waist instantly. He growls deeply, picking up from the counter to carry you with one arm. His hand never leaves your face, except for when he feels up your torso hungrily.

He knows the way upstairs, using his senses to walk safely while his lips are lost in you.

He nudges the door closed with his foot and carries you to bed. He doesn’t stop kissing you as he lays you down on it, claiming the emptiness between your legs for himself. Your legs are over his thighs, his knees are digging into the mattress. Like this, he can grind his clothed cock into you. The dent in his jeans is so unbearably noticeable to your sensitive pussy.

Yoongi breaks the kiss to instead dance his lips over your jawline and neck. His hands are feeling up your legs.

“You feel so good”, you sigh, writhing under him sensually. Your hands are on his chest, trying to open his shirt.

“I can’t get enough of you, princess”, he whispers, changing sides of your neck, “my beautiful love, fucking look at you.”

His fingers play with the hem of your panties and slip inside. Not in the front but at the side of your hips, where your skin is so sensitive. He tugs slightly.

“Don’t rip them”, you say, squirming away, “I really like them.”

He smirks against your neck.

“Fine”, he says and without warning picks you up just enough that your butt is off the mattress and he can pull down your panties.

You laugh, writhing in his hands with your eyes glued to his face. You get so giddy whenever he shows his strength. It’s so nice to know that you are in such strong and safe hands with him.

Yoongi chuckles, “cute.”

“It’s so hot when you lift me.”

“I know princess, I can smell it”, he says and guides your panties to his nose to take in your scent. He growls playfully, flashing his eyes ruby, “so sweet”, he lulls, letting the panties disappear in his front pocket a second later.

“Touch me”, you choke out, feeling lightheaded. There won’t ever go a day by where this shit doesn’t ruin you.

“Patience. I gotta savour you”, he says, placing himself over you again. He lowers himself to your collarbones, touching your sides, “I’d be a fool if I didn’t”, he adds in a whisper before he runs his lips over your skin.

The touch is electric, making you sigh. You close your eyes and fall into him. Falling is so goddamn easy when you know that it’s Yoongi’s hands which will catch you. And they will always catch you, no matter when or where, he won’t ever let you collide.

Yoongi lifts his lips when he is between your clothed breasts. He glances up at you, finding heaven in how blissed you look.

“You’re so beautiful”, he says honestly and lowers his lips to your soft breasts to kiss them, “so fucking beautiful.”

“There…” you sigh, arching your chest into him.

“There?” he whispers, sucking on the spot of before. The one which made you arch so cutely and which makes you arch even cuter right now.

“Yoongi”, you squeak in a giggle, writhing between his hands.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asks in a smile, feeling up your sides.

“It’s just…good.”

“Cute”, he says, changing the paths of his kiss to feel up your tummy instead. There is no other tummy on this earth which is as perfect as yours. Yoongi loves every single inch of it, memorising the paths of it with his eyes closed and his tongue tasting your skin hungrily.

By the time he reaches your lower tummy, your skin isn’t the only thing wet. You already were before, but now you are soaked, filling Yoongi’s nose with the sweetest scent.

“Your scent, holy fuck”, he murmurs into you as he buries his face in the softness of your inner thigh.

You reach down and twist his hair, bucking your hips up. His eyes open, meeting your gaze.

“Please”, you beg.

“Don’t rush it”, he whispers and switches legs, “relax princess, I’m getting there.”

“Oh god, I need it so bad”, you whine, tugging on his hair.

“Mhm, me too. Need to taste you so bad”, he lulls, running his tongue down your thigh. The contact is wet and hot, leaving you to throb around nothing.

He turns his head.

“Ah”, you moan without needing to be touched. The aspect of it is already enough to turn you weak.

“So fucking sweet”, he rasps, letting the words swirl over your pussy.

“Please”, you beg.

“Mhhm”, he purrs, drawing closer until you can feel his warmth radiate of his lips.

“Yoongi”, you moan, tugging on his hair.

“Cute”, he rasps, putting distance between you and your sweetest pleasure.

“No, back”, you beg, trying to push him down but he is stronger.

He chuckles, “you’re so cute”, he rasps, doing the unthinkable of sitting up.

Your fingers slip from his hair this way, gripping his belt loop instead.

“Please don’t”, you beg.

“Patience. I’m just getting the toys.”

“I just wanna be touched, please”, you whine, knowing that it is fruitless to beg.

“You’re adorable”, he says as he is busy with retrieving the bag.

Waiting for him to get the toys from his suitcase and return to bed is torture. You need his touch so bad.

Yoongi sits down next to you, opening the toy bag to look through it. Not that he has to do a lot of looking as he has all the toys sorted into their own compartments. He is organised like this. It’s so attractive that he is.

He opens the buttplug compartment and takes out the silicon toy. You eye it and gulp.

“You can stop this anytime you need to, yeah? I won’t be upset with you”, Yoongi says, who watches it happen.

“I don’t wanna stop. I’m just really excited.”

Yoongi smiles, “I’m excited too, my love”, he says shimmying down your body with the plug and lube equipped.

You open your legs without needing to be told to, looking at him with a racing heart.

The lube bottle opens with a click. Yoongi makes sure that he covers his fingers thoroughly.

“Relax”, he says and connects his lubed up fingers with your hole.

“Fuck. Yoongi”, you get out, closing your legs in reaction. They fall open again a second later, your hips squirm needily.

“You’re so perfect, my princess”, he praises, rubbing slow circles. You whine in reaction and buck your hips up. Yoongi understands instantly. It’s time for him to take the next step. With a little bit of pressure, he lets his middle finger slip inside.

You inhale sharply, releasing it as a shaky “oh god”, a second later. Your eyes fall closed and your nose scrunches up.

“There we go. All relaxed around me”, he praises, pumping his finger in and out slowly, “you’re doing so well.”

“It feels really good.”

“Yeah? It feels good for me too, princess. You’re so soft inside”, Yoongi says, curling his finger.

“More?”

“Already?”

“Yeah, please. I’m horny”, you giggled the last words, earning yourself a soft chuckle from him.

“Gladly”, Yoongi says and pushes his ring finger inside. You tense up, whimpering softly. He places his hand on your lower tummy and rubs slow circles on it, “relax your muscles, you’re too tense.”

“Sorry, it surprised me”, you say and follow instantly, shuddering because of how good it feels to relax. His fingers are filling you out so well, giving you just enough of a stretch that you are experiencing a constant wave of warm tingles.

“There we go, that’s so much better”, he praises and begins scissoring them carefully, “you’re doing such a good job, my lovely princess. Relax, my love, so good”, he talks you through the amazing sensation, switching his fond gaze between your wet pussy and glowing face.

“It’s so good”, you sigh, “I like it so much.”

“I love it too, princess”, he says and slips his thumb to your clit as a reward for being the most perfect.

And there you go, tensing up again. But this time for different reasons. You mewl, tilting your head back as your hips buck into his hand. All the teasing he did before left you feeling so sensitive that this simple touch is already too much.

“Relax for me, relax”, Yoongi says softly, rubbing your clit slowly.

“It’s hard when, when you m-make me wanna cum”, you stutter, writhing on the sheets.

“Cute”, Yoongi says, slipping his thumb from your clit even if that makes you whine for more.

“Edging noo, is…no”, you mumble, cracking him up.

“Whiney baby”, he teases, slipping his fingers out.

“Yoongi noo”, you whine, “I don’t have to cum, I lied.”

He laughs, “yeah sure. Relax princess, I’m getting the plug. Yeah?”

“Yeah”, you say, glancing down at it, “oh god, I’m so horny.”

“Me too, love.”

He rubs lube on it and connects it with your hole. He places his hands back on your tummy, sending you a comforting look.

“This will stretch you more than my fingers, but I believe in you”, he says and smiles, “but you can stop whenever, don’t forget that.”

“Just push it inside, please”, you beg, opening your legs wider.

Yoongi lets his eyes flit down to your middle. He applies pressure and after a second of struggle, the toy slips inside.

“Oh? Oh yeah that hah”, you chuckle and drop your head in the pillow.

“Too much?”

“Don’t stop, I’m good. It’s new, but I’m good”, you say, pushing into him. The toy slips deeper into you, faltering again when you reach the thickest part.

“Just one more time”, he encourages you and pushes gently.

“Yoongi”, you get out and then you reach for his hand to hold. He intertwines his fingers with you, looking at your face with his brows furrowed in concentration.

The plug slips inside, filling you out completely.

“Oh fuck”, you press out in a whisper, squeezing his hand.

“It’s bigger than my fingers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” you get out and mewl.

“You’re doing so well taking it that easily. I can take it out if you want.”

“No just…let me get used to it.”

“Okay”, Yoongi says and places himself over you. Like this, his hands are on each side of your head dimpling the pillow and his black hair hangs into his face. “I’m so fucking proud of you, princess love.”

“Yoongi…kiss me”, you plead, feeling how deeply affected you are by his praise. You relax around the toy and your tummy tingles like crazy, “I’m, I’m serious if you don’t kiss me soon I’ll, I’ll start cry-”

Yoongi interrupts you by kissing you deeply. Your brain turns off, your body shudders in relief. You are kissing him. You are kissing your Yoongi. And it’s paradise.

You reach for him with a whimper of his name, twisting the front of his shirt. Yoongi lowers himself to his elbows, bending his arm in a way which allows him to cradle your head and play with your hair. The kiss to your lips breaks, but he litters your face with kisses and that makes up for it.

“Don’t cry, princess”, he whispers, “I’m right here”, he promises, nuzzling into your neck. Neck kisses feel like heaven on normal days, but he’s got you so charged that you could cry out for him right now.

“Yoongi”, you whimper, grabbing a bundle of his hair.

“Keep me close, princess”, he sighs, kissing a path to your cheek, “you’re doing so well with everything, I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

You spill tears. They were happy tears. Yoongi doesn’t notice them, kissing a path to your lips. He claims them, swallowing the whimper you let out. His right hand smoothes over your hair while his left arm snakes under your back. With a small show of strength he lifts your upper body, pressing you against his chest. He uses enough pressure that you can feel how all those tight knots in your chest burst. You didn’t even know that you had them, but feeling his warmth on your chest in a gentle and constant pressure relieved you of stresses you had sitting deep inside you.

“I love you”, you press out because this is all you get out. Yoongi smiles against your lips, kissing his way back to your neck.

“I love you too, princess.”

He lowers you back to the sheets and slips his left hand to your side instead.

“I love you so much”, you press out and sob softly.

“I love you so much too, princess”, Yoongi says, kissing his way down to your tummy.

You don’t like that he stops cradling you like this, but you can’t even complain because he is worshipping your tummy. His big hands are gliding over your waist, holding you safely, while his tongue and lips take the paths they already took before. But unlike before, it makes you twist the fucking pillow in desperation.

“I’m gonna go insane, princess”, Yoongi lulls, “you smell so fucking sweet. You know that?”

“Please don’t pull away again”, you beg, writhing in his strong hands. He is mere inches away from your pussy, “if, if you pull away I-I’ll cry.”

He chuckles, “you’re so cute”, he says, “relax, my princess. I won’t pull away”, he whispers and buries his tongue between your folds.

“Oh my god! Yoongi!” you squeak put, closing your legs around his head and grabbing his hair with both hands.

Yoongi purrs, pushing your legs apart gently. He keeps his hands on your shaking thighs to rub them, purring around your clit as he sucks on her slowly.

“Yoongi!” you mewl, digging your head into the pillow as you arch your back. Your legs slip over his shoulders and kick his lower back.

“Mhm”, he grunts, punishing you by burying himself deeper.

“Yoongi please, holy fuck”, you sob, tugging at his hair to both push him closer and pull him away. You have no idea what you need more. A break or for him to never ever stop. And he barely even does anything. He merely purrs and sucks on your clit, includes the occasional lick and squeezes your thighs. Yoongi could eat your pussy differently. Trust, that he could be very different right now and yet this mere appetiser of what he could do is already enough to make you act like a pleasure dumb idiot.

“Yoongi”, another mewl of his name comes easy to you.

Yoongi answers you by breaking away from you and forcing that addictive fire in your pussy to die down again.

“Why?” you croak and sob, “Yoongi why?”

“You’re so cute, holy fuck I gotta fucking put you in my pocket, you cutest princess”, he babbles as he kisses a path down to your plugged hole.

He wraps his fingers around the base of the toy and with a kiss to your buttocks pulls it out of you. It feels warm and makes you moan. The girthiest part doesn’t hurt at all and the sensation of your hole closing up in sync with the toy getting thinner is unfamiliar but fucking addicting.

Yoongi wastes no unnecessary time. He is a smitten man on a mission. A mission to make his dream girl scream on his tongue. He dismisses the toy and grabs your hips. With just a little bit of his strength, he picks them up and tilts them so he can bury himself between your legs.

Your hole is still relaxed enough that he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. He lets it grow until it’s a little longer than the plug was and it fills you out so well that he can feel your muscles trying to fight him.

“Yoongi”, his name slips off your tongue again and Yoongi feels your walls pulsate around his tongue. Your taste is richer than that of your pussy. Yoongi has to hump the mattress because of it, growling into you as he fucks you with his tongue.

“Oh god, holy fuck”, you moan, panting like crazy.

This feels as if you are getting the wettest and hottest toy stuck into you. You thought that getting your pussy fucked with it feels intense, but this is on a whole other level. You are so stretched out like this. Even more than you were when he plugged you. It doesn’t hurt at all. The kisses and touches and sweet licks made you so incredibly relaxed for him, his praises did the rest. So having his big, long tongue fuck your hole doesn’t hurt and yet it still feels as if you can’t do it. You shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be allowed to feel so goddamn good. Your legs shake and try to close on him, but Yoongi shakes you off, burying himself deeper until the tip of his nose is buried in your pussy.

“Fucknmgn”, the curse is muffled by your body, but it still reaches your ears. Your scent is quite literally suffocating him and Yoongi lets you know just what this does to him by wiggling his tongue quickly and using his neck muscles to grind his nose all over your pussy.

“Why are you doing this?” you keen, throwing your arm over your eyes, “please stop, Yoongi. Please stop, please.”

“Hey”, he is off of you instantly, “hey, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Please don’t do this, please just fuck me”, you beg, spilling tears, “I can’t take this anymore. Please just fuck me, please.”

Yoongi relaxes, slipping your legs from his shoulders to caress them instead.

“Don’t talk like this princess, I was so scared that I hurt you”, he whines, nudging you.

“It’s so good, I can’t breathe”, you whimper, sending him a blurry look, “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad.”

“Never”, he says, leaning down to kiss your tummy, “fuck, I just really fucked it for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now I know how you taste in both holes”, he chuckles deeply, “fuck baby, don’t expect me to be normal from now on. I’m gonna fucking live between your legs from now on.”

You mewl, “please fuck me. Please!”

“Are you sure?” he asks as he nibbles on your inner thigh. He is so close to your pussy that he brushes against you every now and then, “can’t I taste you more? Please?”

“I, I’ll cum if you do”, you stutter.

“Mhm, you’re torturing me”, he rasps and bites you just hard enough that you squeak.

“Please”, you giggle, twisting his hair.

He chuckles, kissing the sensitive spot, “fine, I’ll get ready.”

“Please.”

Yoongi breaks away from you to undress. Finally his tight jeans stop squishing his swollen cock. Yoongi throws them on the ground angrily. They were so painful to be stuck in. He steps out of his briefs and slips his shirt off. Then he runs his hands through his long hair. It falls prettily, framing his features.

“Jeans are products of demons, no fucking joke”, he says, climbing back on bed, “I think I bruised my cock.”

You snicker, “oh no, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, just glad to be with you again��, he assures you, connecting himself with you by caressing your hip, “let me fix you, yeah?”

“Okay.”

Yoongi lifts you and places you onto the mattress with you resting on your side. He pushes the leg, which rests on top, up the mattress, making sure that it’s bent by the knee. He runs his hand along your stockings and then up to your ass at the back of your leg.

“There we go. That’s better, isn’t it?” he speaks softly.

“Yeah…” you croak, twisting the sheets. You need him so bad that it hurts.

“Tell me when you need a pillow”, he says and breaks the touch for the sake of getting his cock ready.

“I’m comfy”, you say.

“That’s good. Fuck ___, I’m so fucking hard you have no idea”, he lulls his words and a wet squelching sound fills the air. He is definitely jerking himself off with the lube. The thought makes you leak.

“You won’t grow, will you? I don’t think that I can handle this yet”, you ask shyly.

“No princess, I won’t grow. Don’t be scared”, he assures you.

“Okay, thank you for telling me that”, you say and turn your head. He is close enough that you can reach behind yourself and touch his hip, “please don’t hold back anymore.”

He smiles and lets you tug him closer, placing his hand on your hip.

“I love it when you’re acting this way”, he says, holding his cock by its base so he can guide it to your hole. He pushes at your hip, fixing your position gently. Like this, you are exposed to him. Yoongi stares at it with ruby eyes, rubbing his wet cockhead against your hole.

“So pretty”, he lulls, licking his lips, “can’t believe I had my tongue in there. You’re so goddamn pretty.”

“Please”, you beg, arching into him.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect", Yoongi says and pushes into you.

The breach doesn’t hurt, but it’s unfamiliar. His cock is definitely bigger than any of the other amazing things you took up your ass tonight. His fingers were nice, the plug intense and his tongue maddening, but his cock is filling. The word isn’t the sexiest, but it’s the truth. You feel so whole now that he is slipping inside. Like a part missing has finally returned to you. You whimper and tense up, reaching for his hand instinctively.

“Hurts?” he asks.

You shake your head, giving him a pleading look to please keep going.

Yoongi smiles and squeezes your hand. His eyes flit back to where he disappears.

“Relax. I’ve got you”, he says and pushes deeper. His tummy tenses, and his brows furrow, “fuck. Relax my love, yeah? Relax”, his voice is shaking just a little.

“Yoongi, I’m so stuffed”, you mewl, looking at him with teary eyes. You are so glad that Yoongi filled you with his tongue before he did it with his cock. You don’t think that you could have handled how it is to truly feel him if it wasn’t for his tongue giving you the most intense sneak peek of it.

“Breathe for me, love. B-breathe oh fuck”, he falls to his hands, letting out a shaky moan. His hair falls into his face, “breathe. You gotta, gotta b-breathe.”

You can’t stop staring. His brows are furrowed, his lips curled back as he shows his fangs in a grunt. Being filled up by him starts to feel a million times better instantly. Which means a lot, because it already felt like heaven before that.

“Breathe baby, fucking breathe”, he gets out and moans, filling you with his last inch. “Mhngn”, he lets out, scrunching his nose up, “breathe”, he squeaks.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Mhm yeah, I’m fine. You just have the tightest ass ever, I’m fine”, he says in a pitched voice, making you laugh.

“Oh god, this is so funny”, you say.

“Don’t laugh, holy fuck”, he croaks and moans, grabbing your hand just to slam it into the sheets and pin it down. He rolls his hips into you in an involuntary thrust, his throat produces a little whimper.

“I can’t help it. I’m taking your cock, I’m happy”, you say between giggles.

“Fucking fuck, you’re gonna fucking kill me”, he presses out under his breath and somehow forces his eyes to open. He turns his head, looking down at you, “you’re such a fucking goddess. Holy fuck.”

You squirm, clenching around him. You try to reach for his face, but can’t as he pins you down. So you end up holding his wrist with your other hand, mewling his name as you tense around him again.

“Wanna move”, he lulls.

“Please move.”

Yoongi pulls out halfway so he can roll into you smoothly. The sensation feels electric, forcing an honest and loud moan out of you.

“Yes princess, keep moaning for me. I fucking love it when you do”, he encourages you, ending it with a small whimper again, “I’m gonna fucking cry. You’re so tight, holy fuck”, he whispers under his breath, chasing you in deep rolls of his hips.

In and out, in and out. Feeling each of those movements so quickly after the other is a whole other experience. When he played with your hole or stuffed it, you didn’t have this constant change. But now you do and it’s making you gasp for air.

“That’s it, princess. Keep breathing”, his voice is hoarse from exhaustion, “I’m gonna have to fucking nut soon, but don’t mind me.”

“God, don’t tell me that, you’re making me laugh again”, you say, having to crack up.

“Yeah fuck, it’s happening”, he says and groans, letting his mouth fall open. His hand squeezes yours as his cock throbs deep inside you, “you’re so fucking mean”, he whines, shaking atop of you.

“Yoongi”, you gasp and moan, “Yoongi, holy fuck. Are you actually?”

“Yeah…baby”, he purrs.

It sticks to your insides warm and wet. He is actually cumming right now. Two minutes and he is a goner. The thought that it is your ass which broke him so soon, makes you dizzy. You chase him with rolls of your hips, tensing up at the feeling. You’re so tight and now you're spreading his cum all over his cock, getting messy in the process. He slips in and out of you so much better, filling your veins with ecstatic pleasure.

“Yeah, yah, mhm”, he lets out, lowering his head to kiss your cheek, “fuck”, he chuckles, “sorry for that, I’d have died if I didn’t let go.”

“It’s fine. Just…I want more.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good now. Fuck princess”, he straightens up, grabbing your leg to bend it and open you up for him, “imma fuck that bred, little hole until you’re screaming”, he rasps, finally moving his hips. He starts off in a slow, yet deep rhythm, spreading you open for him with a strong hand pushing down on your hip and therefore keeping it tilted just for him. It gives your muscles a gentle stretch and opens you up so well for him that you can feel how you move around him.

“Yoongi”, you mewl, tilting your head back as your mouth falls open.

“Does it hurt? I can slow down”, he speaks with a deep rasp on his voice. You know that overstimulation is keeping his cock sensitive, but because you’re dating a literal maniac he uses the pain as motivation to get you off.

“Don’t slow, please faster”, you beg.

He speeds up, putting a smooth roll of his hips into the movements. His fingers dimple your flesh, his naked thighs collide with the back of your legs and his cock shapes your creamed hole. Like this, his hair slaps into his face each time he moves, forcing him to keep his eyes closed in order not to the get it all in them. He grunts each time he bottoms out, giving you glimpses of his fangs whenever he pulls his lips back.

“More, I need more”, you beg.

“Yeah? Reach into the bag, there’s a vibe in there.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You know exactly where to look. You used the toy on too many occasions to count. With trembling fingers you turn it on and press it to your clit.

“Yoongi”, you mewl, writhing under him.

“That’s it, princess. Make yourself feel good. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect”, he praises, using the grip he has on your thigh to pull you onto his cock. He meets his own movements in the middle, rolling his hips into you.

“It’s a lot”, you mewl.

“Yeah? I’ll slow down”, he assures you, but you start rutting back into him instantly, “fuck princess”, he is laughing lazily, “stop whining ‘bout it bein’ too much when you don’ mean it”, he lulls, connecting his hand with your buttock in a gentle spank, “so fuckin’ naughty.”

“More”, you beg, “you’re making me cum. More.”

Yoongi spanks you gently, gripping the flesh afterwards to part you and stuff you with his cock. His creamy cum is leaking out of you and covering his cock. The quick movements of his hips turned it all white and milky by now. Yoongi fucks it right back into you, covering your stretched rim with it and parts of his dark pubes. The view motivates him to fuck you deeper, harder, better.

“You’re so fucking perfect being all bred by me. My own perfect cum goddess”, he pants, slamming into you so hard that his balls slap your ass.

You mewl for more, clenching around him. And so Yoongi gives it to you. He spanks your ass, holding you open afterwards to watch his cock disappear inside your tight hole.

“Now”, you croak and yelp up.

“Yes fuck”, Yoongi growls, burying himself to the hilt and staying right there so he can feel you pulsate and throb, “you’re so fucking perfect, shit princess so perfect.”

“It feels so good”, you mewl, shaking like crazy as your body fills with warmth, “Yoongi, it feels so good.”

“I know baby, I know. Keep it right there, you’re not done yet”, he says and begins moving again. Slowly at first because he is aware that you never experienced cock up your ass so soon after your high. You are tight. So goddamn tight that if Yoongi hadn’t climaxed already, he would have done so right now. He grinds his teeth and growls deeply, dimpling your flesh from gripping you so tightly, “keep breathin’ baby, I’m not done. You gotta get fucked more, my perfect woman.”

“Yoongi”, his name leaves you like a prayer. You push back into him, thanking yourself for doing so as Yoongi uses the opportunity to tug you into another position. Resting on your tummy and with your hips held up by him. You use zero strength, shaking in his hands as Yoongi keeps pulling you onto his creamed cock.

“Such a pretty princess, you’re made for my cock. It’s fucking insane how good you feel”, he praises and moans in a deep growl. His hips are angled differently this way.

“What are you doing?” you mewl, kicking the sheets. You try to writhe away from him for the sole reason of being scared of how hard you are falling. You can feel his cock hit your g-spot this way. You know that he is still in your ass, as you feel stuffed to the brim, but he is still hitting your g-spot. He shouldn’t be able to do this to you and yet he is. You can’t handle it, it’s too good. You can’t handle it. “What are you doing?” you sob, barely holding onto the vibrator by now.

“Keep the vibe there, princess”, Yoongi orders you, eyes glued to your ass. He can’t believe how beautiful you look when he fucks you.

“What are you doing? Yoongi please”, your voice is pitched in pleasure, your legs are shaking like crazy.

“You know what I’m doing. I’m giving it to you how you fucking deserve it. Feel how I give it to you?” he says, slamming his hips into you. Your ass is filled to the brim and your g-spot gets hit.

You moan his name, arching into him. This is going to break you into a million pieces.

“Yeah you do. You’re such a perfect, fucking woman, you deserve everything. Fucking everything. Fuck”, he growls the last word, throwing his head back as his body falls into the sensations. His hair tickles his shoulders this way, reflecting the deep shine of your bedside lamp. His lips part, glistening in the lights and looking especially pink.

Not that you can see any of this as you are falling right with him with your face buried in the pillow, moaning like crazy as he scrambles your insides in the best way possible. Night has been kissing the earth for way too many minutes to count and yet you haven’t noticed yet. He makes you see the brightest colours behind your closed lids. A warm summer rain has started to fall on the earth and even that you didn’t notice as all you can hear are Yoongi’s ecstatic grunts and your bodies connecting in sinful movements. Also the hum of the vibrator and it’s fucking taunting it. Your clit is going to burst if you keep pressing it on there and yet you don’t want to take it away. You rub a small circle, regretting instantly as you feel how this forces your body to fall even harder.

“You’re making me cum”, you mewl with your pussy throbbing around nothing and his cock drilling your ass so good it feels like he is rewriting your definition of pleasure.

“Don’t hold back, love. Fall into it, I’m right here. Fade into me, baby”, he encourages you, fucking his cock into you as deep as possible and hitting your g-spot exactly where you are the most sensitive.

“Yoongi!” you yelp, breaking around him.

“Yes princess, that’s what I want from you”, Yoongi growls, picking you up even if you are shaking like crazy. He sits back onto his heels and bounces you on his lap. You are kneeling, barely holding your head up straight, “you perfect fucking goddess, cum for me”, he spits and presses his hand into your tummy with just enough pressure that you can physically feel how he is squeezing your g-spot against his cock.

It feels like there is no barrier between him and your favourite spot. You scream up, dropping the vibrator. At least you try to as before it slips out of your fingers, Yoongi takes your hand and presses it back against your clit. He hugs your waist this way, slamming his hips into you so harshly the room fills with loud sounds of skin slapping against skin and the bedposts croaking for help.

“Don’t stop”, he growls, “you perfect woman are gonna keep that pressed there until you’re wetting my fucking thighs.”

“Yoongi, I can’t”, you sob, reaching behind yourself just so you can grip him. You manage to grab a bundle of his hair, twisting it painfully.

Yoongi moans against your neck, squeezing you closer by your tummy. The pressure in it grows, now it actually feels as if he was fucking you without any barriers. But you know that he is. You know because your stretched hole has been convulsing around his cock ever since he started drilling you this way.

And you can’t take it anymore. The vibrator on your clit hurts so much, the pressure in your tummy is too much and his cock is ruining your ass. And there is this addictive feeling of having his naked, sweaty and hot body pressed against yours.

You break apart, screaming his name as you almost rip out his hair. And Yoongi growls like a fucking animal, fucking and squeezing and holding you hostage until you finally act how he wants you to act and you wet his thighs in harsh, strong spurts of warm pleasure.

“Yes princess. Fuck, ___”, he moans and fills you with his cum. You smell so good and feel so tight around him, Yoongi just has to make sure that the last thing your hot walls feel is his creamy cum marking you as his’. They should remember who can stretch and fuck and drill them so good. Moaning and panting like crazy, he fucks you both through your highs, milking your bodies dry until they can’t give any more.

“No more, please. Actually stop”, you beg once the fire of pleasure turned into the painful burn of overstimulation and his cock feels painfully big in your tight ass.

“You’re already done”, Yoongi speaks gently, turning off the vibrator and throwing it to the side, “take a deep breath, I’m lifting you.”

You follow, releasing it in a loud gasp as he slides you off of him. His cum squirts out of you instantly, ruining even more of his lap.

“Sorry, oh god”, you whimper, trying to clench.

“It’s okay, let it happen”, he soothes you, “you did so well, my love. Don’t worry about the mess, just relax”, he says and places you in the sheets as gently as possible.

He drapes his arm over you, resting on his hand so he can nuzzle into the side of your face and kiss you.

“I’m so proud of you, you did amazing”, he praises.

“I’m, I’m”, you stutter, shivering like crazy.

Yoongi presses himself closer, warming you with the naked skin on skin contact.

“I’ll get something to clean you and then you can already slip under the sheets, yeah?”

You nod your head, looking up at him with teary eyes. He dries your cheeks, holding your face safely.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks.

“No”, your voice is hoarse, “Yoongi?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I felt you against my g-spot.”

He smiles, “I know. Did you like it?”

“Yes”, you whisper and giggle.

“I loved it too, my princess”, he says and kisses your forehead, “you did fucking amazing for your first time. You took me so, so well.”

“It was the best first time ever”, you say, wiggling happily, “you’re the best person ever, Yoongi Boongie.”

“Mhm”, he pecks your cheek, “no, you are. Now excuse me for a moment, I’ll clean us up, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Of course, my love.”

“I’m so happy with you.”

Yoongi feels his tummy flutter, “I’m so fucking happy too, you have no idea.”

He cleans your bodies, brings you water and changes the sheets. He talks about the experience with you in great detail as he does all those things, listening to your words with great interest and speaking his own with a warm sparkle in his eyes. You both come to the same conclusion that you really needed to do it again in the near future. Afterwards, he tucks you into bed and plays with your hair because you asked him if he could. And you feel so well taken care of that you could burst into the most colourful of fireworks.

The rain is loud on the roof above your heads, filling the room with a constant pitter patter. His face is mere inches away from yours as you share a pillow. Your heads are almost hidden under the blanket, looking out just enough that you can still breathe. He is still caressing your face and head. You are this close to falling asleep, but don’t want to close your eyes. You don’t want to miss out on his face. His hair is all messy, but in a pretty, breathtaking kind of way and his features are looking so pretty in the dim lights. He is truly the most beautiful person ever and your heart races like crazy when you think about the fact that he is yours.

“Should we buy a house here?” he breaks the comfortable silence in a soft spoken voice.

“What do you mean?” you answer him with your voice lowered as well.

“We could buy a house here. With a view of the ocean and a sun flooded kitchen overseeing the garden”, he says, “let’s buy one that needs renovating, so we can do it together. I have ideas for the living room. I’m thinking conversation pit with a huge sofa to cuddle on. Maybe mould it outta clay, paint it blue, but you’re better with colours so I need your advice on that. And I want a bathtub in the bathroom, a big one so we both fit.”

“You wanna buy a house with me?” you ask in a trembling voice.

“I’d buy a castle with you, but we already have one”, he says, making you giggle and sniffle at the same time. He chuckles, booping your nose with his pointer finger.

“Yoongs, I don’t know what to say”, you get out, blinking rapidly.

“Yes, maybe?”

“You know my answer already, my beloved.”

“Please say it, it’ll feel so good.”

You smile, spilling tears, “yes Yoongs, let’s buy a fucking house here and get a goddamn conversation pit in the living room and a huge bathtub in the bathroom and, and let’s plant food in the garden and goddamn build a path to the beach. Goddamn it.”

Yoongi smiles, tearing up without ever spilling them.

“My love”, he whispers, cupping your cheek and running his thumb over your skin, “you’re my fucking everything.”

“You’re my fucking everything too, my love”, you say, closing the distance between you and him to kiss him.

Yoongi wraps his arms around and rolls you to your back, getting lost in the kiss with you as happy giggles rumble in his chest.

Days here at the coast are good. Great. Perfect. The days here are perfect.

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