#I need to flip Fives because I want to draw his tattoo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raibebe · 4 years

Text

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?” “Nope.” “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.) “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again. You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now… “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.” You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe. “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless. “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

#kafenetwork #johnny #seo youngho #johnny suh #nct #johnny smut #johnny fluff #nct smut #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #johnny fic #johnny fanfic

4K notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Note

tumblr has been eating all my asks recently and i think it ate my request so let's try this again. can you do 53, 69, and 83 for either ransom or ari (you can choose!!) love your writing btw <3

53) “Is that a tattoo?”

69) “Come here, baby, let Mommy/Daddy take care of you.”

83) “Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?”

Secretly tattooed daddy!Ari you say? I’m about to ruin myself but ok.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex), big old tattoo kink, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!!

You tapped your pen irritably on the document in front of you as you tried to concentrate on your work.

But you couldn’t because Ari was doing fucking pushups across the room from you.

He’d been doing them for the past five minutes, and you were getting wetter by the second, your skirt starting to stick to your thighs as you squirmed uncomfortably. You hated how much he turned you on, especially when the two of you were supposed to be going over field reports.

“Levinson! C’mon man, we only have like three more of these to get through.” You whined. “I wanna go home!”

That sly smirk he gave you as he stood up was not helping and you crossed your legs to hopefully relieve some of the tension.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He said in that low growl that made your ovaries flip. “Needed to break up the monotony somehow.”

“Sure.” You fought the urge to bang your forehead against the desk as you watched him run his hand over his neck. Your eyes were trained on the curve of his shoulders when you caught a glimpse of black lettering over his collarbone and felt yourself clench. “Is that a tattoo?”

“Hmm? Yeah, it’s an Eckhart Tolle quote. You ok there?”

You were decidedly not ok, biting your lips and almost ripping the report you were reading in half. The last thing you needed was for Ari fucking Levinson to figure out that you had a massive tattoo kink. But your brain was starting to go offline as you felt a low throbbing between your thighs.

“Is... is that the only one you have?” You practically moaned, cursing yourself in your mind for giving into your libido.

“No.” Damn that smirk, what a fucking tease. “You wanna see the rest of them?”

You just nodded vigorously as you started grinding yourself into your seat. His fingers moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as you gazed at him, groaning when he slid it down his shoulders.

There were several tattoos over his torso and upper arms, and when he turned around you saw a thin line of letters tracing over his spine. Everything below your waist was warm and pulsing as you looked at him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“What about you gorgeous?” He asked, a wicked glint in his eye as he grinned at you. “You got any ink?”

“Yeah.” You hated how squeaky your voice was when he stepped closer to you, you breath coming in shallow pants as you gazed up at him from your seat.

“Well?” He cocked his eyebrow and gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up even further.

“Huh? Right!” You tried not to giggle hysterically as you worked to unbutton your blouse.

Everywhere his eyes raked over your skin left a trail of fire, your skin heating under his gaze as he watched you undress. He whistled between his teeth when you tossed your blouse aside and stood up, his hand reaching out to turn you so he could examine the intricate tree that ran over your ribs and the right side of your back, moving into flowering vines as it trailed down your arm.

“This is extremely impressive, sweetheart.” Ari purred, his fingers tracing over the raised lines of ink on your shoulder. “Who would’ve thought you were hiding all this under those uptight little outfits.”

“Yeah, looks like we’re both full of surprises.” You bit your lip as you turned to him, bringing your own hands up to run over his tattoos.

His fingers trailed down your torso and over your hip before drawing up the hem of your skirt as he stepped closer to you. A moan escaped your chest as he ran his fingers over the inside of your thigh before brushing against the dampened silk of your panties.

“Shit, honey, you are soaked.” He growled, pressing his fingers to your sodden core as you gasped wantonly. “Come here, baby, let Daddy take care of you.”

“Oh, you want me to call you daddy?” Your voice was husky with desire as you ground against his fingers. “Not gonna fucking happen.”

A grin split your face when he huffed as you shoved him back into the chair, stepping forward until your thighs were spread over his lap. He groaned when you dipped your fingers down to undo his fly, drawing out his extremely impressive cock. Your entire mouth filled with saliva when you got a good look at it, thick and veiny and a perfect pink tip you would’ve sucked on if your pussy wasn’t aching with need.

“Shit, that looks uncomfortable.” You teased as you swiped your thumb over his slit and he tried to buck into you.

“Oh, you’re fucking dangerous.” He hissed as you sank down just enough for his tip to tease against your slick coated folds.

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?” You purred, sliding his tip inside you then stopping again. “Better ask me real nice.”

The sound he made when you sank down the rest of the way made your stomach flip. You didn’t move though, aside from bending forward to run your lips over the ink on his collarbone.

“Shit, god, please baby!” He cried when you clenched around him, your eyelashes skimming over his skin as you sucked a bruise against his chest.

“Mmm, good boy.”

You rose up slowly before dropping down into his lap again as he let out an obscene groan. The ache in your core finally started to ebb as you rode him, a warm coil replacing it. His cock was hitting every spot you needed it to, dragging through your warm channel until your eyes were rolling back in your skull.

He moved his hands to grip your hips, his fingertips digging bruises into your flesh as he took over your rhythm. The tip of his cock punched you in the cervix with a particularly vicious thrust and you screamed as you vision whited out and you came violently. Your body bowed backwards as you fluttered around him, catching yourself on his knees at the last second before you fell off him.

“Fuck, honey there’s still other people here!” He muttered giddily as he drew you back into lap.

“Sorry, you’re just so fucking big.” You whined, sagging forward against his chest as he fucked you through it.

He grinned into your hair as he held you tightly, his hips still pistoning into you as you moaned against his chest. The coil in your abdomen started tightening again as he twitched inside you.

“You feel so fucking good.” He growled, tucking his face into the hollow behind your ear as he nipped at your jaw. “God, I’m gonna come, gimme one more?”

The moan you let out was obscene as you clamped down on him, your fingers digging into his arms. Your torso rolled on a wave of pleasure and you pressed your chest to his before collapsing. Three more thrusts and he was gone, his cock swelling inside you until he was flooding you with his spend. He fucked it into you with staggering jabs, holding you tightly to his chest once he was finished.

“So, reports?” You said, pulling the rolling chair back towards the desk as he panted underneath you. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

——————————————————————————

Tags!!! (If your name is scored it won’t let me tag you so check your privacy settings!)

@msmarvelwrites

@sweeterthanthis

@gotnofucks

@unsaltedalmonds

@gudenuph

@hevans-angel

@rose-m22

@jennmurawski13

@dumb-ass-writer

@hydrasbitches

@kristopbishta

@haleemah

@yippikaiyaymotherfucker

@violet-amxthyst

@Thatzolagirl

@misshale21

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

@stargazingfangirl18

@starlightcrystalline

@jack-skellingtons-stuff

@chrissquares

@wayward-blonde

@travistheaussie

@thiskindahotkindamusic

@stan-all-the-things

@roleplaytaboo

@jnkyrds

@oops-aquarius

@riemasonline

@superoopuniverse

@ethereal-beaut-y

@Lex-Is-Up-All-Night-To-Get-Bucky

@ambthegamer

@tapouttt34

@hobbitingryffindor

@angrybirdcr

@unsaltedalmonds

@amerikakapitanyy

@lizette50

@patzammit

@dwights-new-plague

@tenaciousperfectionunknown

@daughterofthenight117

@obsessivereaderchick

@before-we-get-started

@missmintyross

@mariaenchanted

@Marvel-baby

@iwanttobekilledtwice

@banditmarkymark

@whxre4cevans

@harrysthiccthighss

@kaleeelizabeth58

@isysen

@babyb3ar

@WanderingAlice00

@shutupstevie

@muzzyandbusy

@sizzie9

@slytheriin2002

@badbleep88

@chubbybuckydumpling

@StanAllStarks

@dacreswhore

@quxxnxfhxll

@slytherinandoutasgard

@blackestpinkworld

@egcdeath

@wanderinglunarnights

@wandering-spiritash

@Cavilsgirltaurus

@bval-1

@chris-butt

@slothspaghettiwrites

@captain-asguard

@bonkywobble

@macgruberrr

#natalie answers #anon answered #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #tattoo kink

648 notes · View notes

cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

shot thru the heart, pt 3

pt 1 //pt 2

Steve staves off actually caving and asking Billy for the notes for as long as he possibly can. Which is like, four days.

He actually needs those notes, for real, because he hasn’t been able to write a single fucking thing except the day’s date on his paper since…. Since Billy started sitting behind him at the beginning of the semester. It’s just been distracting, okay? That’s all.

That’s all.

And if Steve thinks about this anymore his head is going to literally explode so-

“Hey, Hargrove.” Steve catches up to Billy just as they are both leaving class. And he spaces out for a millisecond thinking how every time he thinks about blonde-curls-blue-eyes he thinks Billy, but what he says is ‘Hargrove.’

Billy slows, looks over his shoulder a little like he’s letting Steve know he’s allowed to continue, but he doesn't stop walking. He’s a faster walker than Steve, even though Steve’s legs are longer. Too long- he feels like a fucking. One of those. Desert-deer things. Antelope? No, a gazelle- it’s a gazelle.

“I, uh,” Steve realizes he’s never actually walked anywhere with Billy before, and has never entertained the possibility, but he started talking, so he may as well keep going. “If you’re still cool with it, borrowing your notes would be like, really helpful.” Why does he sound so stilted?

“Sure.” Billy seems so impartial to the whole thing, but Steve grins, a little relieved.

“Great! Uh, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Billy nudges past him.

Now Steve’s standing alone on the sidelines of the main hall. And he feels warm all over again.

Steve is sitting at his desk the next day when a small stack of notes gets dropped in front of him- the paper snaps a little against the desk’s wood top.

Steve turns around in time to catch Billy sliding into the seat behind him.

“Hey,” Steve smiles, tries to think of something else to say like ‘thanks again’ when Billy goes,

“That's everything I have from this unit. Don’t write on them cause I want them back.”

“Okay,” Steve thinks Billy seems like he's trying to compensate for something. “Thanks again.”

Billy shrugs. But he does smile a bit. One of his nothing-matters-I'm-cool smiles.

“Maybe we could study together sometime-” Steve says before thinking about it at all, so it comes out way lower than he means it to so he has to clear his throat and go “If you want.”

Steve panics for a split second, something trying to flip over in his chest and he worries Billy’s gonna think he was asking something else, is gonna get him all wrong- but-

“If I didn't know better I’d say you were asking me to hangout, Harrington.” Billy laughs just a little. A little huff, sharp off his tongue.

Steve looks away, then looks back to Billy. “I mean, sure, yeah.”

Steve can swear Billy lights up for a second, smiles a little brighter, sits up more- but then, no. Billy only looks nonchalant again. “Hm. Maybe.” Then he looks back at his own notebook. And Steve takes that as a signal that the conversation is Now Over.

He turns back to his desk. Billy’s notes are still there.

It's days before the test, and Steve is sure that Billy's notes would be super helpful if he was actually reading them for clarity and understanding or whatever, but instead he’s discovered something entirely different, scribbled in the margins of almost every page; commentary. Billy writes literal commentary, more scrawly and casual than the rest of his legible nites.

Shit like; “Incorrect date in lecture but who’s gonna notice that certainly not the guy whos supposed to be fucking teaching us this no sir” and “just saw a bird out the window” and “Five minutes in and you have no idea what’s going on huh?”

That last one seems a little sweeter than the two before it, though. Like Billy’s talking to someone, other than himself.

Steve loves looking at those notes.

Loves the slopes and slants of the writing. Loves the commentary. Loves the little doodles Billy does in the margins. A knife with a spiraly handle. A skull that’s actually pretty good, could make a good tattoo maybe. Roses- lots of them. All different sizes. And a little heart with an arrow shot through it. Steve didn’t know Billy likes to draw. He’s not half bad. Steve smiles to himself a little. Runs his hand over one of the roses absently, wonders if they’re Billy's favorite because they’re Steves favorite, because they’re the classic-

Steve should probably be learning a lot more than he was though.

Steve actually studies for a few days. Like two, but still. He looks at Billy's notes multiple times. Actually invests time and energy into learning shit. So, you know, good for him. Good for him, managing to get good enough with Billy to actually reap the benefits of almost-friendship, because honestly maybe they could be friends, right? Maybe.

Hopefully.

Steve kind of likes sitting near Billy now, kind of likes the banter they have going, likes how Billy never makes him feel dumb, even if he calls him dumb…

But he still leaves class right as the bell rings, quick as a whip crack. Steve can barely even get in a ‘goodbye.’

He’s only a little disappointed, but it’s not like he has any reason to care-

He looks down.

Billy’s notebook. On the ground in the desk aisle.

It must have fallen out of Billy’s backpack on his brisk way out.

Steve scoops it up, shoves it in his backpack, and is out the door without so much as a second thought.

The second thoughts kick in when Steve gets home. When he tosses his backpack on his bed and paces around like that's gonna do anything before walking back over and pulling Billy’s notebook out and just, Holding it. Looking at it. Feeling overcome with.. Something.

He should open it. No, he shouldn’t, it’s not his.

But he wants to.

Billy ripped out pages to give him notes, clearly there’s stuff in here for Billy’s eyes only.

Steve can’t help himself.

He opens it.

And honestly, it’s pretty standard stuff. Old notes. More commentary that Steve relishes with every new word. A doodle of Bugs Bunny holding a joint that’s actually pretty good.

And a half-ripped page in the back that reads:

“Literally so beautiful it’s impossible not to-

But I don’t think you’re a dumbass-

I promise. Which is dumb, bec-

but I can’t help myself. I-

wish you knew how -

wonder if I’m i-

smells good-

Stupid-”

It’s a love letter. Steve’s dumb, but he’s not stupid. No doubt in his mind- this is a love letter.

Steve sits there. Reading the broken up sentences, over and over.

Billy wrote a love letter. Unmistakably his handwriting. Pieces of beautiful ideas about someone Billy is clearly crazy about-

And Steve’s heat sinks. Sinks all the way down from its high-falutin place in his throat, pushing at the back of his tongue down, down, into the darkest pit of his stomach. Immediately he knows-

That warm feeling from before? The all consuming too-hot cinnamon and grease feeling from before was not jealousy.

This is jealousy.

The idea that Billy cares about someone enough to write them a letter in his perfect pretty collected handwriting makes Steve sick with envy. He just sort of figured he was the only person relevant enough to take up Billy's brainspace. Not like anyone else thinks about Steve in any way anymore…

Steve drops the notebook back on his bed like it burned him. He sits on the edge of his bed, tilts his head up to the ceiling, closes his eyes.

Fuck. Fuck please dear god why now.

Steve wished this was the first time this had happened. The first time he'd stumbled his way into thinking about a guy like that.

But it wasn't. God he didn't want to have to think about this. He tries never to think about this shit. It wasn't like it happened all the time, wasn't like he couldn't just wait for it to go away like he had before.

But it did mean he had to stop talking to Billy right the fuck now.

No more copying his notes. No more maybe-hanging out. No more fucking banter in class. Steve needed to crush this… fluke. Before it became anything worse.

But if he was so resolved to not think about Billy like that, then why couldn’t he just get rid of the torn letter?

part 4 coming sooon! the thrilling conclusion !!!

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my fic

162 notes · View notes

justjuiceyboy · 3 years

Text

new beginnings

in which Happy is the readers tattoo artist

word count: 1,637

warnings: swearing

(a/n: I’m basically becoming a blog for Happy, will get back to writing Juice soon, just got this idea and knew I had to run with it. Hope you all enjoy and if you ever want to request my asks are open! Love you all, thanks for supporting!)

———————————

7:45 p.m. The sun was setting, causing an array of colours over the buildings of Charming, lighting up the place like a movie. The air was fresh, warm as it was the middle of July. You strolled along the footpath and kicked a small rock as you walked, to calm your nerves. You had made the quick decision with your friend to get tattoos together on this day. But you were walking alone, friendless.

You were not ever going to get a tattoo alongside your ’friend’ who you had caught sleeping with your boyfriend of two years. Two years and he threw it down the drain. With your best friend nonetheless. You just packed your things as he tried to claim his innocence, even though you caught him in bed with her. You were lucky to find an apartment that day that someone was trying to get rid of. At least you had somewhere to stay, even if the entire situation wasn’t ideal.

You still decided to go through with the tattoo, wanting to use this as an opportunity for new beginnings.

You were brought out of your daydream by the pinging of your phone, google maps telling you that you’ve reached your destination. You looked around, wide-eyed, not really knowing what to expect. But here you were, standing outside a small shop adorned with a sign stating “Mallen Tattoos”. This was the place you were looking for.

Pushing open the door, you were instantly met with the smell of cigarette smoke and disinfectant. At least they use disinfectant, you thought to yourself, trying not to show any emotion.

You walked promptly up to the front counter and coughed to get the man's attention. He looked up at you from where he was sitting and gave you a warm smile, accompanied by “You alright Darling?”

You were insanely put at ease by his kind demeanour and you smiled back at him, “Hi, I have an appointment for a tattoo at 8, booked it a few weeks ago?” He started flipping through a book that was on the desk and stopped, raising a brow, “says here that there’s gonna be two of you?”

You sighed, having forgotten that obviously, your best friend was in on the booking too. You told that man that it was just you and handed over some ID, hoping he’d still allow you to be tattooed even though it was only one client. You handed over the money for the tattoo in hopes that that may persuade him further. But once again he smiled and got up from his seat, bringing you through a small hallway to a spacious room with four big leather chairs for tattooing. He gestured to one of them and you sat down.

He brought over a clipboard full of waivers for you to sign and then spoke once again. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Miss, but the artist you wanted, well, he’s sick today. Real bad infection! But anyways, we have a different guy here who gets tattooed all the time, very talented too, if you’ll take him instead?” You could tell he was nervous as to how you’d react. You’d spoken to the other artist on the phone and he’d done practice drawings of the tattoo and sent them to you so you were pretty nervous to let a new artist just take over but before you could weigh up the pros and cons you just nodded. New beginnings, right?

He let out a sigh of relief that he had been holding in and apologised for all this which made you laugh. But you stopped laughing as soon as you saw your new tattoo artist.

A tall figure entered the room, walking over to the man who had led you here. They seemed friendly with each other as they talked. Your nervousness was now back in full force as you surveyed the man who was about to ink your body. He was bald and you could see the tattoos going up his arms. He had an extensive collection which you assumed went much further than just his arms but your view was covered by the plain white T-Shirt he was wearing. He was quite scary, never creating a smile the entire time the other man was talking to him. Your tattoo artist was handed a few pages and he nodded after looking through them, finally making his way over to you who was sweating in the leather chair.

“This is Happy! He’ll take great care of you don’t worry! If you need anything you know where I am” the overly jolly man as he waved goodbye to you both and returned down the hall. Happy. The man in front of you was anything but Happy, with his scary look and overly built body. You knew he was a part of the Sons Of Anarchy biker gang.

You finally made eye contact with Happy and your nervousness increased once again. He was a good-looking man and you knew this tattoo could take some time. Being trapped in close contact with a man like this would terrify anyone. Also, he has some menacing eyes that you felt nearly bore holes into you when he looked.

“Do you know where you want it?” He questioned suddenly, you hearing his voice for the first time. Your mind instantly went to the wrong idea of what you want where and you choked out an exclamation of “what?!”

“The tattoo, where do you want it?” He stated not changing his expression. You mentally hit yourself in the face for going to the dirty side of things and once again was only barely able to speak when you said “ribs.”

He nodded and set up with the pre-made stencil as you lifted your shirt over one shoulder, half your body on display now. He focused on the task at hand and lay the stencil whilst you tried to look anywhere else but at him, knowing that he’d make your knees go weak and you’d say something stupid again.

Once you agreed to the positioning, he began the process of the needlework. This was the first time you’d been tattooed and you didn’t know what to expect in regards to pain. The second he hit the skin, you jumped. He looked up at you and raised an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly so he continued on again. There was no small talk which you were thankful for. You were trying not to make a big deal of it but you could feel every touch, especially when he brushed off your boob whilst doing the linework.

He began filling the shape and shading and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ and a breath. The man finally broke the silence as he stopped tattooing for a quick minute and rustled around in the pocket of his leather kutte. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and held it one out to you. Talk about a hygienic practice, but you couldn’t judge right now, anything to take your mind off the pain.

“It helps, especially first time,” he concluded, lighting the cigarette and bringing it up to your lips. You took a drag and felt more relaxed now so he continued on again, placing the cigarette in between his own lips. But this time he kept talking, probably to distract you.

“Why the tattoo?” He asked, without looking at you of course, as he was busy staring at the skin beside your breast. You decided to give in to the small talk, mainly because you wanted to see what you could find out about the man who held a needle to your ribs and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I booked it with a friend but I found out she was sleeping with my boyfriend so I’m not really sure why I still came if I’m being honest,” you told him, not being wary that you were spilling the truth to a stranger.

“Sounds like a dick” he stated point-blank, making you laugh quietly. “Yeah, she was.”

“Meant the boyfriend. He was obviously stupid,” he mumbles, one eye flicking up to you as he pulled away again. He took the cigarette from his mouth and reached up to you again to let you have a puff. You weren’t sure if it was the air or the cigarette smoke clouding your judgment but the entire scene felt slightly erotic to you now. Hot man, feathery touched on your body and sharing a cigarette between both of your mouths.

Happy seemed to have unwavering confidence as he watched you take a long drag as he spoke again, “You need a real man.” Now it was your turn to mumble, “beats me when I’ll find one of those.” It only took him another five or so minutes to finish on the tattoo and he then wrapped the area for you in silence.

He wrote a few things on a piece of printed paper and handed it to you, telling you it was just the care instructions and told you how to wash the area. You thanked him and he nodded again, signaling that you can go. You left the room and walked out the door of the shop, waving to the friendly man at the front desk.

The air was now brisk as you turned on your heel, ready to walk home. You were about to stuff the paper into your pocket as you noticed what he wrote at the bottom.

‘If you’re still looking for that real man, call me’

It was accompanied by his phone number and a small smiley face, which in turn made you smile. Looks like you’ll be seeing him again soon and not just for another tattoo. As you said, new beginnings, right?

#happy #happy lowman #happy imagine #reader x happy #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman imagine #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #sons #imagine

219 notes · View notes

ana-benn · 3 years

Text

This was requested 😘

Three's Company

Warnings: mfm poly relationship, it's filthy.... I don't know. Also I wrote it as snippets along the relationship timeline so that's a thing.

---------------------------------------------------------

There had always been drawbacks to 'dating' Tyler. You'd followed him from Toronto to Boston looking for a change of scenery, and eventually the two of you started hooking up. It was a completely casual, and you'd take little breaks here and there to see other people. Initially though it just made sense. You cooked together, hung out together, and occasionally slept together. You felt like amplified best friends, and it worked for where you were in life.

Of course his trade to the Stars was a little unexpected, but it brought you two a little bit closer. Another move, and the decision to get a dog settled you both down and made you start thinking about maybe making a serious go of your relationship. Then he'd brought Jamie over, and you were done. He was like the opposite of Tyler and you loved it. Shy, and sweet but the ability to be ferocious bordering on animalistic.

Tyler was more goofy and fun, with a passion that left you feeling weak, but overall he was way more high energy than Jamie. You'd gotten close to Jamie as he and Tyler built a relationship, and you didn't know how to broach the subject with either man. You wanted them both, and it was so obvious to you that if you could make it happen for the three of you that was ideal situation.

Of course being as, while you and Jamie both had a shy side, Tyler did not and he full on approached the subject over dinner one night. You'd nearly swallowed your chicken whole, and Jamie choked on his beer at Tyler's proclamation that the two of them should share you.

"Tyler," you hissed.

"What? Come on babe, we both know you'd be into it," he grinned. "I've seen you check Chubbs out."

You couldn't deny it, so you acted maturely and stuck your tongue out at him, while Jamie stared in between the two of you.

"I'd be willing to try it," Jamie offered after a moment. Tyler lit up like Christmas then.

"Yes! I knew this would work out," he beamed wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

That first night was awkward and it took a while to feel completely comfortable. It seemed no matter what you did someone was being left out, and you weren't used to splitting your focus in bed. It seemed as though when Tyler would thrust Jamie would pull, or vice versa, and you quickly felt overwhelmed by the amount of hands on your body. Finally though as you laid in-between the two men you realize just how perfect it all felt.

-------------------------------

After that first time it seemed like none of you could stay away. Jamie had tried to back off, not wanting to overstep, but you'd shown up at his door with Tyler in tow and the three of you had set up ground rules. You'd be free to sleep with either or both of them, whenever or however no hold barred. You threw out that they could sleep with one another if they wanted to, and then laughed as they both looked at you completely unamused. Of course as time went on you almost became convinced that the were, even if neither mentioned it to you. You had set up a limitation that if they wanted to sleep with other women you did prefer that they used protection. Both of them thought about and decided that they didn't want to do that. You knew it wasn't exactly fair, but you weren't going to argue either.

You'd gone back and forth on living arrangements for months after that. Transferring between Tyler's and Jamie's, before deciding that you should probably get a place all together. You'd make sure each of the boys had their own space, but you couldn't keep track of where any of your stuff was and it was driving you crazy.

As you moved in though you realized your one mistake, it seemed these two were completing constantly.

Who loaded more boxes? Tyler claimed it, but you'd noted Jamie taking a couple more than him. Not that you would tell anyone. You just laughed and shook your head.

Who brought in more boxes? Definitely Jamie, Tyler was outside showing the dogs their new yard.

Who put more boxes away? That was you, but then again you didn't really want them touching your clothes or trying to put dishes away.

Who set up more electronics? Tyler, hands down. Jamie had a hard time managing his own spotify account, and Tyler would be pissed if he missed any golf.

All day it went like that. You couldn't help but laugh at their pitiful faces when they lost one of their challenges either. You'd just pull them into a hug, and stroke their hair while high fiving the winner.

You'd thought through all the different options for bedrooms, and eventually decided that your room would be the common room. If the three of you decided to spend the night together, which you often did, you'd do that in your room. Jamie and Tyler each had their own rooms, so that they could decompress or be separated if the need arose.

That first night though, you felt completely relaxed. Both men had followed you up to bed and before you'd even finished your nighttime routine Tyler was behind you, lips on your neck. He walked to towards the bed with his hands guiding your hips. Once you were in-between Jamie' thighs he pulled you into himself, and pulled your chin up. He trapped your lips in a searing kiss, before his hands began to wander.

Tyler moved to cup your breasts, while Jamie palmed your ass, and they seemed to work in sync at trying to turn you into jello. They'd rotate between your lips and neck, and as soon as one broke for air the other was pulling your face back towards them. Teasing hands, gentle lips, co-mingled with the scratch of facial hair on your skin, and you'd never been so happy that most of the time all three of you slept in the nude. Jamie eventually moved back onto the bed pulling you with him, and resting you over his hardness. Instinctively you ground down on him, causing him to groan out.

Tyler walked around the bed, and Jamie flipped you over and started preparing to enter you from behind. Meanwhile Tyler nudged your lips with his cock, instinctively you opened up letting him enter your mouth. He and Jamie both groaned over you as they slid home, and you felt deliciously full. At this point the three of you knew your dance well, so as Jamie started moving so did Tyler. Jamie usually took the lead, so he would thrust and Tyler would follow, keeping you in a perfect rhythm. The ebb and flow of them worked your body into a state of utter bliss, and before you knew it you were spasming around Jamie. You vaguely heard him swear as you fell under the waves of your own orgasm.

"FUCK," Jamie yelled as he sent ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Before you could react, or even fully recover you felt Tyler (who'd pulled out of your mouth when you'd orgasmed) pull you onto his own cock. If Jamie was rough, and feral with his thrusts Tyler was meticulous and operated with precision. Jamie wanted to throw you into an orgasm, thriving off of the intensity. Tyler want to draw them out of you, wanting to be in control.

Tyler worked your clit as his slowly thrust towards his own completion, you felt yourself quivering within minutes. Jamie leaned forward catching your lips in his, as Tyler worked your neck again. Finally you cried out as you clenched around Tyler. Satisfied he allowed himself to release deep inside of you, he held your hips as you slumped forward into Jamie.

You were aware of Tyler whispering praise to you as Jamie grabbed a towel to clean you up. Tyler got the covers pulled back and after you were cleaned up Jamie slid in on the other side of you. Your head on Tyler's shoulder, as Jamie wrapped his tattooed arm around you. You fell asleep completely warm and comfortable.

-------------------------

The downside to your relationship was easily that you could only publicly lay claim to one of the guys at a time, and it had just been easier to stay Tyler's girlfriend. As you stood outside the locker room waiting for the guys to come out you noticed the crowd of girls gathered around by the barricade in their Benn jerseys and it made you see red. You tried really hard to hide your jealousy, but it wasn't always do-able. Tyler came out first wrapping you in his arms, excited after a win.

"Ugh, I wish they all went like that!" He exclaimed, spinning you around. It took him a moment to realize your excitement was a little faked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's stupid," you mumbled. Jamie probably would've left it alone, but Tyler liked to pick. He thought exposing where your weaknesses were made you stronger as a unit.

"Nope, gotta talk about it," he sing songed as you waited for Jamie.

"Ugh, fine," you huffed. "It's just hard knowing we're going to walk by those girls over there and there's nothing I can do. At least people know we're together. Jamie's like this free man, you know? I feel like I have no public claim and it sucks."

Tyler looked like he wanted to laugh, which caused you to roll your eyes, "It's not funny Ty."

"What's not funny?" Jamie asked as he walked out of the locker room. You couldn't help but appraise how good he looked too. You wanted to kiss him... But you knew that wouldn't happen until you were in the car. Meaning first you had to brave the throngs.

"Someone's jealous," Tyler answered, as you blushed.

"Oh, really?" Jamie laughed.

"You guys both suck," you said as you stomped away.

They laughed as the followed you, as Tyler shouted, "You're hot when you're mad,"Causing the girls you were passing to go crazy.

You turned around and flipped them both off, before resuming your march back to the car. Surprisingly Jamie showed up before Tyler, and you quirked an eyebrow.

"He's signing jerseys," Jamie explained.

"You know it's just as strange for me too," Jamie said after a long moment. You turned and looked at him, confused. "I have to give vague answers about who I'm seeing, or make sure if I post a picture of us together Tyler is there.... It's not any easier just because some girls think I'm single. I don't feel single. I'm so crazy in love with you it blows me away, I don't want to hide or pretend that this isn't real. It is, and I need to know that you know that."

You launched yourself at him then, fusing your lips to his as you leaned over the console, "I love you too, Jamie," you said. "I don't question your love. I just wish I could express it more publicly."

You settled back into your seat, and you noticed Tyler walking towards the car. He pouted as he got in the backseat.

"Just get my number tattooed on you," Jamie joked, winking at you as Tyler got settled.

"Well you are my favorite," you played along.

"Excuse me," Tyler interjected. "If you're getting anyone's number it should be mine! I like tattoos more," he proclaimed. "Besides I thought you were mad at Jamie, now you're ganging up on me!"

"What can we say Tyler, we're just emotionally healthy," Jamie joked. "You're the one who decided to hand out and flirt."

You laughed as Tyler grumbled in the backseat.

----------------------

Fifteen days. The words felt like an echo in your mind, resonating with self pity. Jamie and Tyler would be gone for fifteen miserable days, and someone had to stay home with the dogs. Gerry laid his head in your lap as you sat on the couch, and both boys were packing.

"I'm mad at you," you whispered to him. He looked at you, before deciding to kiss your cheek. "Yeah yeah, you're forgiven," you sighed getting up off the couch.

"Jamie!" You called out, walking up stairs.

"What?" He yelled from his closet, you went in search of him.

"What are you doing?" You whined.

"I'm packing baby," he said gently. Kind of confused.

"You're supposed to be the responsible one, why'd you wait until the last minute?" You groaned flopping on his bed. It had been almost a year in this house and you could count on one hand the number of times he'd slept in here. Tyler got banished more to his room than Jamie ever did.

"Because you insisted that it was more important that we play Mario last night," he reminded you.

Tyler came wandering down the hall just then, "Hey Jamie, do you have any..." He laughed when he saw you. "Someone's feeling whiny huh?"

"You have no idea," you pouted. "If I kneecap you can you stay home?" You asked sitting up.

"They'd sideline me, I'd still have to go," he reminded you.

"Jamie," you pouted. "You're the captain, can't you do anything?"

"Sure," he lied, wanting to antagonize you. "But I won't." He grinned.

"You're both awful," you grumped. "I'm going to spend so much money while you're gone."

That one got Jamie to laugh, "And that's different... how?"

You sighed dramatically, as you headed for the door, "I don't like either of you anymore."

You heard their laughter as you went in search of something to keep you distracted. You wound up just cleaning the kitchen, and when you did you found a business card for the tattoo artist that the guys used. You'd never gotten one, but you did want one. It gave you an idea, and you tucked the card into your back pocket as you heard the guys coming downstairs.

Tyler kissed you first, a playful nip on your lips followed by a slow dance with his tongue. Jamie was more forceful, crushing your body into his as he cupped your face. They really were two halves that made you feel whole, and you felt so overwhelmed by how much you simply just felt for them.

-------

When the guys got home, they were surprised you weren't at the door waiting like normal. Instead you were out in the pool with the dogs. You smiled brightly as they came out to greet you.

"The fearsome warriors return," you giggled.

"Ah, mi'lady twas a long journey. We have returned more victorious than not," Tyler played along, while Jamie shook his head chuckling.

"Well, I got you a present," you smiled, getting out and walking towards them.

"And here we just brought laundry," Jamie grinned catching you by the waist and kissing you deeply.

You moaned at the taste of his lips, trying to deepen it, before you heard Tyler clear his throat, "What about me." You laughed at his playful pout. Extracting yourself from Jamie and kissing Tyler. There was more playfulness there. Little nips and he drew your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing you.

"Now what about our present," Tyler wiggled his eyebrows.

"Not that you perv," you playfully slapped at him. Then appraising the two of them you added, "Well not yet anyway."

You undid the leather cuff on your left wrist and proudly showed off your new tattoo, "Look!"

You had a small heart inked on your skin with the numbers 914 in the center. You grinned broadly as they took it in, Tyler as usual reacted first. Kissing you deeply, while Jamie grabbed your wrist and kissed the mark on your flesh.

"Absolutely perfect," he grinned.

Tyler nodded his agreement, "Yep, I agree."

#jamie benn #oh captain my captain #dallas stars #hockey #nhl #dallas hockey #dallas sports #stars dallas #tyler seguin #jamie benn x reader x tyler Seguin #im not okay #sorry im shit at ending fics #jamie benn fanfic #tyler seguin fanfic #bennguin

82 notes · View notes

sgtjbbhasmyheart · 3 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Three

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Nosy (and well-meaning) friends acting like nosy siblings, angst, bad language words

A/N: After I originally posted this chapter on AO3, I got some comments that exacerbated the beginnings of a year long depression. Please be kind. I intended this chapter to come across as the gang being like siblings...always being in each other’s business. Is there a breach of privacy? Yes, but without the ill-intent.

DO NOT copy or replicate without permission

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

(Y/N) Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body, depicting what you did the day before?

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

Bucky The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though.

Bucky Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

(Y/N) I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast.

(Y/N) Mmmm, french toast.

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.

It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the real James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just happy, for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

(Y/N) Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour, or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

Bucky Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.

Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s not Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and, without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By looking at Sam’s broad smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder in the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend.

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned, crowding the red head. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a considerable turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life.

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

Tag List:

@hommoturttle @courtneychicken @vidzbyemz @vicmc624 @shawnie--jo @redbarn1995 @learisa @austynparksandpizza @ddowii @comeasyoudar @notsoinnocentrebel @i-have-no-life-charlie @champagneacademiaproblems

Send an ask to be added to the tag list!

#drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health #dtibfyh #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

152 notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

no tattoos

wordcount: 1.7k

warnings: drunk sophie, hints of nsfw talk, etc

______

Rafe picked up Sophie’s facetime call to be greeted by his excited girlfriend and her talking conversationally in Spanish, albeit a little stilted as her drunk brain tried translating back and forth.

“Sophie -”

“Estoy bebiendo, hemos encontrado este vino por la sangria -”

He laughed, shaking his head. “English, baby, please. Por favor.”

“Oh! Fuck, sorry. I’m not sober.” She immediately switched back, bringing a nearly empty cup to her lips as she took him back into her room to momentarily escape the loud party.

“I can tell. What’s up, just saying hi?”

“Yeah!” She shut the door behind her and lifted up her shirt a little. ”Baby! Baby, look.” She angled the camera toward her leg, keeping it on selfie mode and hopped on one foot trying to show it correctly.

Rafe held back a smile. “Flip the camera, Soph.”

“No, no, I got it, look.” The camera finally focused in on the purple pen outlining the eventual tattoo, the initials R.C. done in her terrible drunken scrawl. (Her handwriting was pretty poor normally, but her drunk handwriting was much worse.) It was right above her hipbone and at least five inches tall, not at all what she would typically go for with a first tattoo.

He choked back a laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh my fucking god.”

She grinned and turned the camera back to her face. “What do you think?”

“That’s not - Sophie, you didn’t -” he fumbled with his words, feeling a weird mix of horror and also being turned on that she’d even consider tattooing his initials onto her forever, even if she was drunk.

“No, no, I’m next.” She nearly tripped as she walked back into the kitchen, showing a group of her friends crowded around a table, one of them giving stick and poke tattoos with a practiced ease. The phone was set down and abandoned for a few minutes, but he could hear Sophie accepting another shot with a giggle, her words taking on a pronounced slur.

Rafe waited patiently, straining a little to listen to the conversation.

“Were you talking to your boyfriend?”

“Wait, the one that gave you the ring?”

Sophie laughed and he could picture her grin. “Yeah, I was talking to Rafe. I’m gonna get his initials.” She pulled up her shirt a little to show off the sloppy outline and the girls squealed, both equally as drunk as her. “Oh my god, you can’t.”

“Why not!” Sophie exclaimed.

“What if you break up?”

“Oh, we won’t.” She replied, self-assured. He grinned at that.

“So do you think you’ll marry him?”

There was a brief silence and more giggles and Rafe desperately wished he could see her face. Unbeknownst to him, she nodded with a grin then picked the phone back up, her face tinged pink.

“Hi! I forgot we were talking!” She took the phone back to her room to talk to him again. Sophie had a tendency of being spacey when she was drunk, often wandering off or just ending a conversation mid-sentence when she couldn’t remember the rest.

Rafe shook his head, trying his best not to laugh. “Sophie. Angel. Listen to me, very carefully, okay?”

She furrowed her brow. “Yes?”

“You cannot get that tattoo.”

She pouted, running her thumb over the ink and smearing it a little. “Why not?”

“Because, Soph. You’re hammered -”

“Am not! I can do a handstand, look, watch -”

“No no no, Soph, just listen to me, please -” he laughed, snapping to try and get her focus as she went to set the phone down and show off (he was a little concerned, especially because he wasn’t sure she could do a handstand sober). “Sophie Flint! Hey. Hey. Pay attention and listen. No tattoos.”

“You don’t like it.” She frowned, lip wobbling, and Rafe could feel the tears coming on. He paused, part endeared and part exasperated. “It’s - it’s not that, I just -”

“No, you hate it and you’re going to break up with me because you think I’m a bad artist and I could never open my own tattoo shop.” She sighed dramatically, a few stray tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Jesus, what did you drink?” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not breaking up with you, baby.” He couldn’t help but laugh, utterly confused. “Has this been some long standing dream I’ve never heard of?”

“You’re laughing at me!” She cried out, rubbing the heels of her hands hard against her eyes. “I’m a great artist.”

“Oh my god.” Rafe muttered, grinning. “Yes, you are. Hey, how about you wait, and - um -”

He grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and held it up. “Look, I’ll draw you the tattoo, but you have to wait until you get it in the mail. So you can copy it right.” He pretended to write his initials onto the paper, knowing he had zero intention of sending it to her.

“Oh. You mean it?” She sniffled, her tears long forgotten.

“I mean it. Nothing to cry over, baby.”

She nodded, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes to get rid of her tears. “You promise to send it? So I can have you with me forever?”

He swore he melted at that statement alone. “That’s why you wanted it?”

“Yeah. And ‘cause I miss you.” She paused. “I miss your dick too, but I’m not gonna get that tattooed on me.”

He laughed loudly at that, shaking his head. “I think that’s a solid plan. No tattoos tonight, okay?”

“I’ll wait until you come out and we can both get each other’s. Oh!” Her face lit up and it was almost painful for him that she was so far away when she was in one of his favorite moods. “Yeah, Soph?”

“You could get my signature, on your letters! The S and the halo!”

He paused, thinking. “That’s not too bad.”

“No, it’d be perfect. I want it over your heart. So everyone knows you’re mine.” She declared, tracing her idea over her own heart to demonstrate.

“Okay. I’ll think about it. Go back to your party, angel, go have fun.” He urged, feeling better now that he’d talked her down from the tattoo ledge.

“No, I miss you, I wanna talk.” She flopped down onto her bed and propped her phone up, then wrapped her arms around her pillow. “Last night one of my roommates brought some guy home from the bar and it’s not fair. You should be here so I don’t have to get off on my own.”

Rafe grinned, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”

“Am not.” She protested, then grinned. “Unless you want me to be. Then I can be trouble.”

“Keep your voice down, Soph.” He admonished, knowing she had a tendency of being loud when she was drunk. “Go drink some water for me.”

“No. You know what’s bullshit?” She fished around in her nightstand drawer, looking for something.

“What?”

“Ah!” She held up a small drawstring bag. “My vibrator died last week -”

“Jesus Christ, woman -”

“- and I can’t find a replacement anywhere online. The thing won’t charge here, I think I electrocuted it. Useless.” She tossed the bag across the bed, scowling.

He was clearly strained, rubbing his temples. “Can we go back? Since when have you had a vibrator?”

“Since, like, sophomore year.”

“And I didn’t know about this, why?”

She shrugged. “You never asked and I think I can probably count on my fingers how many times we had sex in my room last semester. What was I supposed to do, reach over and whip it out when we were fucking?”

He laughed at her brash words and dropped his head in his hands, shifting in his seat. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Sophie waved her hand, ignoring his struggle. “Rafe, listen to me. That picture you posted with Colin, in the swim shorts, you’re holding the beer?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve literally never wanted to get down on my knees more.”

He about choked, eyes going wide. “You can’t just say things like that without a warning, angel.”

“I’m serious -”

“I’m sure you are.” He laughed, trying his best to ignore her tank top slipping off her shoulder and the way she licked her lips.

“And when you come visit and we travel, I want to have sex in every country. Just so we can say we did.” She declared.

“We’re only going to be in three, Soph. Including Spain.” He countered, attempting to switch the conversation for his own sake.

She yawned, stretching, and her shirt slipped a little lower. “Okay, so we’ll just have to travel more together later. Fuck, I miss you.”

“You too, baby.” He heard her name being yelled out in the background and laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Do you need to go?”

“Prob’ly. More shots, you know how it goes.” She dragged herself up out of bed and glanced down at her shirt, sighing dramatically. “I gotta change, don’t I?”

“No, you look great. Go have fun, I love you.”

“No, no, I gotta change.” She insisted, pulling off her shirt with no hesitation and Rafe sucked in a breath, watching her hunt around through her laundry basket of clean clothes waiting to be folded. “You’re teasing.”

“I’m not teasing, I have a bra.” She snapped the strap for emphasis.

“You are teasing. I can see your underwear when you bend over, your skirt is short.” He laughed when she turned a little red and tugged it down. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. They’re pink with little red hearts on them.” He grinned. “Adorable.”

“I’m not going to waste my good underwear when you’re not here.” She defended, then found the shirt she wanted. It was one of his from intramurals, with Cameron written out on the back. He held back a smirk when she tugged it on and it went to her thighs, her skirt barely peeking out under the hem. “Is this better?”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.” He smiled. “Go back to your party.” Rafe paused, adding, “Tell Mateo I said hi.”

“That’s weird, but alright.” She shrugged. “You be good, okay?”

“I don’t think you’re the one that should be telling me that.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Have fun. If you go out, text me when you’re home again.”

“Deal.” She blew him a kiss before waving and hanging up.

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #rafe x sophie #mine #college rafe #frat rafe

109 notes · View notes

eryiss · 3 years

Text

Summary: Freed and Laxus have always flirted, it's just something they had done. But after Laxus returned from exile, the flirting died away as Laxus reestablished his position in the guild. But Laxus finds himself missing the flirting, and knows a way to bring it back. Unfortunately for Freed, it requires more teasing than any one man can take. [Fraxus One-Shot]

Notes: Hello again, here’s my second fanficiton written over vacation because it’s raining and there’s nothing to do. This time, it's just Freed being horny for Laxus, and Laxus making things so much worse for his own fun. So enjoy seduction, strip poker and smut. Thanks for reading.

Links: FFN, Ao3

How To Seduce Your Rune Mage:

A Guide By Laxus Dreyar

Step 1: Lay The Groundwork

Laxus had taken to a new style of clothing again. It was… distracting.

The outfit wasn't too dissimilar to what he had always worn, but Freed could see the differences. The white shirt was now form fitting enough to mould around his impressive biceps and cling to his pecs, whereas his old shirts had been loose enough to billow around him. Furthermore, he apparently had decided to only button the shirt up half way, leaving his tanned, tattooed chest exposed to whoever might want to look. Or, to whoever might be desperately trying to look anywhere else.

Compared to the new pants, though, the shirt was nothing. Laxus still wore the leather pants he insisted on, but these were tighter. Freed had walked up the stairs behind Laxus and had been eye level with the mans ass; the leather clung to his toned cheeks like skin.

Freed had been relieved when the walk upstairs had been over. The relief died when Laxus sat down.

Even the way he sat made Freed pause to both appreciate the sight of the man and curse him for seemingly being unaware of the effect he was having. He was leaning back in the chair, talking to Bickslow with his hands behind his head and his legs spread far too wide. His arms were flexing under the shirt, muscles all but ripping through the fabric. The leather of his pants pressed across his hard thighs, emphasising the beautiful strength in his legs. Freed had, more than once, let his focus slip and found his eyes roaming the man's thighs.

And then there was his dick. It was borderline obscene in how obvious it was in the pants. Dicks bulged in pants, of course, but for the split second Freed had glanced towards Laxus' crotch - not on purpose, of course - it looked like the pants were made to draw focus to his cock. The large, obvious mound was the focal point of a damn sexy sight that Freed couldn't allow himself to enjoy.

They had all mocked Laxus for calling himself a god, but in moments in this, the comparison held some weight.

Freed had to look away, Laxus hadn't dressed like that for his friend to lust after him. Just because their relationship had always had a flirtatious edge - well, it used to anyway, but Freed felt that might not be appropriate anymore given the things Laxus was going through - it didn't mean that he wanted him for anything more. They amused each other with their sly winks, double entendres and the coy touches that they'd shared from time to time. Nothing more.

But dammit, the way Laxus was sitting was like a beacon. He had picked the perfect position to drive Freed mad, and he didn't seem to even know it. His whole damn body seemed to be pointing to the large bulge in his pants - the bulge Freed would not allow himself to ogle - and yet Laxus was still chatting with Bickslow as if he didn't know.

Freed was almost tempted to leave. He could deal with his… urges when he got home, and then could hope that Laxus went back to his looser, less enticing outfit. Because if this was going to become a mainstay in their lives, Freed didn't know how to deal with that.

Dammit; he was a grown man, not a horny teenager. This was ridiculous!

As he always did, Freed had brought one of his many novels into the guildhall so he had something to do to pass the time. He would simply put all his focus on that, and Laxus would be the last thing on his mind. By the time he would have read a chapter or two, all the shock and desire born from Laxus' change in outfit would have died, and the man sitting across the table from him would return to what he had always been; the slightly too cocky asshole with handsome features and a great body, but someone he couldn't allow himself to think about because acting on his desires would be detrimental to the team dynamic.

He was a captain, and Laxus was essentially his teammate. Lusting after him was asking for trouble, and Freed had gotten over his attraction to the man before. He would again, and with the help of his novel he would push these thoughts to the back of his mind.

'Arthur hauled himself up over the railing of his ship, grunting with effort. The pirate captain ran a hand through his short blonde hair, absently removing his sodden shirt as he walked across the deck. As he passed Clark, he sent the man a grin and a wink, a flirtatious act of seduction. Not that Clark needed it, seeing the tattoo on Arthur's chest was enough-'

"God dammit," Freed muttered resentfully.

Freed owned exactly five romance novels. They were self indulgent and rarely read, and yet somehow he had picked up the only book he owned out of his collection of hundreds to have a romantic lead with physical traits similar to Laxus'.

"Somethin' wrong?" Laxus asked, looking over to Freed with his eyes alight with amusement. He looked towards the book Freed was reading and grinned. "Getting to the good stuff, huh?"

"What?" Freed asked, then looked at the cover of the book. The barrel chested model made it clear it was a rather trashy romance, and Laxus' implication was clear. "No, I most certainly am not."

"Because you leave that stuff for when yer alone, huh?" Laxus teased.

Freed didn't know what it was about himself that delighted in confident men, but that part of him was almost preening with delight at Laxus. Thankfully, just as much as he liked a man with a cocky side, he also liked bringing men like that down a peg, and as such he could still cling to some of his dignity.

"I was frustrated because one of the main characters has a terrible sense of direction, and got the other character lost," Freed rebutted. "It was something I can sympathise with."

"Damn, yer brutal," Laxus chuckled. "But you always go hard on me, huh Freed?"

That must had been unintentional; there was no way Laxus had meant to say such a teasing thing. It was just as unintentional as the way Laxus shifted his position to look towards Freed, somehow spreading his legs wider and drawing the leather tighter across his legs. Damn him; was he just naturally sensual and it had taken the tightness of his clothing for Freed to realise it.

He couldn't help it, his eyes flickered to the impressive bulge in his pants. For a moment, Freed considered acting. Would he rather get to his knees and suck the man off, or flip him over and fuck him where he stood?

The thoughts went as soon as they came, and Freed found himself standing.

"I'll get us around," He said to explain why he suddenly lurched upwards. "Anything in particular you all want?"

Bickslow and Evergreen asked for their usual, whereas Laxus requested Freed "surprise me, but make sure it's hot." The inflection he put on the last word sent a chill down his spine, and Freed quickly retreated to the lower floor of the guildhall, trying to distract himself however he could.

As he did, he missed the smug, satisfied expression on his friends face. Laxus had Freed right where he wanted him, and part one of the plan was complete.

——

Step 2 - Set The Bait

So, Laxus was modelling now. Of course he was,

The newest edition of Sorcerer Weekly was sitting on the coffee table of Freed and Laxus' shared apartment, exactly where Laxus had placed it when he'd left the apartment. He had done so as if it weren't a big deal, claiming that he had spoken about the Raijinshuu during an interview and that Freed should check it out if he was interested. That would have been fine, if it weren't for the picture on the cover, and the promise of many other pictures inside.

On the cover, Laxus was wearing a dress shirt and blazer, with the buttons undone so his chest and flexing abs were teased. His pants were unbuckled, teasing the top of his boxers in a way that was like a punch to Freed's gut. Not to mention the damn smoulder Laxus had perfected.

Dammit, Laxus had been against modelling for his entire life, and now he was doing a four page spread! Where had the change come from? Freed might almost think Laxus was doing it on purpose - intentionally driving him mad as a ridiculous prank of some kind - but that was a stupid idea.

And Freed knew how this worked. He knew the pictures inside would show off more of him. They always did, and Freed knew they'd look so good. So damn good.

"No," He mumbled to himself. "Get ahold of yourself."

Laxus was his friend, he certainly didn't want nor need Freed ogling pictures of him in various states of undress; fantasying about pinning him down and taking him, or pushing him to a wall and making out hard and passionately. They were friends and partners, this ridiculous attraction was something Freed would just have to get over.

But… well, Laxus had said he wanted Freed to read the article. The article would be on the same page as the pictures, so he clearly didn't mind Freed seeing the pictures. And Freed was fairly sure Laxus had some kind of attraction towards him in return; on a mission a year ago, Laxus had been speaking in his sleep and moaned out Freed's name pretty damn loudly. That was a memory that plagued Freed when he was touching himself, whether he wanted it or not.

So, maybe it wasn't too bad. It wasn't too invasive.

He picked the damn magazine up with a rush of oddly exhilarating dread. Page five was the first of Laxus' article, and Freed flipped towards it. He would just save his curiosity and be done with it.

Oh. Oh goodness.

A large picture of Laxus was printed. Laxus was shirtless, covered in some kind of oil that made his tanned skin glow beautifully in the light. He was flexing, abs so shredded and his arms pulsing with veiny muscles. His lightning was flickering over his torso, making him look everything like the all-powerful wizard that he was. Freed swallowed, and his cock lurched in his boxers.

His eyes fell onto page six, where another picture was printed. Laxus was wearing workout shorts and nothing else, the spandex clinging to his thighs in a too tempting way. He was mid sit-up, stomach crunching and hair sweat drenched.

Freed was palming himself over his pants without realising.

He had already gotten this far. He turned the page to see the next picture, and audibly swallowed.

The picture on the left was of Laxus wearing nothing but light grey boxer-briefs. He had his right hand resting behind his head, biceps flexing and bulging hard. His pecs and abs were rigid and pronounced, nipples hard looking. Water had clearly been poured over him, and droplets seemed to be sliding down the endless expanses of muscles that made up the man. His boxer briefs were overly tight, hugging his bulge to perfection and making Freed palm himself harder. His cock was hard now, and precum leaked out of his slit when he saw that Laxus was pulling down his waistband to show the base of his cock and trimmed pubes.

When he looked to the final picture of the, Freed actually moaned. Laxus was naked, his dick only covered by the white bedsheets that rested over his crotch. He lounged on the bed, looking sleep worn and sexy.

Fuck, Freed had wanted to see that in person.

He suddenly remembered where he was and what he was doing. He was in his sitting room, on the sofa he shared with Laxus, looking at the smutty pictures that Laxus had taken, while palming his dick. Freed was not a sex hungry idiot and he had gotten over his attraction to Laxus before, and he would again. He just needed to get it out of his system, that was all.

Within a minute, he was in the shower, stroking himself off as he imagined Laxus on his knees before him.

Again, he missed when Laxus returned home. He missed when Laxus saw the magazine, open on the page with his nude picture. He missed when Laxus sniffed the air and smelt the scent of cum, and grinned to himself. Before Freed left the shower, Laxus retreated to his bedroom, cock hardening in his pants as he did. He wanted to join Freed in the shower and cut the bullshit, but his plan hadn't gotten there yet. And, he had to admit, Freed eye-fucking him all the day was hot as fuck, and he wanted more of that before he made his move.

——

Step 3: Reel Him In

"And with this, Laxus," Freed placed his cards on the ground. "I get your pants."

Freed and Laxus were alone, sitting next to a campfire beside a lake. It was just the two of them on the mission, which had been completed earlier in the day. Rather than returning home, Laxus had suggested that they camp out for the night and return to Magnolia in the morning. Freed had agreed, and somehow had been talked into a game of poker. Strip poker, to be more specific.

They were in various states of undress. Freed was wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, and probably should have given in by now. One more loss and he'd be spending the night naked, not an overly attractive idea with Laxus sharing a tent with him.

For the start of the round, Laxus has been brutally successful, and Freed had lost his shirt, shoes, coat and socks before he had gotten a single piece of Laxus' clothing off. Freed had wanted to claim Laxus was cheating somehow, but the alcohol he'd drunk had made the argument too much bother. Every time they lost a round, they had to take a drink, and Freed had lost a lot of rounds so was practically drunk at this point.

That wasn't too bad, it certainly made looking at Laxus half naked more pleasant and less stressful.

The drinking wasn't the only forfeit they'd implemented either. If either of them lost twice in a row, they had to do a forfeit chosen by the winner. That had happened to Freed twice, and he'd had to give the story of his most embarrassing moment - a puppeteer wizard had taken control of him and made him act like a clown for a full day, in full costume including the wig and squeaking nose - much to Laxus' amusement. The second forfeit was to do as many chin-ups as he could on a nearby tree. He managed thirty before the bark started cutting into his hands, and Laxus hadn't taken his eyes off him.

Laxus had only been forced to perform one forfeit: speaking in rhyming couplets for a round and slapping himself every time he failed. His cheek was red, but Freed still wanted revenge.

"You don't have to enjoy it this much," Laxus laughed, taking a drink as he stood. He shucked off the too-tight leather pants and threw them to the pile of clothes. He spread his arms to show his state of undress off, and Freed swallowed at the sight of Laxus in his white boxer-briefs.

Fuck, why was everything he wore so tight these days?

"So," Laxus grunted. "What you gonna make me do?"

"Your cheeks are very red," Freed commented with a drunken grin. "Perhaps the fire is getting you too hot. So, you're going to submerge yourself fully in the nice cold lake."

"Fuck, you're cruel," Laxus sighed, patting Freed's bare shoulder as he walked past him. "Glad I'm on your team most of the time."

Freed only realised his mistake when it was too late. When he had chosen the forfeit, he had simply wanted to make Laxus feel the horrors of a cold lake in the middle of the night. It was only when Laxus was wasit high in the water that Freed realised he had instructed Laxus to get soaking wet in front of him while he was wearing his boxers and nothing more. His white boxers - made of the fabric that turns slightly transparent when wet.

Fuck, what the hell had he been thinking? Were his critical thinking skills so redundant around Laxus?

"I'm gonna get you back for this, asshole," Laxus yelled, and Freed turned to watch as Laxus dove into the cold water head first, only to resurface a moments later with an exclamation of: "Fuck that's cold."

Freed couldn't look away. Laxus, the man who had been plaguing Freed's most carnal and deprived dreams and thoughts, was wading through the lake, soaking wet and wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. He looked like a fucking supermodel, and Freed felt the horrible feeling of a boner growing in his revealing boxer-briefs. Worse still, he couldn't stop it, because thoughts of kissing the man dry or dragging him to the tent and having his way with him wouldn't stop assaulting him.

And Laxus, the bastard, decided to make things worse. He stood right before Freed, his bulging dick eye level with Freed (not that Freed allowed himself to look), with his arms crossed. He was so close that a drop of water from his chest fell onto Freed's nose and made him wince.

"Well, you might be okay losing your boxers tonight, but I ain't," Laxus shrugged, "and it's getting late, so I'm gonna call it a night. See you in the tent, you evil bastard."

He emphasised the point by flicking the cold water into Freed's face, and then walked to the shared tent. Freed was left alone by the fire, genuinely considering jumping into the water to shock the boner out of his system.

And Laxus just grinned, knowing exactly the effect he was having on Freed and loving it.

——

Step 4 - Adapt

"Oh thank fuck," Laxus gasped the second Freed walked into their apartment. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that."

Freed frowned, dropping his bag at the door. Laxus seemed to have been waiting for him, which was a shock. Almost as much of a shock as when Laxus stormed over towards him and wrapped his arms around Freed in a tight hug. Freed was frozen for a moment, but lifted his arms and returned the hug. Someone had apparently told Laxus what happened then.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Laxus growled. "Don't you ever pull bullshit like that again, you understand me?"

"I won't," Freed promised.

"You better not," Laxus pulled away, but cupped Freed's cheeks to check his face for injuries. When he saw none, he deflated. "Idiot."

Freed had been on a mission with Bicks and Ever, and it hadn't gone well. The creature they were fighting was stronger than they had expected, and to divert attention from some bystanders, Freed had put himself in the path of the beast. He'd been bitten, and the creature's teeth had injected poison deep inside of him. For around a week he'd been in bed, unresponsive as the medical mages removed the poison from his bloodstream. According to Bickslow and Evergreen, it had been one of the worst weeks of their lives, and apparently Laxus had been kept in contact about it.

"I'm fine," Freed assured him. "I've got a scar, that's all."

"They wouldn't let me come see you," Laxus stated. "I would've gone if I could have, but they wouldn't let me. I wanted to be there."

"I know," Freed nodded, smiling a little as he pulled away. He frowned when he saw what Laxus was wearing. "Why are you wearing a robe?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, that," Laxus blushed a little. "So, fuck Freed you could have died. And I know you're okay because you don't lie about shit like this, but it kinda puts things into perspective. Just because you made it out this time, doesn't mean it'll happen again, you know?" Freed nodded, wondering what this had to do with a robe. "And it got me thinking that, if something happens to ya, I ain't gonna want any regrets, I don't wanna look back and wish I did something that I was too scared to. That make sense?"

"Yes," Freed nodded.

"Well, I don't wanna regret you, so I'm done with the bullshit," Laxus stated. "The flirting without following through on it, and trying to turn you on to see if you'll start something? It's just all bullshit when either of us could fucking die at any point-"

"Laxus," Freed said firmly. Laxus was spiraling, and Freed needed to get him back to something more safe. "The robe?"

"Right, yeah," He calmed himself. "The robe is me saying that, if you want me," He undid the tie on the robe. "Then you've got me."

The robe fell from Laxus' body, revealing him in his nudity.

Fuck. Fuck!

Freed had put in a lot of effort keeping boundaries with Laxus. Yes they flirted, but they both seemed to consciously avoid seeing each other naked. Nudity was the last bastion of them being platonic with one another, because when it happened it would be the crescendo of their flirting. It was an unspoken rule; if they saw each other fully naked, then they'd finally do something about it.

But there Laxus was, naked and proud. His dick had the same veiny girth the rest of his body had; long, thick, and half hard.

And, if Laxus was being truthful, his body was Freed's for the taking.

Without hesitation, Freed closed the space between them and wrapped a hand into Laxis' hair. He wrapped the short blonde locks into his hand and tugged Laxus down towards him, pulling him into a heated and needy kiss. Laxus' hands were on his ass without thinking, groping Freed hungrily as he rolled his naked hips against Freed's. Freed let out a shuddering moan, allowing Laxus' tongue into his mouth.

Years worth of flirting and causal grins and caught moments of attraction had been leading up to this. No more dancing around it; they wanted each other and they were going to take it.

Freed's hands roamed over the body he had wanted to explore for so long. The muscle was as hard as it had always looked, and the quiet gasp from Laxus when he grazed his nipple made Freed grin.

"So responsive," Freed taunted.

"Shut up," Laxus growled huskily, taking hold of Freed's belt buckle to undo it. "I wanna look after you, baby. Not listen to ya smart-mouthing me."

"I don't need coddling," Freed argued.

"I said I'm gonna look after ya, not coddle ya," Laxus grinned, bringing his lips to Freed's neck in teasing bites. "I know you Freed, I know exactly what you want out of a man."

"Oh do you?" Freed challenged. "And what is that?"

"Me," Laxus grinned.

Before he could say anything, Laxus' hands wrapped around Freed's thighs and scooped them up. Freed was lifted up, straddling Laxus' naked body and leaning against him to keep them both upright. A laugh spluttered out of Freed, because the man who had been the subject of his fantasies for so long was lifting him up and walking him to his bedroom.

This was happening. They were going to bed together, and Freed knew that it would be indescribable.

He was thrown into his own mattress, and Laxus crawled over him. Every fantasy, every photo shoot, every thought of Laxus paled in comparison to Laxus crawling over him, shamelessly naked. His chest was heaving and he had the thinnest layer of sweat over his chest, and Freed found himself a little breathless as Laxus placed his hands either side of his head. He looked down at Freed with an expression of mingled cockiness and fondness; a look only he could manage.

"It's awful unfair you're still dressed, baby," Laxus murmured.

"I'm rather fond of the situation," Freed smirked, and Laxus grinned down at him.

"Then you might not like this," Laxus taunted, reaching down and groping Freed's already hard cock through his pants. Freed gasped, but the hand was gone as soon as it came. Laxus smirked down at Freed when he grunted his annoyance, fiddling with the belt buckle again to unfasten it. "Hips up, Baby."

Freed did as told, and Laxus was pulling Freed's pants down his legs. Once they were off, he tossed them aside and grinned down at the hard cock tenting his boxers. Freed was breathless at the hungry, horny attention Laxus showed his hard dick.

"Touch me," Freed panted an order.

"You still ain't naked," Laxus grinned. "But I'm gonna fix that."

Laxus crawled up Freed's body again, his naked legs grazing against Freed's as he ran their strong bodies against each other. He let out a slight shuddering breath as his knee grazed Freed's hard cock, before refocusing his attention at the task at hand. He placed a hand on the side of Freed's shirt, before yanking at it hard. The buttons on the shirt flew off, scattering across Freed's bedroom floor with a clatter. With his abs and chest exposed now, Freed watched as Laxus lowered his head down and pressed kisses against his stomach.

"Oh god," Freed moaned.

"That's right," Laxus grinned. "Say my name,"

Freed let out a breathless laugh as Laxus reached his chest with the kisses. He pushed himself up further, naked chest against naked chest, and brough Freed into another spellbinding kiss. They melted into one another, moans enfusing with the kiss as Laxus' hands kneeled and grabbed at Freed's body. A wayward spark of Laxus' lighting hit one of Freed's nipples, and Freed moaned so loudly and blissfully that Laxus went half lidded.

He'd have to remember that. But not now.

As they kissed each other, Laxus removed the shirt from Freed's arms and tossed it to the side. Freed's paler body contracted beautifully with Laxus', and Freed moaned at the press of the other mans bulk against him. This was like every fantasy he'd had about the man, but better in such an explosive way.

Laxus' knee was gently teasing Freed's straining cock, the seam of his boxers the only friction against his aching member. He raised his hips on instinct, trying and failing to rub against Laxus.

"Please Laxus," Freed whispered. "Just touch me."

"Not until yer naked," Laxus whispered back, hands running over Freed's flexing abs. "So soon, baby."

One of his roaming hands slid down to his cock, giving it a single, torturous pump. Freed whined and Laxus chuckled into his ear, the feeling of the man's breath against him incredible in its intimacy. The hand hooked itself in the waistband of his boxer-briefs, quickly pulling them down and exposing Freed's cock to the room. He moaned at the change of temperature as Laxus tossed his boxers away.

For a moment, Laxus sat up, straddling Freed and looking down at him with horny adoration. He looked at Freed with the same expression of need, desire and lust that Freed looked at him. Freed's cock leaked with pre cum, and Laxus looked almost blissed out.

And then, he lowered himself, taking Freed's cock into his mouth in a single fluid movement.

"Fuck!" Freed exclaimed, hands clutching at the sheets as the warmth of Laxus' mouth covered his cock.

He was thunderstruck as he watched Laxus work. The man who Freed adored was sucking his cock, smoothly and passionately, taking him to the balls and then drawing back to the tip. He neither gagged nor slowed, as if his sole purpose in that moment was to suck Freed off.

"Shit," Freed moaned. "Laxus, stop. I'm gonna-"

Laxus only increased the speed of his movements, tongue licking and teasing at the tip of Freed's cock. Freed's grip on the bedsheets turned white-knuckled, and he thrashed his head back as white covered his eyes. The pleasure was unreal, multiplied whenever he thought of the man who was doing this to him. He groaned, bucking his hips as the rush of orgasm overtook his senses.

The feeling was damn-near life ending. Every nerve, sense and thought was set alflame as he bucked his hips, his spasming dick fucking Laxus' throat without repentance nor care. A spew of cusses, moans and exclamations filled the room as spurt after spurt of hot cum shot down Laxus' throat.

He was swallowing it all, and the constrictions of his throat against Freed's dick only further drained his balls.

"Fuck," Laxus gasped once every drop of his lover's cum had been swallowed. He was red faced and grinning, chest heaving and dick rock hard. Freed, despite the orgasm, was just as hard. "You tasted so good, baby."

"Fuck," Freed parroted weakly, shifting and pulling Laxus towards him. He pulled him into a sloppy and needy kiss, not purebred by the taste of his own spunk on the other man's tongue. He openly groped at Laxus' ramrod dick, pumping at it and delighting in the shuddering moans Laxus tried to hold back.

"Wait," Laxus panted, pulling away. "First time I cum for you, I wanna cum in you."

Freed could have reached orgasm again from just that.

"If you wish," Freed teased, and Laxus' face brightened and he pulled him into another kiss.

Without argument, Freed allowed himself to be pulled so he was straddling Laxus, his cock resting against Laxus'. They kissed slowly, Laxus scraping at his back while slowly gyrating his hips in a way that was clearly driving both men mad. Freed was absently pulling at Laxus' hair, mind swirling with the memory of Laxus' lips around his dick, swallowing him without complaint. Fuck, this was happening. He and Laxus were going to fuck.

All the fantasies of this moment fell away. Freed knew they would be pathetic when faced with the reality.

As they kissed, Laxus had reached into Freed's dresser and brought out a bottle of lube he kept there. He had covered his fingers with the lube, before slowly trailing them down Freed's stomach, leaving a cold trail in their wake. He cupped Freed's ass with large, cold hands. Freed gasped as they ran gently across the crease of his ass.

"You ready?" Laxus asked in a voice one might describe as lovestruck.

"Yes," Freed nodded, pushing his body tight against Laxus'. "Please."

One finger slowly slid inside Freed, and the moan of unfiltered, unadulterated pleasure filled the room. Laxus was grinning as he slowly probed Freed's asshole, teasing and slow in his movements but stretching him out to perfection. Another finger pushed its way in, and Freed groaned a guttural groan as he rested his face in the crook of Laxus' neck. He stretched and toyed with Freed, and all he could do was delight in the face it was Laxus doing this to him.

"That's enough," Freed stated just before Laxus slid in a third finger. Laxus looked at him with a hint of hesitance, and Freed smiled a naughty looking smile. "I want to feel you splitting me."

"Fuck," Laxus breathed, and his cock lurched at the words. "You demon."

"Absolutely," Freed agreed, shifting his weight up.

With slightly shaking hands, Laxus held the base of his cock and pointed it upwards. With too slow movements, Freed carefully moved himself down again. The tip of Laxus' fat, quivering cock rested against his hole for a moment, and they both groaned at the feeling. Freed paused, but with a shared look of trust and desire, he slowly began to lower himself down.

Inch by inch, he took Laxus' cock inside of him. They both groaned, moaning their pleasure to the otherwise silent room. Laxus scratched at Freed's bare back, while Freed clutched to his lover's shoulders. His thighs quivered with the effort of holding himself up, and a gasp split his lips when he felt his ass rest against Laxus' legs.

He had never felt so thoroughly filled before, and his eyes fell to the back of his skull.

After a few moments to accommodate the new sensation, Freed gave a tentative grind of the hips. Both men moaned loudly at the feeling, and Freed's grip on Laxus' shoulders tightened. He rested his head in the crook of Laxus' neck again, before whispered a quiet, "Fuck me, Laxus."

It happened instantly,

Thrusting, slow at first but incredible, started to split Freed open. The beautiful burn of his body being torn apart increased with each slow and taunting push and pull of Laxus' dick. He could feel all the ridges of Laxus' dick inside of him, pushing apart muscles that was all too happy to accommodate him.

And then, with a stronger thrust than before, Laxus hit the spot. Freed let out an incoherent sound of erotic delight.

"There," Freed demanded, voice wavering. "Oh fuck, there."

Laxus needed no more instruction, thrusting his hips up again and again, faster and more powerful with each strike. Consistently he beat against Freed's prostate, again and again making him moan, whine, grunt and roar with the pleasure that only years of growing desire could have caused. Freed pushed down against him, wanting to feel more. To get more!

"Oh fuck," Laxus moaned, voice a horny, needy, desperate shadow of its former reticence that drove Freed mad. "Shit, fuck."

He was cumming, and the feeling of the man he loved filling him with cum while he spasmed and grunted was all-consuming to Freed. Orgasm overtook him with the same sudden ferocity, and the overwhelming euphoria made him shut his eyes and drown in the pleasure.

As he rutted into Freed, cum still spilling, Laxus pushed them both down. Lying atop Freed now, Laxus rode the high of orgasm to its end, not caring that Freed's own cum had spattered across both of their faces and chests. Panting and slowing his thrusts, he collapsed onto Freed with a giddy, horny smile.

"Holy shit," He cussed. "Why the fuck did it take us so long to do that?"

"It's a mistake we won't repeat," Freed said, equally breathless.

He pulled Laxus into another kiss, slower this time but arguably more passionate. Their movements were tired, lethargic, and perfect. Freed shifted them both, removing Laxus' cock from his ass and lying beside him, not once breaking the kiss. He nuzzled into his lover, smiling gently.

"I'm glad you're okay," Laxus murmured when they did pull away, stroking Freed's cheek. "And I'm sorry I fucked around and didn't make a move before. All that teasing bullshit was just my way of trying to get you to do something first, because I was scared of getting rejected."

"I can understand that, and I certainly won't be angry at you," Freed chuckled. "But know, I will do exactly the same to you from now on."

"Wouldn't expect anything less," Laxus grinned. "But we're not waiting that long until we fuck again, right?"

Freed simply smirked, and kissed his lover again. "Absolutely not."

#Fraxus #freed x Laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #Writing #one shot #word count: 5.9k #canon divergence

50 notes · View notes

snuggetfish · 3 years

Note

Majidad family headcanons..? 🥺👉👈

Say no more 💖 This is LONG so I've put it under the cut!

First off, how many children would Majima want? Frankly, the man’s so happy to be given the chance at fatherhood in the first place that even just one would send him over the moon... but he wouldn’t say no to more. He’s paid enough visits to Kiryu to feel that twinge in his heart, hearing the echo of so many cheery voices around the orphanage.

So, if it at all possible, he’d love to see his dream about having his own little cuddle puddle of kids become a reality. He’ll maybe slightly underestimate how difficult it’d be to take care of them all, but he’s Majima Goro, moulded by fate to be one tenacious bastard. He’ll pull through, somehow, with the help of a loving partner willing to go the distance with him. However, if he did only have one kid, you can bet they’d be spoiled absolutely rotten. You might think that the roles of good cop/bad cop would be obvious in a crazy yakuza dad+presumably civilian spouse couple, but think again, because Majima is a complete pushover when faced with cute puppy eyes.

Extra serving of ice cream after dinner? He'll pile gigantic scoops into his bowl and then give up not even halfway through, sliding it towards his child. He can't really wink, but they get the picture. “Who in ever is gonna finish this for me?” Five minutes more at the park? Sure thing, they can have the whole hour and maybe Kiryu-chan might show up in the meantime too so they can... schedule their next fight. No throwing down in front of the kid! I think also once Majima becomes a dad, his priorities shift. Slightly, but noticeably. He still upholds his vicious reputation, but he isn't living at the edge any more, fighting through each day like it's his last, defusing bombs with little regard for safety. If surviving up until now was luck more than anything, with a child in his life, he's going to make damn sure it becomes a certainty. He's got something so very precious to stay alive for.

When they're still very young, Majima would be a great help in comforting them during the night. He typically gets back at late hours anyway and relishes the chance to spend a bit of time with his child, instead of immediately collapsing into a restless sleep like he always used to. If they're awake or crying he'll comfort them as best as he can, even with his whispered voice now hoarser than he remembers it and no knowledge of lullabies... but hey, pop songs will do too. 24h Cinderella anyone? Though if they're sound asleep, he'll stick to just holding their tiny hand for a while, feel it clasp gently around his fingers...

First things first, the gloves come off, always. "Skinship" is a Japanese word put together from English that I think is great for describing the kind of parent-child intimacy he'd want. On mornings where can afford to sleep in, it wouldn't be uncommon for his spouse to find him on the couch, dozing on and off with the baby nestled on his chest. He's afraid of falling fully asleep and missing the tenderness of the moment, plus his nightmares are not something he'd ever want his child to know... So he'll stay like that, stroking their back and peeking through a lidded eye at his partner who's busy making breakfast. Also on this topic, an idea that occurred to me recently: you know how Majima's tattoo has one of the snakes' heads on the left side of his chest? Well... call him superstitious, but he'd only hold the baby on the right side. Can't have it threatening his sweet pea. 🥺️

What about once they get older? Well probably Majima would start waking up with unexpected “extensions” made this his tattoo, in black marker. Possibly some scribbles on his eye patch as well, which he’ll still proudly wear to work. And if you know what’s good for you, you really don’t want to be the one making fun of a Mad Dog that’s sporting a little heart doodle on his face. Kisses? Yes, absolutely. As we learn from Dead Souls, Majima would not shy away from smooching his child. A “good night” kiss, a “good morning” kiss, a “have a nice day” kiss when they’re off to school. One day the kid complains that his beard’s too scratchy and Majima doesn’t even think twice before he goes back to being clean-shaven.

I think at some point they would also have to be introduced to the domain they're going to be ruling (though only as children!): the Majima Family. Nishida would be promoted to “designated driver", for a kid all too eager to ride on someone's shoulders while daddy's away in a meeting and the Kamurocho Hills construction site would be getting a new foreman. Their duties would include drawing on the blueprints and shouting words of "encouragement" at the men through dad's loudspeaker, whenever he needs a break. Bet Majima even gets them a little hard hat and everything, custom-made! Ok so it also doesn't take long for them to figure out a fun game to play with the new family members, a hazing ritual basically: show up on the day of their first office duty and annoy the hell out of them. Men were nervous to begin with, but now they're confused and pissed, like who the hell is this brat and who let them in? Kid plays the silent card: doesn't say a word about their name or their dad's, just keeps running around and getting in their business.

After chasing a lightning-fast kid all around the whole office, Majima comes in and they think they're saved. Surely the boss has 0 tolerance for little intruders.... Though, of course, the intruder immediately runs to daddy and it slowly... very slowly dawns on them. Kid’s grinning from behind a leather-clad leg and the poor newbies have gone white in the face mentally counting how many fingers they're gonna have to give up. But it’s all fun and games... mostly. Of course a Majima descendant would inherit his mischievous nature.

But hey at some point, uncle Saejima comes back. Though Majima’s maybe a little reluctant at first, eventually he can’t but see the value of his kid training with his kyodai in the dojo. For self-defense, but also to develop their athleticism. Saejima’s of course happy to spend time with his niece or nephew, though... you know how in Y4 one of dojo's mechanics is that the students can just skip your lessons if they're not feeling motivated enough? Majima’s munchkin would absolutely do that. Slide underneath the big tiger’s legs and make a run for it!

I think Majima would find it terribly endearing if the child at some point started dropping Kansai words here and there. And that’s in spite of Saejima chiding him that his own accent is fake and that the kid probably picked it up from the “real source”, a.k.a Saejima himself. Heh, dad and uncle might bicker sometimes, but they both make it clear just how much they love the little one.

Now, raising a child as a high-profile yakuza is obviously not going to be all rainbows and sunshine... I think Majima would love nothing more than to indulge in the cozy fantasy of being an ideal father, spending all his waking moments playing with his kid, putting his energy and creativity to good use, just generally making sure his son or daughter get the best childhood he's never had... but it's a fantasy for a reason, because he's grounded enough in reality to know that it's not going to work out as idyllically as that.

He's fulfilled his and Saejima's dream of climbing the yakuza ranks, although it's come at the cost of being a notorious figure, with scars both external and internal. How is he going to protect his family? How much time is he really going to be able to dedicate to his kids? How is he going to keep them from walking the same dark path he has? Not a day passes where he doesn’t ask himself all those questions... doubly so on nights where he comes home to find that they’ve wiggled in his bed as well, cozy and safe in his partner’s arms. And it hits him that they’ve already grown up so much and he fears he’s missed out on so much, on making a positive impact in their life...

Ultimately, I don’t believe Majima would want his kids to grow up involved in the yakuza. Yet at the same time he can’t entirely hide his career. Maybe that’s a good thing because it teaches him that it's never as black and white as "if I leave, they'll be safe; if I stay, they'll die". One can raise a child to be strong and, above all, make their own decisions and carve their own path, even as a dad who's for all intents and purposes a criminal. The yakuza are, after all, a fact of everyday living, hidden in plain sight, given how pervasive they are in business and politics. A kid that's seen the flip side of the coin (within reason, because you bet Majima would still be fiercely protective of them) would surely be well equipped for life. It’s what he hopes, at least. If I thought the last ask was long...oh boy. I’d like to deeply thank all my friends off whom I’ve been bouncing these privately ideas for months now!! 💙💙💙 I didn’t think there’d be much interest in Majidad headcanons, but I’m happy to have been proven wrong!

#majima goro #goro majima #dad majima #yakuza headcanons #HEY LISTEN #just last night I hurt myself deeply by modding Majima and the little girl from Dead Souls as Kiryu and Haruka in Kiwami...#screenshots are on my twitter but I might also post them here!#anon asks #answered

130 notes · View notes

honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

banner designer @jamaisjoons | many thanks to @joonsrack for her translations and @jooneggs for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds.

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return.

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways.

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere.

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo?

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic.

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again.

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.”

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval.

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him.

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head.

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.”

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal.

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside.

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle.

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would.

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more.

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible.

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do.

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.”

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you.

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms.

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt.

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more.

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in.

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction.

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go.

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it.

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather.

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction.

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice.

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned.

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile.

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.”

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?”

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes.

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments.

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen.

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air.

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth.

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit? The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes.

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence.

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now.

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?”

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice.

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly.

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot.

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed.

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?”

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him.

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch.

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes.

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face.

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine.

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.”

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength.

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core.

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing.

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth.

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan.

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations.

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?”

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement.

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation.

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity.

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

TAGLIST

Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

@agustdpeach @tinysweetscrown @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @saikokirastuff @kim-ji-woo-hoo

@starryskyslove @taemetiger @wildly-lost-lantern @mini-coop25 @bbbrats

@crafty-babe @megahwn @sope-and-shine @kuppyjiminie @igot7-penta-seo

@brooklyn11208 @taetaehooray @heathenssss @ironicarmy @mykingdomismyheaven

@franklytae @ddaenggtan @scribbleseas @ex-silent-reader @lovelysky15

@0nlyours0 @houseofarmanto @xddaengx @bucky-thorin-winchester @joonadore

@shi-tmp3 @latina-army @djasheyash99 @yeontanie21 @chogiyeol-utopia

@swanqook @parksfilter @jungtaeyoongles @lilylovsu @kaitlynmarie1120

@karma299 @tearkth @hjordan1994 @bangtan-dreamland @sarcasmflowsinmyveins

The rest will be in the comments!

Unable to tag @risefallrise @btsphdotcom @kitty-queen-13 @stardust-and-ashes@crazykpopaddict @positivelyjada @paradisetaemin @awixxx @litty-dumb @passionate-love-57911 @sweeneyblue1 @carrooooooooo @purplepearl07

1K notes · View notes

angstyclowns · 4 years

Text

Alpha! Izuku Midoriya x Omega! Reader (Ft.Omega! Ochako)

ANd I saId AhHaHHAHHA AHHHAHHA

I SaID HeY WhaT’s GOiNg On~~~~

I’m as useless as the G in lasagna on this page I swear.

I also swear I’m super sorry for the inactivity but I’ve been going on hardcore isolation for four weeks (FUcK TruDEaU HaS A CaCTUs DILdO In My AsS) and I’m losing motivation fast, but I’ll try to get some asks done as soon as possible!

Anyway-

I now present my first attempt at a fic on this page-

Warning! Cheating and alpha heart break. Poor IzUwU.

Heartbreak kid

He knew deep down that she wasn’t the omega for him. He knew it, his inner alpha knew it, hell, he was sure deep down, even she knew it. But something in them kept them together. Neither were sure as to what is was, but it raged like an angry forest fire in both of them, keeping them at each others side even if they knew that something- no, someone- was out there, just aching to be a better match.

Izuku knew he didn’t want to keep this relationship going, but the girl -He’d say omega, but that would imply his alpha viewed her as such, when in reality,it barely saw her as a person- was adamant on keeping him within arms reach. But lately, it’s taken such a turn, not even the alpha was sure he could keep up.

Her nest was no longer an acceptable zone, the male not even allowed within a fifteen feet radius of the nest of bed sheets and pillows, her purrs no longer rang throughout the room whenever he cuddled with her, hell, cuddling alone- something both alphas and omegas needed- was so rare, Izuku was shocked beyond words.

“Are you okay?”

The words broke his train of though as the sudden coldness of ink disappeared from his bicep. Bright (E/C) orbs peaked up at him, bangs of (H/C) intruding every so often before she brushed them away. Her scent was vanilla sweet and surrounded him so nicely, making purrs erupt from deep within his chest. Her own purrs echoed around him reciprocation, making his alpha yip in joy.

“I guess. Just thinking...”

The (H/C)ette hummed, resuming her work on his bicep. Somehow the omega below him convinced him to allow her to draw and doodle all over his arm, using skin safe markers of course, acting therapeutic in a way to both of them.

“About Uraraka?”

He nodded as his purrs immediately softened, nearly disappearing completely. The click of the marker cap shutting tightly rung through his ears but, he remained stoic, eyes tracing over line after line etching onto his arm. Beautiful orchids and leaves trailed up and down his upper arm, highlighting the muscles he worked so hard to get. She even went as far as incorporating the scars into part of the piece of work, making them look like veins trailing up and down the petals of a primrose- the centerpiece of the artwork. The peice was beautiful in every way, and if he could, he’d get it tattoo’d permanently. Hell, his inner alpha was debating buying a tattoo machine just so he could have it done permanently.

The soft hand on his un-inked arm brought his attention full circle once more, his emerald orbs snapping forward to meet (E/C) ones. Her facial features were lax and calm, and made him smile. Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear the words coming out of her mouth. He was too busy watching her facial features, how her eyes shined with whatever she was saying, brows raising in the cutest way, he barely even saw her stop talking.

“-Zuku? Izuku? Izuku!”

The alpha shook his head at the sound of his name, quickly flushing red as she giggled, waving him off as he furiously apologized. When he shyly asked her to repeat himself she did so with little hesitation. Thinking back, if he had done the same to his now girlfriend, she’d snap at him.

“I was saying that maybe you and Uraraka should have a movie night tonight. Maybe some time alone would do you both some good. I could help you set up!” Your smile was bright and it made Izuku’s inner alpha whimper at the thought of him and Uraraka alone. He wanted to have movie night with you. Laughing with you as you flawlessly recited lyric after lyric, holding you when the climax of the movie would hit and you would inevitably feel sympathetic for the main character, carrying you to bed after you fell asleep during the credits, cuddling with you until day break. All of these things were things he wanted to do with you. Not her.

Nodding, he followed you into the dorms (Both of you sitting on the outside porch for some fresh air), thinking back onto his relationship with the brunette. She had asked him to scent something for her about two months back, and he was overjoyed. His inner alpha couldn’t care less, as he had already seen you as his omega, but Izuku knew deep down he wouldn’t get that chance. You were gorgeous in every way and he adored you for your kind hearted attitude. He adored you. But that was a far away fantasy in his mind so he settled for Uraraka.

In the first few days, his alpha completely ignored the omega, only recently coming around to even think about her as a suitable omega; and then it was if a flip was switched and they were all back at square one. But this wasn’t his alpha’s fault. Uraraka changed completely, making even Izuku question if he wanted to keep the relationship going. And he was going to break things with her, but he didn’t have a reasonable excuse.

No matter, maybe he could rekindle this dying light with your help.

Or so he thought. Watching as your skipping form abruptly stopped at the kitchen entrance. His brows furrowed as his alpha pushed to the surface, immediately rushing to your side. His heart dropped at the sight.

Iida and Uraraka were hurriedly trying to clean themselves up, the appearance of you obviously disrupting their previous activities (Izuku shuddering at thought of what that could be. But between their disheveled hair and clothes, he could make a pretty good guess). His alpha was snarling wildly and growling, begging to be let out and put that damned omega in her place. Playing with an alpha like that was shameful that in olden days, it was punishable by death.

But Izuku knew that would nothing but scare you, and he didn’t want that. So sucking up his tears and clearing his throat, he merely let the alpha relish in the look of horror that crossed their faces. Clutching his hands into fists, he growled lowly before opening his mouth to speak. Yet the words he heard weren’t his.

They were yours.

“You pitiful excuse of an omega! How in the world could you even think about cheating on an alpha, let alone one as sweet as Izuku?!” You spat the words, snarling as you stepped forward, anger apparent in your words, actions and scent. “Your pathetic doing so! I’m so ashamed of your actions, you almost make me ashamed to be an omega. God, there aren’t enough words in any language to describe how inexcusable your actions have been, much less disgraceful.”

You snapped viciously before turning to face Iida. “And you! How could you do this to one of your best friends?! This is deplorable and surely is enough to tarnish the Iida family name don’t you think?!”

The shocked look the two gave you was enough for you to deem this a triumphant victory before pulling Izuku, who looked seconds away from breaking down to his room. You watched as he let the rivers upon rivers of tears escape the corners of his eyes, eventually leaving him to his own devices, as an angry and upset alpha was also an unpredictable one.

<>~<>~<>~<>

Five days. It had been five days since anyone had seen Izuku. You left him food by his door everyday for every meal, praying he was eating it. Since the stench of death wasn’t constantly wafting from his room, you would say he was.

You had been in his room once within those five days, hoping to collect the dishes he was obviously compiling. He let you in, but holy shit did he look like death hit him with an iron mallet. His hair was greasy and his shirt had stains all over it; eyes puffy from days of crying. It made your omega whine in agony. You ended up making him a makeshift nest that day before leaving with the dishes.

Right now, you were wishing you had stayed with him though. Recovery girl and Aizawa stood in front of you, each looking incredibly disappointed.

Uraraka had challenged you to a fight in the middle of the night, and with your omega still being incredibly angry at her, you didn’t get the chance to decline. It had been a long and tedious battle- mainly because she just wouldn’t give up- but you won in the end; with a price however.

Your eye was swollen and turning darker by the second and the bottom right of your lower jaw was bandaged, and you had numerous other bandages covering cuts all over your body (She had thrown you through a window).

“I’m sure you both realize how incredibly foolish this was-”

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, green hair quickly entering your line of vision as a body collided with yours. Pain seared through your side but you pushed through it, just happy to see the alpha out of his room. Your omega purred loudly before you could stop it, Izuku holding you close to his chest, almost in fear of letting you go. A small cough from the male teacher behind you quickly made him let go, but he still kept a hand on your shoulder.

He sat silently as Aizawa dealt out reprimendments and punishments, turning to you once more after he left.

If you thought he looked bad before, he looked much worse now. Bags set under his eyes, heavy and deep, and his eyes were much more bloodshot. Tear tracks reflected off of the light above you and you could see the nearly gone remnants of the drawing on his arm.

You didn’t get to ponder more on it before he laid his head on top of yours, hiccuping as his breaths came in short gulps of air. It didn’t seem as if he were crying, but you’ve been wrong before.

“Please. Never do that again. When I heard you got into a fight, I- I thought I had failed you again and you were seriously hurt.” His voice cracked, but his arms remained firm, keeping you tightly against him.

“What about me, Deku?” That very voice. The one that started this mess seemed to make Izuku grip you even tighter.

“What about you?” For a normally docile alpha, the growl that escaped him would send shivers down even Bakugo’s spine. You arms instinctively wrapped around the alpha’s ribs as you nuzzled into his chest. You know he’d never hurt you, but your omega would be damned if he wasn’t surrounding by his scent right this minute.

He purred lowly before turning his head to face the brunette beside you two, “I trusted you, Uraraka. And you broke that trust. As far as I’m concerned your nothing but a classmate right now. Maybe one day, we could rebuild a friendship, but I don’t see that day happening anytime soon. I may be partially to blame for trusting you so easily, but even then, cheating on me in downright implorable, even for a villain. You destroyed our friendship, destroyed our relationship and tried fighting Y/N. If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut up and leave me and my omega alone right now.”

Without another word, Izuku picked you up bridal style, quickly carrying you out of Recovery girl’s office.

Deep down, you both knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship just yet- it would take a while for him to get over the harsh reality of a heartbreak. But now, Izuku could look forward knowing you were there to help him on his journey, and when he was ready...

You’d be waiting with open arms and a smile on your face.

#Izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #alpha izuku #alpha izuku x omega reader #alpha izuku midoriya #alpha izuku midoriya x omega reader #alpha midoriya #Omega #alpha/beta/omega #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/beta/omega AU #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #bnha #alpha-bnha #alpha bnha boys #alpha bnha x omega reader #alpha bnha boys x omega reader

1K notes · View notes

ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

With Cherries On Top

Chapter 3: The Ring & The Save

Summary/Author’s Note: I’m so fucking excited for you all to read this I am like BOUNCING. Max in all of his glory being a fucking SHIT. But we love him dearly.

You and Max start learning a little more about each other. Your current predicament calls for a drink...or seven. And the two of you land in Alaska to meet your family. @pedropascalsource for gif credit. Look at that fucking shit and that grin...it happens a lot in this chapter as he starts to schmooze your family.

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: R/18+ - drinking, alcohol, sass, so much sass, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, Max is a bastard man but he is...getting better?, also does he own casual clothes?

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [MASTERLIST]

You had taken Tylenol before you even went through security, but at this point you were pretty sure the entire bottle would not have prepared you for flying with Max Phillips. The non stop flight from JFK to Juno was almost ten hours and you had thought multiple times about stabbing your eardrums out with an ink pen. It wasn't that the flight was bad, in fact the flight itself was quite nice. First class was definitely a new experience but you could get used to it. The padded leather seats and extra leg room meant you could lean back and stretch. You propped yourself up with a pillow, and a book and was content to relax. There was just one problem, Max.

His presence was about as loud as he was and he insisted on chatting up the cute stewardesses, reading over your shoulder, and reminding you almost every fifteen minutes that this flight was boring. He at one point in time asked if you wanted to join the mile-high club and you fought the urge to snap your book shut and smack him with it.

The flight attendant walked by and asked if you needed anything and you sat up and gave her a warm smile.

"Yeah, um, I'll take a vodka cranberry, please."

Max raised an eyebrow and looked at you, "It's nine thirty in the morning."

"Oh, shoot. You're right!" You threw yourself over his lap and leaned into the isle to catch the attendant. Max grunted from the sudden weight of you and you bit back a grin. "I'm sorry, can you make it a Bloody Mary? Thank you."

You leaned back into your seat and opened the binder from immigration. Max dusted off his slacks and continued to look at you with curious disdain.

"Maybe you should eat something first?"

"It comes with celery, I think." You said without looking up. You could feel his eyes on you but refused to give him the satisfaction that it bothered you. The words on the page were suddenly the most interesting thing you had ever seen in your life and when he gave a heavy sigh, you grinned.

The attendant came back with your drink and you smiled as she set it on your fold out table tray.

"Is that the binder from I.N.S?" Max said and you nodded as you wrapped your lips around your straw and drank deep.

"Yup, and we have one week to learn all of this about each other. Which will be easy for me, because I can answer all of these questions about you--but you know nothing about me." You looked up and glared as he snatched the binder from you and started flipping through it.

"You expect me to believe you know all of this about me?"

"I do," you took another drink and turned in your seat to face him. "You never stop talking about yourself--and I've been listening to it for five years."

"Well," he said, flipping the page dramatically and looking at you with a grin. "I am my favorite subject."

"At least you can admit it."

He sat back in his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee, balancing the binder on his leg. "Alright, let's have at it then. What's my favorite color?"

"Red." You said without hesitation. "Which is ironic now, all things considered." He ignored the quip about his vampiric state and you leaned over the seat, making your drink slurp obnoxiously. "You know? Because of the blood--"

"Yes, I get the joke, dear." He moved his finger down the page. "What am I allergic to?"

"Soy, gluten," you ticked off on your fingers before waving your hand. "And a whole spectrum of human emotion."

"Are you going to be like this the whole time?" He looked at you exasperatedly and you shrugged. He sighed and shook his head. "Where did I grow up?"

"Transylvania."

"Okay. I'm done." He snapped the binder shut and you almost felt bad...almost.

"No! Okay, okay, come on, Max. I'm sorry," you put your hand on his arm and he looked down at it, making you pull back like he had burned you. "Queens. You grew up in queens. See?"

"Well, you grew up in Sitka. One down. Only two hundred and ninety-nine more questions to go."

You groaned and threw yourself over Max's lap again and held up your finger. "Excuse me, Ma'am?" You hailed the attendant. "Another Bloody Mary, please."

"Will you please, get off of me?" Max said, and you finished your drink and gave his nose a playful tweak.

You plopped back into your seat and leaned back against the headrest. "Next question."

"Do I have any scars?" He turned in his seat to mirror you.

"You have a pretty bad one on your knee. I see it every time you have your meetings with Ted. A.K.A--racquetball." Max nodded, indicating that you were correct and you continued. "So, what's it from? College sports, I'm guessing. What pretentious, frat-boy sport did you play? Soccer? Lacrosse?" You gasped and put a hand to your mouth. "Ultimate Frisbee?"

"You're very funny." He sneered and shook his head. "And I'm not telling you."

"What about me, Max? Do I have any scars?" You switched up the game. Proving that you knew everything about him wasn't going to get you very far with the government unless he could return the favor.

"No," he leaned in and lowered his voice. "But I'm pretty sure you have a tattoo."

You choked on your drink and the action made him smile. Taking a deep breath and a moment to wipe the tomato juice off of your sleeve, you glared at him. "Pretty sure?"

"Yes, when you had the nerve to be out with the flu and they stuck me with that idiotic temp, she accidentally transferred one of your calls to me. It was to confirm that you wanted to cancel your appointment with a laser removal company." He balanced his chin on his palm and continued to give you a smug grin. He was enjoying this now and it was suddenly a lot less fun.

"What are you getting at detective Phillips?"

"So, what is it?"

"No way," you took another large sip and blushed, turning away from him. "I'm not telling you."

"You know they're going to ask. I have to know. Is it a dolphin? An infinity symbol?...'live, laugh, love'?" He gave a mock gasp and put a hand to his mouth. He was imitating your earlier jest about his scar. This was still a game to him and all you had managed to do was encourage it by baiting him.

"You know, I really am glad you're having fun with this, but do remember I could go to prison. Give me that--" you snatched the binder back from him and he let you have it. "Next question. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?"

"That's easy," he kicked back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his chest. The action made you realize just how long he was. Between his broad shoulders and impressive calves, he barely fit in the chair. It had to be the alcohol talking. "We stay at mine," he said simply, drawing your gaze from his body.

"Why wouldn't we stay at mine?"

"Because I live at Central Park West. And you no doubt live in some squalid little studio apartment full of houseplants and a dusty, lonely, wine rack that you never use, because it's for guests you never have." He waved his hand as if imagining it and your jaw dropped.

You stayed quiet and closed the binder placing it in the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him. The small bursts of moments when Max wasn't being an asshole, it was easy to forget how real this was. He was charming and you both threw it back at one another so easily that it felt like a game. But when his real nature came roaring back to life and his dig against you was just a tad too deep--well, you didn't want to play anymore.

"What are you doing? We have more."

You sucked the rest of your drink down and put it on the edge of the tray for the attendant to take.

"We should get some rest." You said flatly, pulling the thin airline blanket up over your shoulder. "Knowing my mother, she has a big dinner or something planned."

"Wonderful," he said, folding his hands across his chest as he settled back into his seat.

The two of you stayed quiet for the majority of the trip. You frequently looked over your shoulder to see if he was even still next to you, as he didn't make a sound when he breathed. It was unnerving but no doubt had something to do with him being undead. Did he even need to breathe? You had certainly seen him do it. Was it an act? Fuck all of this was going to send your family over the edge.

The last time you pulled back your silk, airline stamped eye mask, Max wasn't in his seat. His table tray was pulled down and sitting on top of it was a small black velvet box. You looked around but he was nowhere to be seen.

Your fingers traced the shape of the box gently before you picked it up and pried it open. The ring that sat inside was stunning. It was gold, with a few small diamonds in the band on each side before leading up to the main piece--a large teardrop ruby rimmed with more diamonds. You weren't sure if the red stone was meant to be a joke but regardless, it was actually very pretty.

It slid over your finger in a perfect fit and you watched it sparkle in the sunlight from the window over your shoulder. Despite your frustrations, you had to admit, Max Phillips continued to be full of surprises.

Seeing Max rattle in his cramped seat while the puddle jumper took you from Juno to Sitka brought you more joy than it should have. His broad shoulders were folded in on themselves as and he was glaring straight ahead like finding a fixed point on the wall would keep him from committing murder. You knew the flight wouldn't be long, and after the amount of Bloody Marys you had consumed on the last plane, you were too buzzed to care.

As soon as your feet stepped down off of the stairs and onto the tarmac, you saw your family, waving and jumping on the side of the airstrip with a 'welcome home' sign. Oh boy. Here we go.

"Chad! Talk to me, champ." Max said loudly and you turned around to see he had put in his Bluetooth. It made you roll your eyes and you didn't bother to wait for him as you started towards your relatives.

Your mother was soft and sweet and the joy you felt as she squealed and threw her arms around your neck couldn't compare to any other kind of happiness. She smelled like home and fresh baked bread, like holiday candles and clean laundry--things that made you think of home. She pulled back to look at you like you had grown so much since she last saw you, despite being practically the same, and you laughed as she kissed each of your cheeks.

"Oh, I missed you!" She said, hugging you again before passing you off to your grandmother.

"Missed you, too, Mom. Hey, Nana," you said as you stooped down to hug the older woman.

Your mom paused and pulled you back close enough to sniff the air in front of you. "Honey, have you been drinking?"

“Oh--” you leaned back and shook your head, which was a mistake as the world spun just a little bit. “Of course not. There was a guy on the plane and he--”

"We don’t care about any of that," Your grandmother waved a hand to stop your mom from continuing to make a fuss over you. "Where's your man??"

You stopped breathing for a moment as you were suddenly reminded that you were lying to the people who loved you the most. With a bite of your lip, you looked over your shoulder and gestured to Max who was slowly making his way over to you and still talking on his earpiece.

"That's him, the one in the suit."

"Oh, my," your mom said, lowering her welcome sign and taking in the sight that was your boss and now assumed lover.

"You've been keeping that from us for five years?" Nana said as she elbowed you in the ribs and your mother glared at her. “He seems a bit overdressed.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing down at your leggings, warm boots, and well worn over sized sweater in comparison to Max’s custom blue suit and silk tie. You hoped to god that Max had brought more suitable clothes for what was supposed to be a relaxing family oriented week in Alaska. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Chad--I think I lost you. Can you hear me? Hello? Helloooo? Shit.” Max tapped the device in his ear repeatedly as he looked around like he would be able to see where there would be better signal. He had yet to acknowledge either you or your family and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Honey,” you said and Max had the audacity to hold up his finger to you as he continued to turn in a half circle. “Honey.” You tried again and finally you raised your voice curtly, “Max!”

“What?” he hissed and you reached up and took the earpiece out of his ear. It took everything you had not to turn and chuck it into the harbor. You gestured to your mom and grandmother and Max’s face changed into his large and inviting smile.

“We agreed not to bring work onto this trip, it’s family time, right?” You raised an eyebrow and he glared at you. “This is my mom and grandmother,” you gestured to them, keeping a firm hold on his Bluetooth and almost daring him to try and get it back.

“You won’t get any reception on that thing anyway, dear,” your grandma waved to Max and then around to the vast landscape. “Too many trees.” She took a few steps over to him and gave him a hug like he wasn’t a complete stranger. You had to give Max props, he hugged her back and managed not to look entirely uncomfortable as he silently worried she was going to wrinkle his suit. “Now, do you prefer to be called ‘Max’ or ‘Satan Reincarnated’? Because we’ve heard it both ways.” She laughed as she patted his chest and smiled up at him.

“Nana!” You looked at her wide-eyed and Max grinned from ear to ear. How was it that the elderly managed to get away with saying the most inappropriate things?

“Oh, have you?” he glanced at you and you felt your face get hot. “Max is fine. As long as I can call you Nana.” He continued to offer that grin that you knew to be his trademark salesman smile but it made your grandmother positively beam.

“Of course!” she said, patting his chest again and adjusting his pocket square. You ran a hand through your hair wanting to scream.

“Shall we?” You interjected and grabbed your suitcase with one hand and your mother’s arm with another. The two of you walked pointedly towards the edge of the pier and she looked at you with parental concern.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassured with a shake of your head, slowing down for Max and your grandma could catch up. “I’m just tired.” If you continued to lie this much you were certain your nose was going to grow pointed.

Your mother helped the elderly woman down the ladder that connected the main strip to the edge of the pier where the family speedboat was parked. The chill off of the water made you shiver, it was definitely coming up on winter time and with the constant overcast came icy waters and snow. Max was just lucky it wasn’t summer time as the non-stop sunlight would have been an issue.

Looking over the ladder and feeling your body sway without even being on the water, you were starting to regret the amount of drinks you had had on the plane. You put a hand to your lips as a small amount of indigestion came up to the middle of your throat. Max stopped beside you and held his hand out expectantly.

“I’ll take my headset back, thank you,” he snarled and you ignored him. “Are you going to be sick? Pull yourself together--”

“Pull myself together? Pull m--” you shook your head and slapped the small device into his hand. “Unbelievable, you’re unbelievable.”

“This is going to be a long fucking week,” he said, looking at the boat as your family settled in. “I’m not getting in that. I cannot get these wet. They’re Armani.” He gestured to his shoes and you vowed in that moment that if you did wind up vomiting, it would be on those shoes.

“Hence the boat,” you gestured. It was the only way of getting to the island that the tiny town resided on, you were happy to make him swim but somehow you doubted that would go over very well with your family. “Either you climb down or you can stay here and I’ll see you in a week--”

“Fine. Fine.” He stopped arguing and climbed down the ladder, hopping the last few rungs to land firmly on the pier. He held up his arms as you passed down the suitcases and tossed his shoulder bag to him and he placed them in the back of the boat. “Are you coming?” he added impatiently as you leaned heavily on the railing at the top of the ladder.

“Give me a minute,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I told you to eat something. You’re drunk--”

“I am not.” You argued with him, straightening your posture and turning around to climb down the ladder. You were going to prove him wrong even if it meant that you landed on your ass. It was simple, all you needed to do was put one foot down in front of the other and keep a tight hold. Rinse and repeat until your feet were firmly planted on the wooden boards--simple.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart,” Max said, and you didn’t have to look to know he was staring up at your ass. “Those leggings are nice--are you wearing a thong?”

“Oh my god, shut up, Max,” you paused and leaned your head against the ladder, wanting to both strangle him and dive into the pier and let the ocean take you far away from the week ahead of you. After a few moments, you regained your sense of self and took a few more rungs down.

“Almost there,” he encouraged and you let out a heavy sigh. “There ya go--annnnd, congratulations. I am now five hundred years old.”

“Good for you, old man,” you quipped and tried to push passed him. Your boot caught on one of the loose boards and there was nothing to catch yourself on as you started to tumble. Despite refusing to admit that Max was right, maybe you should have eaten something. Your desperate attempt to forget your current situation was about to land you in the middle of the freezing gulf. You heard your mom gasp from the boat but instead of hitting the water, Max’s arm shot around your waist and pulled you back against his chest with ease.

You stumbled and grabbed the front of his suit coat as you tried to turn around and he tightened his grip. He looked down at you with a grin that was much different than the one he had been giving your family. “Got ya.”

“Nice going, Max!” your grandmother cheered and you knew there would be no living with him after this.

“Thank you,” you said curtly and tried to move from his arms but he didn’t release you.

“What, no kiss?” he smirked, keeping his voice low enough that your family couldn't hear him. “I did just save your life.”

“Let. go. of. me. Max.” You said through gritted teeth and you braced for him to force a kiss on you for the sake of your family, but to your surprise, he released you. The way he watched you as you climbed into the boat, all dark eyes and wide grin, sent a shiver down your spine.

PERM TAG LIST

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @stevieharrrr @winters-buck @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @sendhoots @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @silver-lined-solitude @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut @@hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @manda-but-not-lorian @maybege @corvueros @thea-cartier @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer

@apples-of-february @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @agentpike @pascalplease @cosmicbug379 @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland

CHERRIES TAG LIST: @atlas-adams-apple @the-feckless-wonder @legally-a-bastard @heatherbel @spacegayofficial @holographic-carmen @queenofheavenandhell @space-floozy @corvueros @catfishingmorales @hdlynn @escapinginmymind078 @thelastemzy @88dragon06 @yaboiithewreck @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrpascals @pedropascals420 @agentpike @hdlynnslibrary@gamingaquarius @thelastemzy @californiakoenig @trashbin2 @silver-lined-solitude @whiskeyslasso @timeslugarts @marydjarin @lannister-slings-and-arrows @misslolasworld @starlights-starwrites @arrowswithwifi

#max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #the proposal #pedro character fic #pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

561 notes · View notes