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jen-with-a-pen · 2 months

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𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬, 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗨𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗦

summary: After what you assumed would be a successful mission, things veer off-course and you're stuck with Bucky Barnes in Istanbul with no way out until morning. The tension between you comes to head and nothing will be the same again.

parings: Protective!Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Sniper!Agent!Curvy!F!Reader

word count: 6.5K

warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, canon-level violence with just a bit more blood, guns, reader is a sniper/sharp-shooter, hate-making out, degradation, fighting, insults and cursing, teasing/banter, reader and bucky don't know how to talk about their feelings (or to eachother), spanking, doggy, angry-horny, rough-ish sex, pent up anger, pent up sexual tension, power dynamics, protective!Bucky, vague hinting to Bucky's PTSD, no use of y/n, reader is tagged as curvy and is described as such but body description is kept to a minimum

a/n: this work is for @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge! My prompts were "enemies to lovers" and "Again! Please, again!" I am incredibly thankful to Suz for letting me participate. I haven't been able to participate in a challenge since forever ago 😅 ALSO! This is my first time writing enemies to lovers, as well as curvy!reader! even though i'm curvy myself, i hope i did okay ♥ This work is not beta-read. all mistakes are my own. If any mistake is glaringly obvious, please feel free to message me and let me know! p.s. I listened to a lot of PVRIS + Nothing But Thieves writing this, can ya tell? p.p.s. the amount of willpower and struggle with my muse it took to finish this is... a lot. i think she scratched my cornea at some point.

If I’ve missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @unearthlydust | dividers by @cafekitsune | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist title from: You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚

Bucky Barnes has always hated you, and you have always hated Bucky Barnes. At least since you first met, that is.

Being the newest recruit– and only sharp-shooter– to grace the S.H.I.E.L.D. Direct Action Team’s roster since signing on the Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, the hostility was almost immediate from the second you walked in your first day.

You couldn’t help cringing– which would be quickly followed by raging annoyance and a slight migraine– without remembering your first time training with Bucky. He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust your previous experience or trainers, let alone your sniper training. Within the first week he ground your spirit into dust with his leather combat boots, quashing any attempts to defend yourself. And it’s not like you weren’t familiar with his history, either; he’d broken every single last sharp-shooter that came to the team before you, a hardass ex-assassin with an introverted mean streak who happened one of the top snipers in the United States Army during World War II. Old dogs certainly can learn new tricks, though, and it was extremely apparent when it came to Bucky Barnes.

When you finally had enough midway through the third week, you snapped at him after he corrected you for the umpteenth time on your foot positioning, pointedly informing him you weren’t built like you could take on a goddamned semi-truck with one hand.

Once you finished, he silently handed you a pistol and challenged you to a shoot off. One-handed. You considered it a tie. Tony considered the training range off-limits until he got government permission via S.H.I.E.L.D. to replace every single shooting target and torso dummy in the compound– including the extras.

After that, the two of you weren’t allowed in the gym, on the same mode of transportation, in the infirmary, or the training range without someone else to supervise with a tranquilizer gun at the ready and within arm’s reach of said supervisor. More often than not, though, the ‘someone else’ was either Steve or Natasha– depending who won the coin toss before training that day– and the tranquilizer gun wasn’t really more of a tranquilizer gun than it was a slight sedative to calm each of you down enough for either Steve, or Nat, to drag you out without kicking and screaming at each other. Granted, it only happened one time– a workout competition-turned-sparring match that lasted the better part of four hours– but everyone else agreed to keep it around. Just in case.

You learned, however, exactly how much ketamine it took to down a raging super soldier with a vibranium arm. You couldn’t help but make horse whinnies under your breath every time you passed Bucky in the compound for at least a week.

With a year of domestic missions underneath your belt, S.H.I.E.L.D. constituted you ready to travel with the DA Team on international missions and operations. You were elated, excited to prove your worth and wit to everyone; especially Bucky, because maybe then he’d be at least keen enough to start showing you a drop of respect.

Then there was the fallout of when you both learned you’d be sent on the next mission. Together. Albeit with Natasha and Clint– but together.

Fury said he didn’t have a choice. Tony claimed it was out of his hands. Natasha, while protecting a cowering Steve from the flames and daggers shooting out of yours and Bucky’s glares, flat out told you, “either you both learn to work together, or neither of you are working DA missions again,” adding, with gritted teeth and a pinched bridge, “The whole team thinks you’re a fucking pair of walking time bombs. I don’t wanna use the damn ketamine gun again.”

The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to Turkey with your rifle, wits, and the waiting promise of separate hotel rooms upon arrival.

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A reddened sun dipped over the Istanbul skyline, swathing the city in shadows. Dusk was imminent as you ascended the rusted fire escape and stepped onto the roof of the abandoned building; the dilapidated outside was perfect enough to designate it as the main stake out location. You sighed in awe at the view, catching the remnants of the sunset while pausing for a brief break before switching into ‘work mode.’

“Stop fuckin’ around, get into position,” Bucky said through your ear piece. Shit. You forgot he could see your video feed via the harness crossing over your chest and the cameras Natasha set up on the roof and the building next door.

“Sorry, Sarge, thought I’d enjoy the view before I dome some fuckin’ war criminal from a thousand yards away,” you huffed. The line went silent, save from what sounded like very faint cursing amidst the static. You rolled your eyes, swinging the gun bag off your back, unpacking and assembling and loading, preparing for working on yet another thrilling Saturday night.

You silently prayed the hotel had a decent bar with decent hours.

Dropping into a prone position, you were thankful for the custom-fit tac suit that hugged your body as your hips and thighs scraped against debris littering the roof as you positioned the scope of your rifle, placing your hand delicately on the trigger.

“In position,” you muttered, adjusting into a more comfortable, ready-to-bail position in case things went south. When you shot prone, it felt as if the mission at hand weighed just a bit heavier than others. More unbearable. The tactical suit and additional weapons attached to your aching body rivaled that of cinder blocks chained to your legs, weighing you down to the ocean floor in an attempted drowning while you tried to stay above water.

It's never gotten easier, but it's never been harder.

The past two days had been filled with inconsistent sleep, hiding out, and keeping watch, all while under the watchful eye of Bucky. Bucky, who was watching you from inside the stakeout building, who threw a super soldier temper tantrum about having to figure out the ‘nonsensical logistics’ of how to stream a fucking live video feed, who barely bothered to say a word to you while meeting Natasha at the location that morning– aside from graciously allowing you to borrow his weapons cleaning kit.

“You didn’t bring your own?” He cocked a judgmental brow at you, looking you up and down like a creature that crawled out of the Black Lagoon. Steely sea-blue eyes met yours, sharp and bright. Challenging. The collar of your tactical suit had instantly tightened.

“Figured we both use the same stuff, might as well bring the one to save space,” you shrugged, cocking a hip.

Bucky’s eyes flitted to your pronounced curve before you straightened, swallowing.

“Fine. Go nuts,” he sighed reluctantly, gesturing for you to sit in the guarded seat across from him. You sensed his piercing gaze follow you, feeling the same heat creep up your neck and cheeks just like all the other times he watched you. You chocked it up to an intimidation tactic, because it sure as hell worked.

You shook Bucky out of your brain. You needed to stay focused.

“Copy. Target is en route to position, t-minus two minutes. Make it clean and make it quick.” Natasha's voice was cool, calming you and the usual racing thoughts in your head during these types of missions. You preferred her over anyone else to be your spotter since your first time out in the field, but this time she was assigned to be the plant, luring the target away from the rather innocent party-goers so they wouldn’t be splattered with brain matter and skull fragments courtesy of you.

Though, you had to admit, in the right scenarios, that was one of the more satisfying things that came with being a sniper.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush it,” Bucky chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Copy, Nat, just keep dangling the carrot.”

“You know I’ll do more than that. Out.” You could hear her wink.

Two minutes might not seem like much, but missions like these can make it feel like a lifetime. Part of you hoped Bucky watched every second. The other half hoped you could smack the doubtful smirk off his stubble-ridden face– the same exact one he had whenever he watched you train. It was like he wanted you to fail. Like he was expecting it, anticipating it.

You pinched your wrist. Now was not the fucking time.

You brought the scope closer to your face, targeting the window Natasha would be bringing the target in front of. The crosshairs helped even out the scene while you lined up the shot right between the bedroom’s curtains. You readied yourself, focusing on breathing and controlling the rise and fall of your chest, steadying your bottom half. You blinked, then, and through the sights you spotted the golden shimmer of Natasha’s dress reflecting off the room’s low lighting. Finger on the trigger, delicately squeezing as the target’s head entered into the crosshairs, stepping unknowingly into the middle of your aim, mere seconds left to live, left until he rots in his deserved place in hell.

Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Pull.

The target dropped in mere milliseconds as the shot reverberated throughout your body, the sound thankfully muffled by your ear pieces and the silencer. The recoil of the rifle dug into your shoulder, fighting against the rest of your body anchored by stiffened muscles. You exhaled, shaky, still, pushing the scope from your face and resting your head on the cool metal of the stock, allowing it to sear into your burning forehead.

“Confirmed kill. Target down. Meet you back at the hotel, over,” Natasha’s breathless voice crackled into your ear.

“Copy. On my way down. Bucky do you–”

White hot pain suddenly seared through the back of your skull, slamming you face-first into your rifle. You clutched the back of your head, whipping around to be greeted by the dark void of a gun barrel. You froze, blood draining from your face, stomach free-falling as your gaze traveled up to meet crazed eyes and a twisted face. The man– your assaulter– was clad in black with hints of a tattoo running up his neck like blackened veins. No doubt the symbols hidden under his collar belonged to the syndicate run by his boss. The boss you just killed.

He snarled, yellowed teeth glistening in a maniacal grin. “You’re going to pay for that, little bitch,” he spat and nodded to your rifle as he shoved the barrel in your face. The metal practically branded you like marking a cattle for slaughter.

“Try me, prick,” you gritted through ringing pain and a locked jaw, snarling at the man as you rose, slowly, the barrel unmoving as the gun followed your position.

His grin widened. He began pushing you backwards towards the edge of the roof. Quickly, you kicked your foot out, catching his ankle and grabbing his wrist, pointing the gun at the darkened sky as you clawed at his fingers to release it from his grasp. A deafening shot rang out as you wrestled, sending an elbow straight into your jaw that shoved you away. He aimed for you again as you pulled a knife from your waistband, hurling it at any limb you could hit. It nailed him in his thigh, deep enough you knew it hit bone. He dropped the pistol in favor of his leg, allowing you enough of a break to kick the gun off the roof, sliding it off the opposite edge and down the fire escape.

You stood. You noticed the flicker, the fire, in the man’s eyes as it raged, burning brighter than the streetlights below. He yelled as he lunged, knocking you down again. Hard. Lungs deflated, pain seared through your spine, leaving you sputtering and gasping, grasping desperately for anything: his arms, his legs, your knife, your knife in his leg. Your head spun from the impact, rage and bile boiling in your stomach as arms and legs kicked and thrashed. The man grabbed you by your hair as if to scalp you, limping his way to the edge of the roof, dragging you along inch by inch. You deadened, going limp, hoping to make it that much harder for him to drag you with a knife in his fucking femur. Your stomach dropped as the wind picked up and the distance from the fire escape grew farther away. You knew what was in store: a five-story drop onto the hard street below.

With impressive strength for a man who was actively bleeding out– and bleeding all over you– he swung you around by the fistful of hair in his hands, dangling your bottom half off the edge of the roof. You fought the panic beginning to set in, thrashing your feet around in an attempt to find some sort of foothold as your hands scrambled to grip the ledge. To add insult to injury, he slammed your head down, skull and jaw dropping with a dizzying thump. A gruff laugh erupted from his chest, and he spat at you. You glanced hesitantly over your shoulder. The world stretched and morphed the longer you looked; your eyes saw a fifty-foot drop while your brain saw a thousand foot death sentence. You willed your sore neck to turn back to the man, only to fight the scream that bubbled up your throat at the sight of a miniature pistol pointed execution-style at you. You ceased any movement, eyes widening, grip tightening on the inch-thick ledge of the roof that held you from becoming a human pancake.

“Looks like you’ll pay after all, bitch!” He grinned, cocking the pistol and preparing to fire. As he squeezed the trigger, as you squeezed your eyes shut, there’s a muffled shot, and then a warm, oozing feeling running down your face and neck. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, greeted by the sight of the man’s jaw slackened as his eyes began to roll back in his skull. A singular bullet wound centered on his forehead leaked brain and blood and bits of bone. He’s shoved over, body falling like a rag doll and spilling onto the roof. He’s quickly replaced by a seething, panting Bucky with a pistol pointed where your would-be-killer stood. Your eyes widened as your chest constricted, fingertips grinding against the edge as your arms burned and begged to be pulled to solid ground. He lowers the gun, lips parted, eyes boring into your soul like he’s seen a ghost.

“Sar–Bucky, I’m fuckin’ slipping here!” you yelled as your left hand began to give way to gravity. The entirely reasonable request seemed to piss him off even more as he cursed, dropping his gun and grabbing harshly onto your arms, yanking you back up. He dropped you onto the roof in a heap. While your muscles screamed and you hacked up your lungs trying to regain normal oxygen levels, the annoyance you harbored for Bucky returned just as quickly as the gratefulness you had for his rescue faded once he turned his back on you, heading to the fire escape.

“Thanks, Bucky, but Jesus fucking–”

He whipped around, blue eyes flashing crimson– a warning sign to choose your next words extremely carefully.

“Clean up n’ get the fuck down. I’m leaving with or without you in ten fucking minutes,” he seethed, fists clenching onto the fire escape bars. You winced at the groaning sound the metal emitted as he bent it out of place, imprinting his palm prints into the bars.

“Bucky, I– What do–” you stuttered. Thoughts were racing as you looked between him and your would-be murderer decaying in his own drying blood a few feet away. You looked back at him. His eyes, swimming with something unrecognizable, mixed with fear and anger plaguing his features– like he remembered something so vivid, so real, that he was reliving it again.

“Just,” he turns his back to you, voice shaking, “get down here.”

He disappeared, leaving you to clean up the mess.

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The back alleyway was lit with a single, softly glowing flood light that led out to the busy streets. Bucky, who was already waiting for you with a furiously tapping foot, surveilled you with a stuck-snarling lip as you jumped down from the fire escape. The gilded plates in his hand leading up under his sleeve glinted with the violet-tinted vibranium.

There's a moment, a beat, shared between you as you stood to look at him. You stared at one another, gazes unwavering and refusing to break, to blink. The shadows surrounding you began to move as if they were dancing on Bucky's face, sharpening his jaw, his features. He stayed on you, eyes flitting ever-so-slightly over your form.

Your face burned.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Take a fuckin’ picture why don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes. “Could say th’same for you.”

He grumbled something– probably cursing you– under his breath. As he opened his mouth to hurl an insult your way, both your phones pinged.

♦ Natasha: Taking last flight out of IST. Jet coming early AM. Lay low. Don’t kill each other. Please. Talk soon.

You swallowed a groan.

“Fuckin’ great,” Bucky muttered, loud enough for you to hear.

“Uh, okay. Fuck you, too, then,” you shot at him defensively. Knee-jerk reaction. Pinching the bridge of your nose and kicking yourself, you dropped the subject. Not the fight you wanted to pick at that moment. “Let’s– let's just call a cab and get to the hotel.”

“No. I have a bike. And we’re going to a safehouse.”

“Bucky, it's dark enough, my bag is–”

Suddenly, he was much closer than a mere second before, backing you up against the wall of the stakeout building. He beat you in height by a decent amount, but him towering over you really put it in perspective. His broad shoulders heaved, vibranium arm whirring in overdrive as he jabbed a plated finger at you, his face inches from yours.

“I. Don't. Fucking. Care,” he stabbed each word into your sternum. “Bike’s down at the other end of the block. We're taking it, or you can fuckin’ walk. Doesn't matter to me.”

You wanted to take his finger and break it.

You glared, focus shifting between his startlingly bright blue eyes and the strange closeness of his face to yours. It was like you were seeing him– like, actually seeing him– for the first time in high definition. All of his details– the small scars by his hairline, the slight crookedness of his nose, crow’s feet and worry lines beginning to etch themselves into his skin, the indent between his brows– overwhelmed you as your eyes darted all over his face. You snapped back to his glare and were suddenly very conscious of your own facial expression that failed to rival his. You set your jaw and furrowed your brow.

You doubted it was convincing.

“Fine.”

He stepped back and started striding down the alleyway with you at his heels. Your grip on the straps of the gun bag burned your palms as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s annoyingly long strides. At the intersection between the main street and two shops sat a garage; it appeared closed for the night, but was still open to Bucky, apparently, who pulled a key out from under an unsuspecting plant. He unlocked the large metal door, lifting it to reveal a tiny space that was barely big enough to house the large motorcycle and a workbench scattered with parts and tools. He strolled in like he owned the place and grabbed one of the helmets hanging off the motorcycle’s handles, handing it to you with an outstretched arm as he saddled himself onto the bike. You looked from him to the helmet, mouth agape and brow arched in confusion.

When you didn’t take it, he rolled his eyes and shook it at you.

“C’mon, we don’t have all night.”

“When the hell did you–”

“I’ve got my ways. Now c’mon, put the damn helmet on,” he huffed, leaning back on the seat. His thick thighs clenched and straddled the gunmetal-body of the motorcycle. You held back the shiver that ran up your back as you crossed your arms, hip cocking out in defiance. In the briefest of pauses, Bucky stilled, and you swore you caught his eyes scanning down your body, your curves and full figure, before snapping back up to meet yours. He scoffed, smirking to himself and shaking his head.

“The fuck are you laughin’ at?” Your face turned hot, prompting your arms to hug tighter over your chest. You felt off balance.

He said nothing and tossed the helmet to you. Your arms uncrossed and reacted much faster than your brain did as you barely caught it, slipping it on. Pointedly sighing, you relented and climbed onto the bike as Bucky put his own helmet on, sliding the visor down. In the shortly-live silence, your breathing echoed his, the air weighing heavy with anticipation. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every single little touch, every tiny movement made, every breath taken– like a bucket of ice water getting splashed on you, you were present for what felt like the first time that night.

The bike roared to life and Bucky leaned forward to fit his body closer to the handles.

“Might wanna hang on,” he yelled over the noise. You hesitated, probably for a second too long for Bucky’s liking as he looked behind you and rolled his eyes (you knew he did, even behind the stupid visor.) He reached behind his back and grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him and wrapping your arm around his waist. Your free arm followed suit, tightly embracing him, heart pounding in your chest at the sudden act. You lurched forward as he rode out of the garage and began down the street; the location was a mystery to you, other than you knew it was one of the regular S.H.I.E.L.D. approved safehouses in Istanbul.

Weaving through the other bikes and cars, you couldn’t help but lean closer into Bucky, watching the lights and sights pass by in a blur. Fingers fanned over his abdomen as you held on, feeling the firm leather tac jacket against your skin– which became firmer upon pressing into him and feeling like you were palming a brick wall. Knees fit together at the sides of the bike, shifting ever-so-slightly whenever he braked or shifted. Worst of all, as you hugged your chest into his back, you had a front-row seat in viewing the way his broad shoulders twisted with laser-like precision as he drove.

It took every ounce of energy not to let go and fall off the bike.

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The four-flight trudge up to the safehouse– more like safeapartment, actually– was a miserable one, especially with twenty pounds worth of gear on your back and a highly impatient super soldier on your ass telling you to “hurry the fuck up.”

“Again: ‘m not built like a fuckin’ freight train, here, Bucky,” you panted as your legs struggled in rounding the fourth and final landing. He didn’t bother to wait for you, instead turning wordlessly off the landing, heading down the hallway to the door with the keys jingling against his vibranium hand. You caught up to him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he fumbled with the sticky lock, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his hands moved. The way the vibranium prosthetic moved as fluidly as his flesh and bone, the way the plates glinted in the dimly lit hallway, the way his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

Bucky swung the door open, pulling you out of your trance. He flicked on a light switch to reveal a small apartment complete with a cramped living room, couch, small T.V., and an open kitchen in the back. A hallway diverted off to the left, presumably to the bathroom and–

“It’s a one bedroom,” Bucky muttered, stepping into the apartment. You looked at him incredulously.

“You– you’re kidding, right?” you asked, closing the door behind you and dropping your bag off to the side.

“No. Why would I?” Bucky turned to you, cocking a brow with hands set on his hips, revealing his undone tac jacket and the tightest fucking dry-fit shirt underneath. It was practically a second skin, hugging against his abs you felt earlier. You stared slack-jawed at him like he didn’t just hear himself speak.

“Because there’s only one fucking bed?”

“Yeah. And I’m taking it. You get couch duty,” he stated matter-of-factly. His crooked smirk prodded at your nerves.

You scoffed and mirrored his stance. “What? No! I did the work today, you sat around and just… watched.”

His face hardened. “I sat and just… watched?” he repeated, tone challenging you as he took a step forward.

You swallowed. “You heard me.”

One second, you were ready to hurl another choice word at Bucky. The next, you were slammed against the back of the door. Hard.

Bucky had rushed you, grabbing your arms with bruising force and forcing them up, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. You yelled in protest, failing to squirm out of the cage that was his body.

“Look at me right fuckin’ now,” he demanded, lips curling into a snarl and bared teeth. His voice turned, a complete 180. Dominating, commanding, enraging. When you didn’t obey instantly, he slammed your wrists against the door again.

“Look at me!”

“No! Fuck– Get off me!”

With your feet still free, you started kicking him, eliciting what sounded like a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest. Bucky passed your wrist in his metal hand off to his flesh one, pinning both hands above your head while shoving a thick thigh between both of yours– right against your core. An uncontrollable yelp escaped from you as he pushed. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and it took every bit of control to stop yourself from clenching your thighs together automatically. The fire Bucky ignited only grew, imaginary flames roaring in your stomach and racing up your limbs. His prosthetic hand snaked up your neck and squeezed your chin, squishing your cheeks and lips, forcing your eyes to him.

You felt lightheaded. Bucky– fuck, nobody– ever grabbed you like that; like you belonged to them. To him.

“You’re gonna listen to me, and listen good,” he shook your face, “I saved your fuckin’ life tonight, ‘member? When you were defenseless and as good as fuckin’ dead on that roof? You made me shoot that piece of shit point blank. You made me almost shoot you.”

His voice shook and he looked away, biting his lip then coming back to you. “I fuckin’ saved your life when you should’ve saved your own. If it’d been any later– if I’d been a second later–” He steadied a breath, shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. He focused back on you with wildly electric blues. “I saved your life. Therefore, I get the goddamned bed tonight. Got it?”

You stared at him for a second longer before nodding gently. The energy building between you was enough to burn the entire building down if someone lit a cigarette. A smirk slowly bloomed across your lips. He released your chin, hand sinking down to rest against your collarbone.

“Is that all, Sergeant?”

His Adam's apple bobbed.

“What did you just call me?” he whispered, sliding a vibranium palm around the column of your neck, plated fingers resting on your pulse point. He twitched. Inches.

“You heard me.”

The air, thick in the apartment, felt charged.

“Needja t’say it again. Can’t hear too well,” he slurred, licking his lips. Eyelids fluttering, hands squeezing. Centimeters.

“Whatever you say,” you lilted. Millimeters. “Sergeant.”

Lightning struck. Everything ignited, setting fire to both of you as Bucky’s lips seared into yours. Hard, sloppy, desperate as tongue and teeth swapped secrets like old friends. He was unexplored territory, yet he felt so familiar. His prosthetic slowly relented the grip on your wrists, dropping to your shoulder, sliding down your chest where he greedily groped and slid over every last peak and dip of your body: tits screaming for release from your suit; hips jerking in short bursts at his every movement. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, forcing your thick thighs to spread wider as his own pushed further against your arousal.

“Been–” Bucky smacked your lips, kissing hungrily across your cheek and biting down your neck, “Shit– Been wanting this so– long, fuck–” He pressed into you, his cock harder a gun in his waistband. You couldn’t hold onto the intensely lust-filled moan that spilled from your throat much longer. Bucky grinned against your neck, lapping and sucking and marking your skin like he owned you. Like he could do whatever he wanted to you.

And you let him.

“Gotta get this shit off you,” Bucky mumbled into your neck as he shed his own jacket, face not leaving your skin. Rough hands grabbed onto you and ripped away the buckles and buttons of the jacket that kept your body from him. A deep groan rumbled inside his chest as he threw the top half of your suit to the side, drinking in the beautiful sight of your body, hugged in all the right places by the cami that was riding up your stomach while your tits gasped for air, spilling out, fighting against your sports bra.

“Holy–fuck, holy shit.”

Bucky Barnes was speechless. And you were the reason why.

He stopped as your wrists came down from above your head and fell down your frame.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your heart stopped.

“You’re telling me.”

Another charge surged and you threw yourself at Bucky, sending both of you stumbling through the living room. Hands grasped and groped. Fingers busied themselves with removing clothing, undoing pants to throw one way and stripping shirts to toss another. You were magnetized to him, carding through his cropped chocolate hair, hooking your arms behind his neck– which was still bare and practically begging you to mark it in every way you knew. Stumbling over an end table, knocking into the wall that led down the hallway, dragging one another to the bedroom only to pause when you whined at Bucky to shut the door.

Both of you were near-naked, relishing in each other’s skin by the time you made it to the bed, falling on it with him on top of you in a heap. Bucky hiked you further up the bed, dropping you onto the several pillows that made it feel like Cloud 9. You looked up at him straddling your hips with legs that seemed to spread wider the further down he sat. Eyelids fluttered while your pupils adjusted to the dark bedroom. What lay before was a scene out of your wildest fantasy.

Bucky sat back on his hips, hair spiking out in wild tufts, cock aching to break free from the confines of his briefs as he stared back at you hungrily. His tongue jutted out to wet his lips, dragging the bottom half back into his teeth while his lust-blown pupils trained directly on you. You truly hadn’t registered the god-like, sculpturesque muscles leading down his chest and over his rippling abs that finished in a very defined ‘V’ below the waistband of his briefs. The veins bulging in his arm and hand were enough to send you spiraling. Everything before you left you speechless. Wanting. Needing.

Bucky slid painstakingly slow hands over your hips, up your waist, your ribs, slipping curious fingers underneath the hem of your sports bra. He didn’t rip it off like you expected, however.

He looked at you. Really looked at you. “You–” his Adam’s apple bobbed, “y’know this’ll change everything. Right?”

You nodded, eager, confident. “Yeah. I– I know.”

“You wanna do this?” He tugged harder.

“Yes.” Another tug. Your tits begged for release.

“And you… got protection, er–” he hesitated, cocking a brow.

“Pill. I–I’m on the pill,” you breathlessly assured him. You added with a shrug, “I assume you didn’t bring any…”

He scoffed a laugh. “You weren’t exactly on my list of things t’do.”

“Well I hope I’m a top priority, now.”

“Number fuckin’ one.”

The elastic tore as he ripped the fabric, finally releasing your breasts from their constraint. Bucky discarded your ruined bra and turned back to you. His hands gravitated automatically to your chest, kneading, squeezing; thumbs and index fingers on both sides felt around for your nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, eliciting a squeal from you and another rush of arousal flooded your core.

Bucky hummed while locking his lips onto a pointed peak, mouthing and nipping and sucking. You mewled, running a hand up the back of his head and through his messy hair. His vibranium hand started downwards, sending your senses into overdrive as metal fingers teased the hem of your hipsters that met the crease in your thigh. He released your swollen nipple with a pop.

“Fuck you’re soaked, baby,” he moaned. Tugging your hipsters down your legs, he returned to leaning back on his hips. You’re breathless, panting, melting before him as he palms his thick erection. The girthy, leaking head poked over the waistband, aching to finally meet you. To feel you.

He stripped his briefs off, springing his cock free. You couldn’t tell if the uncontrollable moan that escaped from your lips was because of how mouth-watering he was or the thrilling worry that flooded your mind at the thought (and soon-to-be very real act) of fitting him– all of him– inside you. You glanced at him, catching the way his eyes darkened into something sinister, something hungry and uncontrollable. His jaw hardened as he pumped himself, leaking precum droplets onto your thighs.

“Get on your fuckin’ stomach,” he commanded. You obeyed, willing to do anything in your power to quell the iron-hot ache that made your pussy throb with want. The second your palms hit the mattress he grabbed you, hands bruising your love handles and ass as he yanked you back to him, shoving your face down into the pillows. With your cheek pressing into the mattress, face squishing into your elbow, all of the oxygen was pulled from your lungs. A beat of silence filled the void between you before a loud SMACK followed by a stinging pain radiating from your ass.

SMACK. “That was for the back talk.”

SMACK. “That was for scarin’ me t’night.”

SMACK. “And that was for makin’ me have to wait this long to fuck your stubborn ass.”

Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth and onto the sheets as you chewed your lip, trying (and failing) to dull the harsh, hot pain. Hands gripping your hips, bruising and rough, he yanked you back to meet his front. His cock jammed in between your cheeks as he grinded on you, kneading your ass to mold around him.

“You’re gonna take me,” he rasped, low and throaty. “All of me.”

You felt him line himself up with your entrance, his girthy head poking and prodding at your entrance. A beat. Hesitation from both of you before he finally snapped forward, plunging into you, filling you, stretching you wider than you could’ve imagined. Once inside, he paused, shifting inside you, cursing breathlessly at the perfect fit. You groaned and desperately shifted your hips in silent hope that Bucky would fucking move. The stretching, the fullness, everything gnawed at your insides that were begging for release. For pleasure.

“F-fuck Bucky, please–!” He slowly, painfully, rolled his hips in small, dragged-out thrusts before pulling out of you with the most self-control you’d ever see from him and jamming right back into you.

“Fuck! Again! Please, again!”

He obeyed you; his hips gradually began to pick up speed, thrusting erratically into you.

“Gimme your arm,” he gritted between hissed curses. Your brain was on a three-second delay between hearing him and when you started to twist; too slow for Bucky’s liking, he growled, bending– and, in turn, stuffing himself until his base scraped your ass– to grab your arm, pinning against your back with a stern hold. The pain, the pleasure, the all-of-it fanned the flames inside you, growing hotter and hotter and threatening to implode.

“‘M so close, baby, so–” he gasped, “Fuck, where do I–?”

“Back,” you answered, muffled against the sheets. “My back, I– ah!” You clenched around him, locking him in place as the implosion erupted within you. White-hot flashes of intense pleasure shot through your veins like a lethal shock. You screamed. You trembled. You felt the most all-consuming release rock you to your core, all while Bucky drilled into you harder, faster, his own coil on the brink of snapping. His hips began to stutter into you while you rode your high, mewling when it was time to pull from you in a hurry, his fist furiously pumping the last few seconds. A pleasured cry came from his body as hot ropes shot onto you, painting your skin in warm bursts, cum pooling where your spine arced. He groaned. Fist slowing in pumps, he fell onto the covers next to you in a heap as you cautiously lowered your back.

For a minute it was just your labored breathing echoing one another. The smell of sex lingered in the air, the distant sounds of the streets below and within the quiet building were muffled by the walls of the bedroom. It felt like forever before the bed shifted. Bucky stood, fumbling around on the ground for his discarded briefs. Kneeling back onto the bed, you flinched at the suddenly soft touch of fabric as he cleaned you up, wiping your skin until satisfied. He tossed the boxers back onto the ground somewhere unseen, rolling over back to his place next to you. You couldn’t help the smile on your lips, biting it back as you flipped over to look at Bucky, who was already staring at you with a soft smile.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged in response. “Looks like we both needed it.”

You nodded. “Does this mean ’m still sleeping on the fuckin’ couch?”

“Hm. No, I’ll let you off the hook,” he said, grabbing the covers and pulling them over you both.

“I think I like being off the hook better than being on it.”

“Mhmm, sure,” he hummed. The covers shrouded you as he placed a metal hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as he pulled you in for another electrifying kiss.

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cosmicveiined · 2 years

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I’m taking a step back from my laptop because I have a headache, but consider this an INBOX CALL!!

#☾ * ˚ ✦ i hoard cheese wheels in skyrim. ( ooc. )#please state which muse you want and other Multis please mention which muse of yours you want memes for

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

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heyy, how’re you? uh, idk how to do this cause it’s my first time lol, but could you do like, percy and reader banged for the first time (they were sworn enemies) and she wakes up in the morning with them cuddled and she panicks cause jason (his brother) is coming and he’ll totally freak out if he sees reader with percy and percy is just like “lol let it happen baby”? pls and tysm??

✮⋆˙ percy jackson x daughter of zeus! reader blurb

content: percy jackson x daughter of zeus! reader blurb warning: language author's note: cuties being sneaky, apparently is everyones fav trope lol. ALSO i got three jason x daughter of apollo request back to back so imma just mash them together, it was crazy it was within like a 20 minute span that i got all of them.

"percy, jason's gonna be here any minute," you whined, trying to shove him off you so you can escape from his arms. percy smiled, sleepily, and just tightened his hold like a damn boa constrictor.

"and?"

"anddddd he's gonna beat your ass- let go, you guppy!" you insisted, but you lost all your false pretenses of anger due to the giggles falling from your lips. percy didn't budge, just nuzzling closer to you, pressing feather soft kisses to your bare shoulder and steadily making his way to your neck.

"please, i can totally take jason in a fight," argued percy, his words getting muffled by your skin and hair.

"yeah, if he's half-asleep and missing an arm. but you're gonna piss him off, which means you definitely won't win-" you stated, huffing as you managed to finally escape his hold, but with the effort that you put in, it send you falling off the bed and hitting the floor of cabin one with a thud and a 'ouch!'

"you okay, baby?" percy questioned, instantly, leaning over the edge of the bed and looking down at you. worry was evident on his face, but so was a smirk.

"yeah-"

"baby?" jason questioned from the doorway, which he was leaning against with his arms crossed. both you and percy looked over, you twisting around on your stomach and looking at your brother with a panicked look and forced smile.

"hey, jason," percy smirked, waving his hand and beaming a cheesy smile at the man. jason's eye twitched and percy's hair started standing up from the electricity in the air.

"you should probably start running," you told percy, who just stretched out on your bed and crossed his arms behind his head and cuddled further into the bed.

"nah."

"your funeral," you mused, gathering yourself off the ground and patting jason's arm as he passed towards percy.

"i'm getting breakfast. tussle outside, please, not on my bed."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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Object of Delight (3/3)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, domination, swearing, postpartum depression ]

[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. Despite his initial reluctance, a bond develops between him and his wife that he cannot understand or comprehend. In this chapter I combine several requests into one. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Epilogue

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The frequency and fervour with which he fucked his wife caused it to be less than three moons before the measter brought him the joyful news during one of his sparring sessions with Ser Criston, informing him that she was expecting his child.

He explained that he had been summoned by one of her servants when she suddenly fainted, and as it turned out, the cause of her indisposition was his inheritance in her womb.

He couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction and the amused look he threw Cole, for here it appeared that, in fact, her deceased husband had simply failed to perform his duty well − his seed was weak and his lineage would be forgotten.

Although he was buzzing with curiosity and desire to see her now, to take her in this blessed state, he decided not to show his weakness and make it to the end of his training following his daily routine, heading to her chamber immediately after taking a quick bath.

His long white hair was still a little damp when he crossed the threshold of her quarters − the door closed quietly behind him, and he looked at her sleeping figure lying on her bed, covered in thick furs. He hummed, walking slowly closer, recognising that she had made the right decision to rest − in her current state she needed to look out for herself more than before.

He stood over her in silence for a moment, fighting the burning desire to touch her face, to take an unruly strand from her cheek, but hesitated.

He only made gestures that someone might call affectionate after their intense closeness, when she slept snuggled against his naked chest, her hand on which she wore a golden ring in the shape of a sun with a sapphire eye, his gift to her, proof that she was capable of pleasing him both in and out of bed, rested on his heart.

He stroked her soft, smooth hair then, her bare shoulder, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, musing. The fact that she spent the nights with him became natural to them − he did not summon her and she did not wait for his permission, following him to his quarters immediately after supper. They didn't speak much, didn't confide their secrets to each other, instead getting to know each other's bodies intimately.

They were able to lie on their sides in the dark for hours satisfying and teasing each other with their mouths without giving each other fulfilment. He enjoyed watching out of the corner of his eye, trailing his lips over her hot, leaking womanhood as his wife sucked unhurriedly on his cock, licking and teasing it with her pink tongue, her caresses gentle and tender, making his fingers involuntarily clench tighter on the naked skin of her hips right next to his face.

There was something liberating to him in the fact that she did not require him to make confessions or sacrifice his regular daily life; although it had always seemed to him that a wife was merely an extension of her husband and his shadow, she preferred to remain a separate entity and he chose not to overuse the power he had over her, not finding it necessary.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes opened lazily − she smiled barely visible, softly, perhaps even warmly at the sight of him.

"Are you trying to scare me?" She muttered, turning only to sink deeper into the soft bedding, looking at him calmly, her eyes bright, her face smooth, without a trace of a grimace.

He snorted, amused, turning his head away for a moment only to look at her again, sighing heavily − even though he tried to keep a grave face he knew she had noticed his contentment with the news that had reached him.

"I have been informed that you are carrying my son in your womb." He hummed low, deeply − she blinked, smiling wider.

"I don't know if it will be a son." She replied softly, and he hummed again; she shifted back as he walked closer to her bed and lay on his side, his face turned towards her, laying his head on the pillow right next to hers. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, feeling that although neither of them used words, this was a day of their shared joy, for here was the fruit of their efforts.

He raised his large hand at the thought, unable to contain himself − his fingers took a strand of her black hair and flicked it over her back with a light gesture. She smiled wider, knowing that he couldn't stand it when something covered her face.

Her eyes.

Taking advantage of the fact that he had already touched her, he involuntarily ran his thumb over her soft, plump cheek. He saw that she had closed her eyes, sighing quietly, his gaze focused on her long, dark lashes. His fingers tightened around her neck, drawing her to him and she purred loudly as his swollen lips pressed against hers in a wet, loud, hot kiss.

He pulled away from her with a quiet click, but her lips ran invitingly over his, telling him that she craved more, so he sank into their fleshy texture again, slipping the tip of his tongue between them, a sweet, innocent moan came from her throat causing his cock to throb impatiently in his breeches.

He took her more gently than usual, rocking his hips lazily deep inside her, each time the tip of his swollen manhood rubbing the spot between her muscles, from which a shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body, her fingers tightening on his muscular shoulders, her body beginning to meet his, wordlessly letting him know that he could accelerate his pace.

Her short, slender fingernails dug into the bare skin of his firm buttocks as he began to thrust into her more aggressively, wanting him to do it even harder − he stroked her cheek as she began to babble, asking, begging him to give her what she needed.

"− we need to be more careful now because of the baby − I know, I know you need it, shhh −" He hushed her, closing her mouth with his own, his hands gripped her thighs, with sure, deep thrusts pounding into her at an angle that he knew gave her the greatest pleasure − she arched her back with a sweet moan as his thumb began to tease her bud with circular, intense strokes, her walls began to squeeze him, soaking him all over in her moisture.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled pleadingly, in the way he adored most − he looked down at her panting loudly, resting his free hand on the bed frame in front of him, thrusting into her again and again with the sticky splat of his thighs against her buttocks, his cock throbbing hard, demanding fulfilment.

"− I know − I'll lick you good tonight and slap those buttocks a little − sounds good, hm? −" He gasped, looking at her with affection from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. She nodded her head quickly and cried out − he felt her muscles clench at the very thought, sucking him inside, her cheeks red from exertion and desire, her swollen, full lips parted wide, her hands trailing over his hot flesh.

"− yes − please − fuck me good − o-oh gods −" She mewled sweetly as her body shook with eager, overpowering fulfilment − she tilted her head back, writhing beneath him, her weeping cunt began to clench on him greedily, intensifying his pleasure.

"− good girl −" He exhaled wearily as with a few desperate, sloppy thrusts he came inside her with a loud sigh of relief, looking at her in disbelief.

The woman who had given him what he craved.

"− you did so well for me −" He whispered, leaning over her, being careful not to crush her with his body, sinking his nose into her soft cheek. She wrapped her hands around his waist, stroking his back, making a shiver run along his spine every time her fingers brushed over his hot, sweaty skin.

She knew there was a deeper meaning to what he said and that it didn't just refer to their intense closeness.

Her abdomen swelling from his inheritance was his reason for being proud − his hand lay on it and stroked it involuntarily during the evenings or mornings she spent in his company.

As she lay naked beside him at night, sweaty and welted from what he had done to her, her cunt all puffy and sore from the caresses of his tongue, he hugged his face to her womb, smiling involuntarily when he sometimes managed to feel the movement of the little dragon that was growing inside her.

Despite the maester's recommendation that they should not cohabit with each other when she was in such advanced pregnancy and their strenuous attempts to confine themselves to the use of their mouths alone, as she lay beside him, cuddled with her back to his chest, his manhood swelled involuntarily, slapping against her buttocks.

She would then spread her thighs invitingly, teasing him with the strokes of her hips, tilting her head back, whispering how wet she was, and he, impatiently lifted her higher, forcing the fat head of his cock with their sigh of relief into her tight, throbbing opening, and although they knew they should do it slowly, they fucked each other rough.

"− can't you last a few fucking days without my cock? − isn't it enough that you came on my face tonight? −" He exhaled, listening as his thighs slapped fast against her buttocks with loud smacks, his manhood thrusting into her with ease, her insides slick with her juices, his fingers between her thighs, their tips playing with her clit, not letting her escape.

"− I came having your cock deep inside my mouth − have you forgotten already? −" She gasped and he groaned low at the thought, quickening his pace, clamping his hand around her neck so as not to make it difficult for her to breathe and accidentally hurt the baby − he hid his face in her hair, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to another fulfilment.

"− no − that's not something you can forget − fuck −" He muttered, feeling her sticky walls begin to suck him inside in orgasm, her moisture spilling over his thighs, her moans making him let go, letting his hot seed spill inside her.

"− gods, so good − I can't stop −" He mumbled, and she sighed heavily, moving with him for a moment longer, stroking his arm that embraced her swollen abdomen.

"− me too −"

On the day of the delivery he was restless, pacing around his chamber, full of tension, unable to sit still. She felt the first contractions in the morning and collapsed as her servants helped her dress, whimpering, terrified that it had begun.

He consoled himself with the thought that her mother, the Queen and his sister were with her, that she was not alone, but he could not stop thinking about Aemma, her grandfather's sister and his father's first wife, how she had died and that, although he tried to push the vision away, the birth could prove complicated.

He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, unwittingly seeing in his mind her pale, lifeless body, her empty violet eyes, her cheeks drenched in tears, her nightgown soaked in blood at the height of her thighs.

He groaned lowly, trying to calm down, repeating to himself that this would not happen, that she was not Aemma and he was not his father.

Hours passed, however, and he still hadn't received any news of her condition − he felt like he was dying inside, for some reason he wanted to weep with despair.

He saw himself with his hands placed deep in the fire of his fireplace, holding his dragon egg, clenching his lips in pain, begging the gods for it to crack.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, rising to his feet as the maester stepped inside his chamber, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that his hands were all dirty in blood.

"Your Grace. You have a son." He said in a trembling voice, and he looked at him dully, as if he did not understand what he had said.

"What about my wife?"

He moved immediately to her chamber when he learned that she had endured the birth very badly, that there was no contact with her, that she had a fever.

That she might not survive.

He didn't even look at the wailing child in his Queen's arms − he walked immediately to the bed where her mother was sobbing, stroking her hands.

She looked exactly as in his vision, pale, her gaze blank, directed somewhere far away, her chemise all red with blood − if it weren't for the fact that her breast was rising and falling in shallow breaths he would have thought she was dead.

"− Your Grace, you shouldn't −" He heard the voice of one of the ladies of the court, but he just stood there looking at her with his lips pressed together, feeling a squeeze in his throat and chest so strong that he had the impression that his whole body had begun to tremble.

He involuntarily moved towards her, climbing onto the bed, leaning on his knees, his trembling hand touched her hot, sweaty cheek, all wet with tears.

"− my love − my love, speak to me −" He whispered, but she didn't even look at him − she only twitched, one last, lonely tear flowed from the corner of her eye.

Something about the sight broke him − he pressed his forehead to her temple, panting hard, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.

"− don't leave me − don't leave me alone in this world −"

He didn't know if his words had reached her, her fever intensified by the night he had spent by her side with her mother. He sat in a chair watching as she washed her face, already dressed in a clean, snow-white undershirt, covered by thick layers of furs, her body quivering all over, sunk in a deep, restless sleep.

"− I thought the worst was behind her − after that bastard −" She began, but pressed her lips together, as if unable to get it out of her − he looked at her anxiously, feeling his whole body tense up.

She had never told him about her first husband.

Nor had he ever asked about it, not even wanting to recall that another man had had her before him.

"− was he not a good husband? −" He asked impassively − Lady Arryn looked up at him with big eyes, her eyebrows arched in despair and anger at the same time.

Her hair were as dark as his wife's, but her irises were golden and bright, shining in the candlelight around them.

She swallowed loudly, her chin trembling all over, as if she couldn't get it out of her.

"− I − I didn't find out until a year later − that when it turned out she was bleeding, that she wasn't carrying his child − every month he made her sleep in godswood, in just her nightgown − h-he said − gods, he said that until she gave him an heir, she was like his sword, his book, or his horse − her servants took pity on her and when he fell asleep, they would take her to their chambers beneath the stronghold −" She muttered, tears of grief and bitterness running down her face. He looked at her dully, feeling as if he was about to vomit, his stomach painfully clenched − he ran his trembling hand over his face, hearing her words during their wedding night inside his head.

A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, feeling a burning wetness under his eyelids that he did not let flow.

Her silhouette lying under the weirwood tree, then, as he followed her.

He thought she stopped visiting this place when it became apparent that she was expecting his child because walking such long distances began to be difficult for her.

"− my husband did the right thing − he deserved it −" She exclaimed, and he didn't speak again, knowing what she meant.

He only breathed a sigh of relief the next day when her fever had diminished and she was still breathing. She would wake up and only babble, her mother would feed her and help her dress, and he would just be beside her, overseeing everything, wanting to make sure nothing escaped his attention.

He knew that his son was in the care of his mother and sister.

As she began to regain consciousness, it was decided to introduce their son to her − one of the wet nurses, a plump woman with a wide smile brought in her arms an infant with his white hair and her mother's golden eyes. He smiled involuntarily at the sight, hoping that the appearance of her child would give her strength.

"Look, my Lady. It's your little boy. Would you like to feed him?" The woman asked softly, but his wife merely looked away, tense, staring out of the window, her fingers clenched on the thick fur that covered her. He pressed his lips together at the sight, feeling that something was happening deep inside her, that something had taken place during the birth that had broken her.

She did not want to look at the baby, touch it or feed it − she only expressed in a weak voice her satisfaction that their child was healthy.

Her mother tried to persuade her to at least take her son in her arms, that she would then immediately feel maternal love and attachment, but she shook her head quickly, tears running down her face as if she didn't even want to imagine it.

"− Your Grace, I'm afraid a heavy birth has caused your wife to lose her senses, she is rejecting her own child − I believe that at this point she is dangerous to Your Highness' son and should be left alone for a while to calm down −" The maester told him as he left her chamber to change and refresh himself, his lips tightened into a thin line at his words.

"− weigh your words − my wife is suffering, and you are to find the cause of it −" He hissed, furious, the man swallowed hard and nodded, not speaking again.

When he returned to her quarters, he noticed to his surprise that her bed was empty, her mother asleep in her chair, tired, no one else around.

He went outside in a panic, wondering where she could have gone, heading towards the godswood, however, he froze in a half-step walking down the corridor when he noticed that the door to the chamber his son slept in was ajar.

He walked slowly inside and stopped, noticing her silhouette sitting next to the cradle, looking blankly at the sleeping infant, her face indifferent and expressionless. She lifted her gaze to him at last, as if snapped out of her reverie, her eyebrows arched in pain, her fingers clenched on the fabric of her nightgown.

"What's going to happen to me now?" She muttered in a trembling voice and he shook his head, not understanding what she was asking.

"I do not follow." He replied; she lowered her gaze, her lower lip quivered, tears ran down her cheeks − she seemed to have fallen into some kind of state of panic.

"Now that I've given you a son. What are you going to do with me? Will you pretend I don't exist? Will you find yourself a lover?"

He stared at her stunned, feeling the quick pounding of his heart and the squeeze in his throat, horrified at the direction her thoughts were taking.

"Where did those words come from?" He asked in disbelief, feeling that he was struggling to breathe, his hands clenched into fists.

She hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, bursting into a loud sobs as if something inside her had cracked.

"I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't." She squirmed, drawing in air loudly − he moved towards her, kneeling in front of her, pressing her face to his chest.

"Calm down. Please." He whispered, her fingers clenching tightly on the material of his green tunic in a helpless gesture of despair.

"I am worn out. I'm a worn-out, empty vessel. There's nothing more I can give you." She whimpered, and he clamped his eyelids shut, pulling her close. Her body fell to the ground right beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, cuddling her into himself like a small child, stroking her soft dark hair reassuringly.

"You are my wife. I will never betray you or our family. We can wait with begetting another child until you are ready. After all, we have our ways of doing that, don't we?" He asked in a soft, trembling voice, trying to comfort her, to let her understand that nothing was over, but on the contrary, in his eyes, it had only just begun.

"I've been contemplating for some time that I should take you in front of that guard who looks at you so shamelessly when you're wearing gowns of thinner material. When your breasts are visible through it. That would give him something to think about, hm? And the most important thing. Vhagar. The mother of my child must know what it means to ride a dragon." He hummed into her ear, playing with strands of her hair, feeling her shiver at his words, that she was returning to him, her body no longer trembling, her breathing calming.

"I thought I'd already ridden the world's greatest dragon." She whispered, and he involuntarily smirked and snorted, kissing her hair.

"Not like this."

They stayed like that for a while in each other's embrace, sitting on the floor, stroking each other's cheeks, shoulders and hair, for the first time so close, so tender, so sincere. They shuddered when they heard sobbing and whimpering coming from the cradle − they both rose and he turned his head, calling the guard, telling them to bring a nursemaid.

"No." She said softly, coming closer, leaning over the cradle, taking their son into her arms. She embraced him and began rocking him, shushing him reassuringly as she looked at his face.

"− hello, little one − I know − it's not your fault −" She muttered with difficulty, tears in her eyes − he looked at this sight with a squeezed throat and swallowed heavily.

"− come here − are you hungry? −" She asked, sitting down on the window sill, slipping the material of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing her breast, all swollen, full of milk − he felt his manhood throb involuntarily in his breeches at this sight.

She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as their son, nestled against her breast, found her nipple and, in a natural, subconscious instinct, began to suck on it greedily, clamping his small hand over her skin.

She looked at their child with curiosity and some kind of warmth that moved him.

He approached her, leaning over her, kissing the top of her head, sinking his nose into her soft hair, looking out of the corner of his eye at this almost mythological sight of a woman feeding her offspring.

"− what did you name our son? −" She asked quietly, and he felt hot in his chest hearing her use the word our.

"− I waited with this decision for you − you are his mother −" He replied softly, taking an unruly strand of her hair from her face. She mused, looking at the infant suckled to her breast and smiled softly.

"− Jaehaerys −" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that they had thought of the same thing.

Of their common ancestor.

"− so Jaehaerys it will be −"

477 notes · View notes

minhosimthings · 5 months

Text

Chocolate Sauce

Synopsis: In which you lick Jake's abs and leave a very angry Jake with hickeys on his stomach

Pairings: Bf!idol!Jake × fem!idol!reader

Warnings: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering, reader licks Jake's abs, oral (f and m), overstimulation, rough sex, mean dom Jake, sub reader, swearing, mention of food, choking, angry sex (meow)

A/N: GUESS WHO DROOLED WHILE WATCHING JAKE DO THE GUILTY CHALLENGE. THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE. So blame Jake not me because bitch had to do that shit on my period. I wanna touch those abs so bad it's actually so bad I hate myself. Anyways, enjoy this shitpost y'all peace.

Sim Jaeyun never failed to amaze you. Even as your boyfriend of three years, about whom you knew probably everything about, he always was succesful in pissing you off, or worse, riling you up. And sometimes when both of the phenomenons happened at the same time, it was a time of bliss for Jake.

"What the fuck Jayeun?" You threw your head back to look at your boyfriend, on whose thigh you were currently sleeping. He looked handsome as ever, hair all messy and fluffy, with the usual grin imprinted on his face. "What happened baby?" He pouted as you got up from his thigh and sat in front of him. "Please tell me I did not just see you acting like a whore on stage right now on my for you page." Jake turned his head sideways, an adorable thing he did when he was confused, and peeked into your phone. A devilish smirk formed on his face as he saw what was causing your current state of distress. "Oh that?" He mused, leaning back against the bedframe, "Yeah I did the Guilty challenge. Pretty good right? You know, Riki was saying my dancing impro-" "I don't give a fuck about the dancing Sim Jayeun." You cut him off, eyes faltering at the way he was looking at you, "I'm talking about the way you literally just showed your abs to every fucking person in that room."

To say that you were jealous was an understatement. Of course Jake had officially taken a pledge that he would never show his abs to anyone except you. And you remembered that the pledge also included not showing it to engenes.

"Aww." Jake cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning into your chest, "Is my girl jealous?" Resisting the urge to kiss his strawberry lips, you decided to pick up your phone and scroll through your reels, completely ignoring your boyfriend.

"Come on baby-" Jake smirked, leaning closer to your face, "-you know you can't resist me for more than five minutes." His last words were finished in almost a rough whisper, which knocked you off your wind. "I'll forgive you if you do one thing for me." You finally responded, sitting up straight and crossing your arms. "Order away, princess." Jake cocked his head to the left, smirk ever omnipresent on his stupidly handsome face.

"Let me lick your abs."

You didn't know whether it was out of pure shock, or pure embarrassment that Jake choked on air, but he did and accidentally smacked you in the head. "Jake!" You rubbed the back of your head with your hand. "You wanna do what now?" He spoke in a unusually grave voice, looking at you with bedroom eyes.

"Sim Jayeun I think I said it clear enough." You scoffed, "I want to lick your abs. If you don't wanna do it, that's fine I guess." You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back against the bedframe, getting back to your phone. "Alright then." Jake got up swiftly from the bed, and moved out of the room, walking a pace faster than usual. You tried not to think much about it, as you scrolled through the reels again, your fingers distracting you from wherever Jake was, until you heard the sound of your fridge bang close.

"Jake what are you doing?" You quizzed as Jake walked in, a bottle held tightly in his hands. He plummeted down next to you on the bed, and leaned in, giving you a tiny peck on the cheek. "Here." He nudged the bottle into your hand, forcing you to drop your phone into your lap, which he immediately took and hid in the bedside drawer. "Jaeyun!" You reached for your phone, trying to climb over him, "Give me my phone back." "Not until you read the label of that bottle baby."

You rolled your eyes and took the bottle in your eyes, peering to read the lable written in big glittery letters. "Chocolate Sauce?" You sniggered, "What the fuck do you want me to do with it?"

"Well I figured-" Jake popped open the cap of the bottle, "-since it's not pancake season and you don't use it for anything, why don't you lick it off of my abs?"

Your eyes widened at Jake, as he leaned back further, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt. For perhaps the first time in the entire evening, you noticed how truly scrumptious Jake looked in messy hair. "Jak-" "oh come on princess." Jake leaned closer to your ear, "I know you want to do it so bad like the slut you are."

His rough voice made your legs shiver. Jake had unbuttoned his shirt already, giving you a full display of his carved chest and abs. You held out a hand to stroke it, but Jake was quick to grab it with his. "Not until you lick them baby." He let go of your hand, "Are you scared princess?"

You meekly shook your head, and removed your shirt faster than Jake could blink an eyes. He slid a hand behind to your back, fingers searching to unclasp your bra. "Or should we leave it on?" Jake removed his hand from scratching your upper back, "I wanna see those nice tits bounce around in that cute little fabric which isn't hiding shit by the way." He leaned over to kiss your cheek again, "You could have asked for something new you know. Would have loved to buy you something in pink."

You took the open Hershey's bottle in your hand, and took a deep breath before turning it upside down and letting the gooey liquid come out, drizzling over Jake's abs. Jake let out a wince as it touched his skin, probably from the cold temp of the sauce. Anything for his princess though, he thought, enduring the cold grip.

"It doesn't hurt does it?" You spoke, uncertainty grazing your tone, "Maybe I should get-" "shh princess." Jake cooed at you, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek with his thumb, "Just lick them nothing hurts." His strict tone made you falter again, as you licked your lips, leaning over his body as he settled himself in the bed.

You moved towards his abs, taking in how beautiful they looked under the brown sauce. Lowering your tongue to them, you glanced up at Jake. His eyes were closed, and his eyelids were barely moving. As dead as a fish, you thought.

"Ooh princess-" Jake let out a moan, as your tongue touched his abs. You didn't know if it was the fact that the it was probably expired, or the fact that you were licking it off of Jake's belly, but man did the sauce taste good. You really didn't have a taste for sweet things, preferring your coffee bitter and your waffles without honey. But oh god, did sugar taste good when you were licking it off of Jake's belly, your tongue dying to have a taste of his cock.

"Mm-babe-ah fuck." Jake moaned, his voice grasping for more as he traced your hair with his fingers, unconsciously gripping them harder. Your tongue moved swiftly across the board of Jake's tummy, your fingers digging into the sides of his abdomen, desperately searching for more. You could feel the bulge in Jake's pants, rubbing against your belly as you leaned further in, mouth almost begging to have a taste of your favourite poison A thin line of sweat decorated your brow, as you closed your eyes, sinking into Jake's muttered words. "Mine. All mine." He mumbled in between sweet moans. Drunk on the feathery touch of your tongue on his skin, as it moved slowly, licking up all the sticky sweet substance, he didn't even notice that he was pressing your head further and further down. "J-Jake." "Shut up and go suck my cock right now." He commanded, making you whimper as you wiped off the chocolate from your mouth. You had never seen Jake like this before, eyes akin to a wolf filled with desperate hunger.

You quickly unbuttoned Jake's pants, hands fumbling as you did, while he looked on at your figure, all trembling. He loved seeing you like this, like a lamb going off to the slaughter house. It heightened his ego greatly, seeing his princess be so obedient towards him.

You pull his jeans down and mouth at his clothed dick. You began to suck the tip and run your tongue over the slit. You loved the taste of him in your mouth. He was heavy and warm. "Fuck your mouth feels so good." Jake moaned out, his hand resting on the top of your head. You take more into your mouth and you deep throat him. He touched the back of your throat before you looked at him to start fucking your face. He pulls out before slamming back in. He does this a few times as you sputter around him. You weren't expecting him to be so hard to take as he fucked your throat. He moved against your mouth as you sucked him for everything he had. You wanted him to cum in your mouth. He pressed deeper in your throat as you gripped his thighs in hopes of him letting up.

"Fucking hell, you are such a slut." Jake chuckles as he pulls out, to see your mouth coated in his cum. "Just for you." You pant, wiping your mouth with the towel Jake handed you. "Hmm" Jake groaned, moving slightly to make space for you to rest in his arms. "...'m love you princess." He mumbled as you drifted off into sleep.

"L/N Y/N you are in big trouble." Jake's puppy eyes appeared on the screen of your phone, as you picked up the call. "You know usually people greet their partners with a 'hey babe' or a 'i love you till death'." You giggled, moving on with your laundry. Thank god it was the holidays and your members weren't there to annoy you about Jake, you thought as you slammed the washing machine door close and returned to your boyfriend's angry face. "Y/N I swear to God-" Jake sighed, plopping into a chair, "Do you know how much my stylist scolded me today? And do you wanna know the reason why?" Although you already knew what was going to come out of Jake's mouth, you decided to play innocent, wanting to make him more angry. You did always love when he was angry.

"Why baby?" You pouted, widening your eyes and setting your phone down on the table, at a mischievous angle. "You know why princess." Jake's angry tone came through again, "For all the marks you left on my stomach yesterday? They wanted to put me in a crop top today like all the members but instead, because of you, I had to stay in a fucking jacket." "Hmm" you shrugged your shoulders, "sad." You spoke, before cutting the call abruptly. You giggled in response to nobody's joke as you hopped off of the kitchen counter and opened up the fridge to find something to eat, waiting eagerly for Jake to get back home.

Anger was an emotion which was a rarity for Jake. Even when he did get angry, it would usually be playful anger, with Niki or Jay. But somehow you managed to piss him off to his guts, and as he rode in the car, with Sunghoon side eyeing his furrowed face, he thought of all the ways he could punish you as soon as he got home and layed his hands on your body.

"Ah fuck it." You curse as you burn your toast, having left it on the stove for too long. You had wasted a lot of time admiring yourself in front of the mirror, tracing your eyes over the pretty bra you wore, one of Jake's favourites. And now, as you silently waited for your boyfriend to come home, fumbling with the straps of your bra, you wondered what he was going to do to you.

The keyhole clicked twice at the sound of a key being pushed in. You barely had time to get any words out of your mouth as Jake can stomping in, a dark expression clouding his face. There was little time to brace yourself for Jake's next move. You're pressed against the wall before you can protest, although you wouldn’t dare object to this.

“You love when I make you feel good, don’t you baby? Who’s my good girl?” And that’s what did it for you, your eyes rolled back and you tightened around his fingers, but Jake wasn’t taking just that response this evening. He put his fingers in your mouth, and he asked again with raised eyebrows, “What was that? Who’s my good girl?” His fingers lingered down to your throat, applying just enough pressure so that you could still talk. “Yours, only yours” you replied. He nibbled your ear, smirk still prevalent on his face. He whispered in your ear once more,

Jake grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wedging your hips with his own, keeping you steady. A new hardness presses against your core as he juts his hips into you, pure instinct taking over his movements. His cock twitches in his jeans - he needs to watch his cock sink into you, to watch your face contort in bliss when he bottoms out in your pussy. The friction on your swelling clit was rough and warm, with Jake's cock perfectly nestled atop your drenched slit. Each rough push shot pleasure through your core, but it wasn’t enough for your aching cunt.

He moves the two of you to the couch and putting you on your hands and knees before pulling your pants down. He played with your thong before pulling them off too. His tongue goes straight into your little hole which causes you to scream. He tongue fucks you for a little bit before moving up to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth which has you pushing back on his mouth. Jake continues until you are almost there but he stops.

"No-Jake." You whine, jutting out your bottom lip. "You don't get to fucking cum until I say so, got it?" Jake growls, making you whimper and sink into the couch.

He presses his cock to your hole and presses inside. The stretch felt like it would never end. As he pressed in, you felt full already and he was not even half way in. You moan as Jake whispers about you being his whore and that he isn't going to let you go. He keeps fucking up into you with fever and the only thing you could do was to take it. You had no choice with how good he was fucking you.

"Oh, fuck yes," he groaned, totally entranced by the way your pussy warped with his size, swallowing his cock into your soft walls. He bucked his hips on instinct and struck you deeper. You cried softly against your hand, trying to quiet yourself when the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix.

With another set of thrusts you became undone around him, clenching down onto Jake's cock, letting out a high-pitched moan as your orgasm flowed through you. Jake hissed through his teeth at the warm, fluttering sensation, satisfied at your soft moans falling out of your slacked mouth.

"Attagirl, just keep goin'," Jake said sweetly, pulling and pushing your hips in the same rhythm as before. The overstimulation took you over and left you whimpering, sending soft pleas of slow down, it's too much, to your boyfriend.

Your sweet pussy clenched around him and he rubbed your clit as he bounced you up and down on his dick. You got closer and closer before you climaxed. It felt as if you were drowning. You could only scream as Sam doubled his efforts and you orgasmed again. "Jake please-I"

"One more princess, just one more," he says before thrusting harder. He thrusts one last time before spilling into you. His orgasm triggered yours and you squirted a lot onto his lap. He looked down and smiled at his achievement.

"You look so fucking hot right now," He said as he kissed your neck again. "Jake, I don't think I can go another round." "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you can." He said before circling your clit.

You arch your back as his fingers slip inside of you, along side his dick. He pulled out but left his fingers in. He played with the cum inside as he fucked you with his fingers. He wanted you to cum one last time. It didn't take long before you did and almost fainted in his arms.

Jake swooped you up carefully in his arms, and carried you to the bedroom, where he cleaned you up with a towel, before settling in beside you. You crawled upto him, wrapping your arms around his waist, stroking his abs, as you listened to his heartbeat.

"I'm sorry about the hickeys." You mumbled into his chest, too ashamed to show your face. Jake smiled warmly and stroked your hair, a complete contrast to what he was minutes ago. "it's alright." He kissed the top of your forehead, "Let's not pretend like I never gave you hickeys right before your Inkigayo stages." You chuckled weakly to his words, and buried yourself under the blankets, with the taste of chocolate forever lingering in your mouth.

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misctf · 4 months

Text

Selection Day

“Mr. Wagner, this is an impressive application.” The man mused, “Graduated college last year with a 4.0 GPA in biology. I see you completed prep courses to become a physician.”

James Wagner nodded, “That would be ideal.”

His father promised he’d have nothing to worry about on Selection Day, which occurred during the month of one’s 23rd birthday. Judges reviewed your file: extracurriculars, criminal record, education, etc., to determine the perfect career for you- and give you all the tools to succeed.

“I see here your father is Senator Wagner and your mother is Dr. Wagner, both distinguished in their fields. Quite a tough election year though.”

“Dad isn’t too worried though. His campaign manager says he has a plan.” James leaned back in his chair, “Already planning the victory party.”

“You should celebrate too. I think you’ll be perf...” The judge’s phone rang, cutting him off, “Excuse me Mr. Wagner, I have to take this.”

The judge left James to himself. The young man sighed in relief, despite some growing anticipation. When his brother went through the process, they didn’t change too much. They enhanced his attractive features and gave him a greater sense of ambition- all fitting for his career in finance. But he was still his brother. James hoped for something similar. He knew his application would let him select from “tier A models” so he was feeling good. And afterwards, he and his dad would go golfing and get dinner down at the country club to celebrate.

“Mr. Wagner, come with me” The judge said as he returned to the room.

James nodded, “Uh by the way, I was hoping to go with a Tier A physician model...”

“No worries James, just follow me please.”

James followed closely entering a room filled with various pods. A knot formed in his stomach. This is where it would happen. He gulped and watched as the judge walked towards a pod and pressed some buttons. This was it. Calmly, James undid his button shirt, revealing his lean and tanned body. Years of track and caddying on the golf course gave him a nice tan and lean physique. As he finished undressing, his attention shifted to the pod as it whirred to life and opened.

“Here it goes.” He whispered.

The young man stepped into the pod and watched the door shut. A small window allowed him to see the outside world and he nodded at the judge, who frowned in return. And then it started. The mechanical hands that lay dormant suddenly came to life, scanning James’s body.

“Applicant: James Wagner.” A soothing mechanical voice stated, before rattling off demographics that James simply tuned out, “Model: Gym Staff, Front Desk, Tier D.”

“Wait what?” James called out, “Hey! I think somethings wrong.” He tried to convey, “That’s not...”

He barely had a moment to speak as a metallic substance wrapped around his legs. He cried out as it burned his skin. And slowly, his legs began to expand, filling with raw muscle. His slender calves popped with muscle, while his 10.5 inch feet expanded to size 13. He held back tears as his thighs expanded with firm muscle. And then, his lower extremities were freed.

“Holy fuck!” He shouted, as he wriggled his new toes, “Please, I think there’s been some kind of mistake!” The judge wasn’t paying attention anymore, just talking to someone on the phone.

Before he could continue, a saddle emerged from underneath him and wrapped around his ass and cock. A gentle warmth encompassed them, causing James to shudder. But as he focused on the sensation, more of the substance covered his chest and torso. Similar to his legs, he felt an intense warming sensation. And as the warmth intensified, he felt himself growing. He watched as a strong core and bounceable pecs formed from his once lean physique and groaned as his torso stretched, adding height. But it wasn’t just height. He was becoming wider as his back expanded with muscle. When the mold finally released him, he was left with a physique he could only dream of obtaining naturally. But this wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to be a hulking beast of a man.

“You need to...” James started to cough as a green haze entered the pod, “What... fuck... bro please...” He kept coughing, barely noticing his use of the word “bro” and his deepening voice, “Dude, this ain’t cool!”

He watched as his arms were encased. Biceps and triceps exploded from his lean arms, while his forearms grew with muscle. When his arms were released, he could gawk at them in awe.

“Dude, check it out, my guns are lookin' massive!” James’s eyes widened, “Dude, why do I sound all weird? Not stoked about it, man!” Try as he might, he couldn’t control the new bro lingo that left his mouth.

And before he could say another word, a mask wrapped around his face and neck. He cried as his face was remodeled. Simultaneously, personal details were added to his physique. Tattoos of some meaning to James were carved into his body. Meanwhile, he was sprayed with a different solution that caused hair to sprout from his abdomen and chest, eventually thickening and forming a dense treasure trail. His arms and legs were not spared, nor were his ass or dick. And with a mechanical screech, the mask finally left his face. His new eyes were dark, topped by thick dark eyebrows. His light brown hair replaced with darker brown. His clean shaven face now adorned with stubble. And his angular face just a bit rounder, with a pair of thick lips. The young man felt his new face and rubbed a hand across his hairy pecs.

“Seriously, dude? No way!” He grumbled, ““Dude, I'm not a bro, change me back, seriously!” James felt tears well up in his eyes. This wasn’t him, he didn’t sound like this. He still had his intelligence, but no one would take him seriously.

But his thoughts were interrupted as the his privates were freed. James’s eyes widened. His dick was never that big, nor did he have foreskin before. He watched in awe as it started expanding and he wrapped his hand around it.

“Whoa, bro, check out the size of that thing!” He started pumping his new cock, “Bro, this is epic! It feels so damn good!” A new mist filled the pod as he continued to jerk off, causing James to scrunch his nose, “Dude, it totally reeks in here, like a locker room or something.” From this point on, that smell would stick to him. He’d always smell like a dirty locker room.

However this did little to deter him as he jerked off. And as he did so, he felt a quick jab in his arm as the contents of a syringe were dumped into him.

“Dude, my head's all fuzzy right now, it's weird.” He moaned as his IQ plummeted and new knowledge filled his brain, “Heh, check this out, dude.” He moaned as he bounced his pecs, “Dude, wait, my brain's acting up. I'm, like, still smart, yeah?” James tried to remember facts that he once memorized but found nothing. His golf skills replaced by workout routines, his adherence to social norms evaporating, and his desire to present himself well replaced with a need to wear tank tops and gym shorts, “Whatever, bro, it doesn't matter. I've got this, and that's what counts.” He winked at his dick and continued to jerk himself off, moving his hand faster and faster, “Fuck yeah, dude!” He moaned as he came, covering himself in cum and falling to the ground. And there he sat, totally spent until the door to the pod opened.

“Hey James,” James looked up and grinned.

"Yo, what's up, campaign manager bro?"

The older man smiled and turned to the judge, “Very good job, James here is perfect. No one will think Selection Day is rigged if even Senator Wagner’s son isn’t safe.”

“Nah, bro, it's Jim, not James.” Jim chuckled, “Like ‘gym’, get it bro?”

“Here Jim, get cleaned up.” The judge said, throwing the man a towel.

After wiping the cum from his hairy abdomen and chest, he got dressed in a tank top and gym shorts. And as he walked through the building, he barely cared at the glances of disgust and the people holding their noses. Nor did he care for the judgmental stares as he scratched his balls and pits, completely oblivious to social norms. When he finally got outside, he smiled when he saw his father’s limo. He quickly walked over and jumped in with a grin.

“Who are you?” His father asked, scrunching his nose.

Jim grinned and pulled his dad in for a hug, “Yo, dad, it's me, Jim. What's good?"

Several months had passed since then and much changed for Jim. His father quickly disowned him, believing that James hadn’t been honest with the family if this was the outcome of Selection Day. Besides, appealing outcomes was a lengthy process and for Jim’s dad, there could be great political repercussions given his support for the process. So Jim would remain. His life on the golf course and dining in the country club just a memory.

But Jim didn’t mind as he entered his small studio apartment and tossed his gym bag to the ground. He walked over to the dirty mattress in the middle of his room and plopped down, scratching his pits and flipping through his phone.

“Bro, check it out! Dad crushed the election, fuck yeah!” He cheered with a grin. His grin only widened as he read the text from the cute blond guy from the gym.

Even if he couldn’t celebrate with his family that night, Jim was going to celebrate. And as he texted the guy his address, he could feel the monster in his pants start to grow.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #jock tf

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 2 months

Text

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS Pt. 2 ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx

A/N: Don't kill me please guysss! I started like 3 classes last week so I haven't had time to write!

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT BDSM ] + [ CREAMPIE ] + [ BRANDING ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx

Swallowing your pride was easier said than done. Every nerve in your body screamed to move away from Alastor, cower somewhere safe and out of his reach, even if it wouldn't do you much good. He could do as he pleased with you, demand your obedience as he saw fit, and force your compliance without a second thought.

All of that imminent control loomed over your head and weighed your chest with anxiety while the courage to speak faltered, but as scared as he made you feel, he still felt like the safest person to be around.

Sitting there, in his lap, alone with no chance of avoiding him, was personalized torture. You hadn't muttered a completely coherent phrase since he'd brought you to the Radio Tower, face burning rose red as your brows knitted together with worry and your eyes fixed on the details of his suit rather than his face. You noted how smooth and taut the fabric spread over his form; you'd always been aware of how much larger the stag was compared to you; his thighs were firm against your ass which helped spread your softer ones apart. If you so much as shifted an inch or he decided to lift his leg, your skirt would ride up and reveal what was hidden underneath. A perfect position to rut in, a prime opportunity to alleviate the ache building in your cunt, but you refused to admit or show the desire to do so in his presence.

You'd have to take care of it yourself later in the evening like always. The objective of walking out of this intense situation was your concern at the moment, and so you lifted your head to stare at him, hopefully.

“What I said earlier…” you trailed off as Alastor hummed, a low crackle coating the noise as he brought a hand to rest under his chin. You watched as he leaned back, utterly relaxed, waiting for you to continue.

The smirk on his face annoyed you, a clear sign he either found your flustered state inconsequential or laughable. It wouldn't be abnormal for Alastor to react that way; it was his nature, and your fire little crush on him wouldn't change that.

I might as well get this over with…

Your face fell into a pout, hands raising to hug your arms to ease the goosebumps rising on your skin. “What I said earlier was in the heat of the moment. You're my master, and I see you as nothing more..”

The lie stung your tongue as it slipped off, gaze hardening to mask the disappointment felt in yourself for doing so.

Alastor remained silent; an elongated beat of anticipation hung above you both, growing denser as his predatory red eyes bore into yours. “I see,” he muses, voice low and thoughtful, but his smile strained.

“You feel nothing for me at all, my dear?”

You nod timidly, counting the seconds until he lets you off his lap and allows you to leave, “Nothing at all.” You repeat, gulping a whimper down as his free hand kneads the fat of your hips. “I'm not sure I believe that, darling. You’ll need to prove it to me.”

Your eyes widen, your tummy backflips, and your hands ball into tight fists as panic sets into your bones.

He couldn't be serious?!…

“W-what? How am I supposed to do that?!” you whined defiantly, frustrated with the stag and unbearably antsy.

Now, he was toying with you. Like always, you didn't deem that fair on his part -as if he ever played by any rules.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, “Oh, I think you're well aware of how sweetheart. It's truly a matter of what you prove to me by the end.” The commotion of radio static overlapped his voice heavily, emphasizing his hidden command with demonic prowess, and your body buzzed with unbridled fear at the sound.

What the hell is he talking about?..

Wait…

Within seconds, your brain caught up to his implication, and your hips instinctively bucked forward. Embarrassment crept up your spine, written all over your face as the overload chuckled at the impulsive action.

It would help if you had forced yourself up; you should've put up more of a fight as his hand on your hip lowered to slip under your skirt and up your inner thigh. It would help if you had leaped away, ran, or done anything to distance yourself and Alastor.

Yet, all you could manage was a soft, “Please don't..” as he touched you, but your plead received no compliance. Your body betrayed your consciousness; arousal pooled on his deft digits as he pushed two past your lace panties and straight into your eager cunt. The unusual invasion had your walls clamping down hard, spasming with need as he roughly curled his clawed fingers forward, and you yelped in shock at the immediate assault of your sweet spot. You weren't accustomed to being stretched by anyone else besides yourself, used to your fingers, but constantly thinking of having Alastor’s inside of you instead.

He was anything but a gentle demon, so you'd conclude that he'd be brutal in bed, but it still overwhelmed you. “You're not convincing me very well, little one.” his free hand found your face, clutching it tight as he dragged your head up to pull you closer. You whimpered as his nails pricked your soft skin, adding to the mix of agony and amazement you felt while he stretched your cunt in an unpredictable pattern.

“I. I don't feel anything for you. I’m not lying-ah! Nngh! Mm..” you writhed in his grasp, trying to pull away but only amplifying the friction of his hand against your cunt. Alastor pressed his palm to your clit, dragging a surprised scream from you as he rubbed slow circles on it. You lost it then, mind shutting off as he edged you tirelessly, and the added pressure on your bundle of nerves collided with the fullness his fingers provided.

Alastor hovered his lips above yours, drinking in your sultry whines and bashful moans. The fear never faded from your eyes; battling the lust that threatened to take its place and seeing the conflict in your innocent nature had his blood running hot.

Ruin you.

He wanted nothing more than to chip away at your indifferent demeanor, know just how soft and gullible you could be for him, and figure out how to abuse it until your soulbinding contract extended to ownership of your body.

His cock twitched to life at the thought of fucking you, dumb; hearing you admit over and over again that your affection for him knew no bounds doused his being in pure excitement.

A growl rumbled in Alaster's chest; his antlers grew larger with every desperate moan you let out, and his ears twitched upon hearing them reach a higher pitch.

You were dangerously close to your end, thighs quivering from the force of his hand thrusting against your slippery folds, slick dribbling down your inner thighs, which created an absolute mess on his lap.

“Look where your sweet little lie got you, my dear. Desperate for pleasure and willing to whore yourself out to me to prove a pathetic point..” The coil in your stomach wound tighter as the owner of your soul belittled you; the harsh word should've wounded you and made your senses reignite, but all it achieved was bringing tears to your eyes.

Bit by bit, your self-esteem declined, dulling the pride that ruled your heart and scattering to the furthest parts of your brain as he curled his fingers forward against a spongy sweet spot. “Oh fuck!” you shouted, trying to raise your hips away from him as a dizzying high rushed through your veins, steadying yourself by fisting the lapel of his suit for dear life. Alsstor turned his gaze downward, breathing in the scent of your cum with a pleased him vibrating in his chest as the creamy liquid drenched his hand, “Never imagined a tiny thing like you could make such a mess .” He slowed his pace, milking your cunt for all it was worth, marveling at how much cum he could extract from you with just his touch.

You shivered violently, choking on wanton screams and feeling lightheaded as he continued to stretch your gummy walls. If he didn't let up soon, you'd unravel again, faster than the first time, and so with the last bit of your self-awareness, you slumped forward into his chest before pulling your head to whisper in his ear.

“Wanna feel you, please.. I'll say whatever you wanna hear. Just fill me up, please.” The hold you had on his coat tightened, your claws elongating as a feverish need built in your core again, intensifying as Alastor nipped at your ear. You jolted, whimpering as his fangs drew blood from you, and the roar of white noise died down to allow his average voice clarity as he muttered into your skin. “Begging becomes you, my dear.”

The satisfied laugh he let out burned you, consumed you entirely, and though it felt cruel to hear it, you smiled proudly.

Your desperation pleased him. That was all you cared to know or think of as he withdrew his slender, blackened fingers from your generously stretched entrance. He left you empty, dripping with excitement and purring in his ear for more.

“Mmm, sweet, you are a little one. You should have a taste as well,” Alastor lapped at his hand, tongue lazily running from the heel of his palm to the tip of his claws, savoring your essence with a widening grin before pushing a single-digit pad on your lips. “Mphm,” you whine as you suck, eyes rolling as the mixture of your drool, his saliva, and the lingering residue of your cum dissipates onto your tongue like melting honey. He watched you intently, finding your willingness adorable, “Yes, just like that little one. Give me your all…show me how filthy you can be..”

His praise was enough to make you come again, untouched but gushing as if he'd shoved his fingers back inside you. The blush on your cheeks grew, shy whines spilling past your spit-slick lips, muffled as he replaced his hand with his own. Alastors tongue found yours, forcing it to compete for dominance, though it was apparent you were far from intelligent thought, and you let him explore your mouth as he pleased.

Borboun, blood, & brimstone.

That's what the Radio Demon tasted like, and you greedily accepted one heated kiss after the next, mewling and trembling as he sunk his fangs into your bottom lip. The deliberate pain he inflicted shocked you into a stupor; blood doused your tongue and consequently coated his as well. Alastor groaned in delight as you squirmed against helplessly, fearing the taste of your blood and afraid he'd draw more of it if you didn't break yourself away from him. He let you struggle, pants tightening at his crotch, an almost painful pulse coursing through his cock as your small body tried to peel away from him.

“Careful, little one,” he disconnects the kiss, breath fanning over your swollen lips as he warns you, and fear gets the better of you then.

Alastor could hurt you.

He would if it pleased him.

You'd crossed a line into territory no bound soul should ever do with its captor.

The limits you set not longer applied, thrown to the wind as the stag turned you in his lap, ripping your skirt and panties to shreds with a pass of his claws. You watched the fabric float to the floor at his feet, unconsciously shaking as he snaked his arms around your chest and waist, hugging you close like a puppet tied to his strings. You were exactly that, a frightful little thing who could barely think straight as he reached to undo the front of his pants, pulling his cock free with a heavy growl in your ear.

Your eyes went wide, feeling his length against your Lowe back, warm, throbbing, and not a size you could take in one go -let alone for the first time. “That's not going to fit-,” He rutted against you, silencing your apprehension with a statiky groan, “Nonsense, sweetheart. You've done splendidly for me so far. I know you'll be just fine..” Alastor had lost control of his voice, letting it slip into normalcy as lust clouded his judgment, and the minuscule deviation made you dizzy.

Did you entice him that much to the point he faltered in his persona?

Fascinating.

A shallow giggle left your lips as he mumbled obscenities into your ear, switching between adamant praise and shameless degradation while his shadow tendrils materialized around your thighs. You squealed quietly as they dug into your skin, lifting you off his lap just high enough to hover your count over his cock. “Take a breath, darling,” Alastair whispered, a hint of care in his tone, and you craned your head to give him a curious look, “Why-?! Alastor! Fuck, wait!-” You yelped as his shadows pulled you down onto him with force, knocking the wind out of your chest and gradually splitting your cunt open to fit him entirely.

It hurt like hell, as if you were being ripped down the middle, but as quickly as the agony began, pleasure burned in its wake. Alastair felt it first, antlers doubling my size as his claws dug into your skin and his patience waning thin. Your creamy walls engulfed him deliciously, a feeling he could only describe as heavenly, intensifying with every resistant jut of your hips.

“S’ too much! Al, please,” you cry, out of breath and lightheaded. One glance downward, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take much more, a small mound already visible in your stomach and your cunt squelching as he shifted underneath you. “Oh, but you feel so divine, little one.” He coos in your ear, growling a curse when you sink on his cock inch by inch, and your hands fly to grip at his larger ones that rest over your breasts and abdomen.

His encouragement rings in your ears like bells, diverting your frenzied doubts long enough for your body to be tense, allowing his shadows to bring you down.

Thank satan, I’m dead already, or this would surely be my end…

Alastor groaned loudly, head tipping back, crackling waves of white noise emitting from him as you took all he had to offer. “Knew you could do it, baby. Fuck, I’m so proud…of you,” the overload drawled lazily, smiling softly as you went weak against him, mindlessly rolling your hips to take him deeper.

To hell with thinking about anything. You found no use for it being stuffed full with no choice of escape.

You thought about him all day.

Did what he asked of you, obediently and without complaint.

Caring for him was bound to happen; craving to know what it felt like to have him all to yourself couldn’t be helped, so why deny this glorious opportunity to quell both desires?

Strings attached or not, you wanted him and couldn’t bear lying about it any longer.

A sick smile etched its way onto your face, spreading wide as you took control of your hips, setting a timid pace to get accustomed to his size. Alastor huffed a laugh, head tucked in your shoulder, fangs nipping at any skin he could reach while you slid up and down his length. It was no easy task for a fragile demoness like yourself, the little strength you had dwindled quicker every time the head of his cock hit your cervix. Yet, you couldn't stop moaning louder, slamming down harder to feel the burning stretch that followed tingles of pleasure as your warm walls committed the very shape of him to memory.

Alastor peered at your face, red eyes glowing as they zeroed in on your twisted expressions—satisfaction, pain, determination, and desperation.

He'd never imagined you to make such faces, used to seeing your usual sweet smile that could melt the coldest heart or the delicate frown you'd present when something didn't go your way. You hid a lot from others, him exceedingly, and he couldn't be you for it.

However, if this is what you looked like, delirious and nearly fucked out, he wouldn't mind seeing you express yourself in his presence.

All that need in your eyes when you levered your head back, the stars in them when he began to meet your tired thrusts with vigorous ones of his own, and the blissful scream you let out in gratitude amounted to a resolution he'd previously set aside.

Owning your soul would never be enough.

No, the radio demon needed a tangible claim to you, a mark of some sort to let every being in hell know your body belonged to him.

“Tell me, do you wish to be mine, Y/n?…” he held your gaze, hands finding your hips to slow the rise of them, and you immediately whined an answer to his question from the loss of friction. “Yes..w-whatever you want from me, I'll g-give it… hmm.” your skin crawled as the knot in your stomach begged to slip free, enduring solid strokes from the demon holding you, shamelessly covering you into another deal.

One that'd leave more than a green chain around your neck.

Alastors ears twitched at your confession, signaling his amusement, but the action went unnoticed by you as he hovered a hand over your chest. “A wise choice, my dear,” he muses, a green glow passing from your palm to the center of your chest, eliciting an intricate sigil on your skin. You glanced down, admiring the distinctive red markings on your skin, and you could only describe the sight as endearing.

He hummed as you clung tighter to him, trying to speak but giving up as he relented his steady strokes to rapid thrusts. Your mouth fell open, back arching away from his chest as you erupted into a fit of high-pitched moans. It crossed your mind for a second that the entirety of hell might hear you, that heaven might very well know his name solely from your screams, but you could care less.

Alastor did not seem to mind either, grunting and growling in your ear lowly. The tremor of his overlay shattering as his cock twit he'd inside you and his grin pulling itself taut as your slippery cunt suffocated it in response. You were close, deathly aware of it too, but intended to last as long as he did.

Intended, but ultimately unsuccessful.

“For the love of- Alastor!” you groaned incredulously, losing your grip on reality as his shadows wrapped around your knees, bringing them in close together before pressing into your chest. The new angle made you feel every vein in his cock, how it fits just right in your womb, how hard it could press into your sweet spot.

It made you delirious within seconds, your horns revealing themselves and nails digging into the back of his hands viciously as your high reached its peak.

“Fuck!” Alastor hissed, disregarding his aversion to cursing while you came, walls holding him in with a vice-like grip. A shaky whine tumbled from you as your essence leaked out, coating his comic in a thick sheen and turning cold as it trickled down your skin.

There was so much of it, more than you were used to, but it made it all the easier for him to continue slamming up into you. “M’ going to come again if you don't stop,” you mumbled dazedly, body going weak as overstimulation raced through it, but Alastor paid your warning no mind. “Then so be it, little one,” he purred, voice more profound than usual as it ran in your head. You smiled mischievously, giddy after coming down from an intense high and on the verge of another as he used you like a ragdoll.

Your delighted giggles stirred Alastor, creating a lethal combination with your unapologetic smile as he chased his release. The red markings on your chest caught his eye, dimly glowing under his scrutiny and a visual reminder to you both what this exchange meant.

You reached a hand up to trace over the sigil on your chest, shivering as he watched your fingertips gingerly graze his binding on you. The docile action drew him over the edge, buried to the hilt inside you as he painted your walls white. You writhed in pleasure, mewling softly as your stomach swelled slightly, and your thighs shook from the intensity of your reaching end in the midst of his.

Alastor inhaled sharply, radio waves humming through the air as he finished, refusing to pull out of you entirely until he was sure you'd taken every drop of his cum. The specters on your legs vanished, leaving you to slump back into his chest, and you considered falling to the floor in fear he'd put you there himself.

You were surprised when he didn't do so, opting to settle his head in the crook of your neck while trying to catch his breath for a moment before sitting straight up again. Alastor let a beat of silence pass, straightening himself up to look decent but not saying a word to you as the air of lust evaporated. You frowned, a little hurt he wasn't speaking, but primarily concerned if you disappointed him.

You went to stand up, head hanging low as you considered what to do or say, but a force tugged you back down into his lap. The mark on your chest stung a bit, only calming when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, “M’ sorry!” you quickly rushed out an apology, afraid of his possible wrath, but he merely chuckled at your sudden fear.

“There's no need to fret, little one. I mean, you no harm from here on out so long as you remain at my side..” the stag emphasized his demand by trailing a hand from the cum induced hump in your abdomen to the etchings on your chest. A timid blush rose in your cheeks as the radio demon hummed melodically, admiring his work on you as he snapped his fingers. The room was no longer stuffy, spacious, and filled with his scent.

Your eyes trailed the expanse of the new view, familiar with it despite only visiting his room once before for a few moments. It felt cozier than you remembered, or maybe exhaustion was getting to you.

Whatever the case was, you were simply happy to be in his space, perplexed by the arrangement but grateful for it nonetheless. Alastor held you steady in his arms, letting you marvel at the room as he guided you toward the nearest sofa. “You don't have a bed?” you asked him innocently, concerned that he wasn't getting proper rest, but he didn't seem to be bothered by your questioning.

“I'm not one to rest often, my dear.” he sat you down on the plush couch, smile softening as you stared up at him, ears flattening while worry clouded your tired eyes. “How do you not sleep, Alastor? Aren't you ever tried?..” you looked him up and down, blushing as he laughed, “Are you always this curious, little one, or does your special interest in me make you bolder than usual?”

“N-no, it's just that…” you paused, watching as he summoned himself to change clothes, doing the same for you with a wave of his hand. Alastor took his time addressing, waiting for you to continue explaining with a knowing smile plastered on his face.

You avoided staring at him as he changed, catching a glimpse of scars on his body as he slipped on a white dress shirt, and you swore it looked just as good on him as the red and black one he always wore did.

“Don't keep me waiting, doll. Speak.” He scolded, amused by your stalling but not a fan of unfinished sentences. You gulped, becoming skittish as his command hung in the air, but complying within seconds

“I just hoped to spend a little more time with you. Besides what we just…” you couldn't put it into words, biting your tongue at the recent memory, and you half expected Alastor to disregard your implication, but he did nothing of the sort.

“The seal I've placed on you won't allow you to leave my side unless I explicitly give my permission. If you're asking to stay the night with me, I can assure you I've already decided you'll do so.”

You blinked, smiling wide as he rested a hand on your head, petting you just as he'd done in the hotel lobby.

“I don't think I'd ever want to leave your side anyway,” you mumbled absentmindedly, leaning into his touch as he crouched down to be eye level with you, “So, it's settled then. You'll need no one else besides me, correct?”

You nod, eyes lighting up with pure submission, “Yes, sir.”

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx

Someone said Alastor stands when he sleeps and just stares at a wall in his room and I think that's fucking haliarous. Imagine walking in on him sleeping and he literally flinches from shock and falls backward on his ass cause he doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until someone startles him. In all honesty he is me and I'm him cause I don't sleep either. ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s so…corny but fucking cute so I’ll let it slide THIS TIME… also I love it when his eyes narrow like oh my god yes glare at meeee silly red takes mann! ❤️ credit to creator!

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lichenes · 1 month

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Amour amour

Vincent has a strange fixation with your *gestures wildly*... CW: estabilished relationship, french people, kissing, tooth rotting fluff, LOTS of physical contact, sfw (nothing happens just some tension) Vincent Renzi x gn!reader wc: 562

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____

Wherever you went it seemed that Vincent went there too. He seemed to be following you like a lost puppy, a lovesick expression painted on his face. You were chalking it up to you being in the honeymoon stage of your relationship but didn't expect for this state to turn into your everyday life.

Vincent entered the room you were in, wearing only the pyjama pants he bought as a pis aller to convince you he had some sense of style which didn't consist only of elaborately patterned shawls. He gave you a knowing smile. "Bonjour." He said in a low, sultry voice immediately breaking character and bursting into laughter.

You amused him by giggling and sat up on the bed you were previously laying on, extending your arms towards his presence. Vincent obliged and with a slight chuckle he got closer to you in a few strides pressing his bare chest to your face and embracing your head.

"Very comfortable..." you mused, a laugh threatening to escape your lips, words muffled by his tight hug. "Shhhh..." he shushed you and started stroking your hair. You relaxed into his touch putting your arms around his waist.

You stayed like this for a few moments more before the day had to start fully. After you let go Vincent crouched down to be on your lever and put his hand on your cheek gently caressing it with his thumb. Both your hands wandered towards his silver locks which looked especially alluring.

Tugging on them he released a content whine. "Careful." He mused as he got closer. Every time it was the same with him, he knew exactly how to sweep you off your feet without even trying. Vincent put both his hands on your cheeks and gave you the sweetest kiss imaginable, not wanting to overwhelm you in the morning.

When he turned to walk away you grabbed his hand and he turned around questioningly. "Chéri?" You stood up and got closer to him and put your hands around his neck, smiling, you ghosted your lips over his and immediately turned around walking away towards the kitchen.

His lips chased yours but never quite got to catch up to them. Vincent followed suit and entered the kitchen where you were just putting the kettle on.

"Ah you're cruel..." He feigned affront, putting his hand on his chest. Your back was against the kitchen counter and you chuckled at his theatricals. He went up to you and stole a kiss which you teased him with before, knocking the air out of you with the fervency of it.

Vincent pulled away clearly pleased with himself grinning wildly. Your face was hot from all the affection you recieved, clearly enjoying it. It was your turn to put your hands on his cheeks. Just as you were about to say something he chimed. "You're so pretty sunshine." Your cheeks got even hotter.

Sunshine. It was one of Vincent's favourite pet names for you because it made you the most flustered. Your blushes, stolen glaces, the way it made him feel transcended humanity's understanding of love. Goddess was a word that didn't do you justice.

You were more like an eldrich benevolent force which was the only thing he got out of bed for. You chuckled into the kiss. "Ah Vincent Renzi, the man you are..." you sighed contently.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____ masterlist

#x reader #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall #swann #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x gn!reader #one shot

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sluttywonwoo · 9 months

Note

imagine joshua cream pie-ing you he’d love it i think he’d like laying with you for a bit while cockwarming to keep his cum inside u but it’s easy for him to end up hard again so he’ll end up fucking it deeper into you (if you’re up for it)

“babe?”

“hm?”

you’re halfway asleep when joshua’s voice rouses you from dozing off. you can’t really turn around to face him without making a big mess so you settle for a noise of acknowledgment to let him know you’re awake.

“um, are you… do you want to—”

“you’re hard again, aren’t you?”

he whines, big hands squeezing your sides. “i’m sorry. i can’t help it!”

you smile to yourself. “i know, shua. i’m just surprised because you came already.”

“i know,” he sighs into your shoulder from behind.

“i mean, i can still feel it inside of me,” you point out.

joshua’s cock twitches in response. “fuck, baby, don’t say things like that.”

“why not?”

you can’t help but tease him when he gets like this. it’s impossible not to. plus you consider it payback for all the teasing he does to you in his pre-nut state of mind.

“you know why,” he pouts. “please can i fuck you, baby? if you’re not too tired? it won’t take much, i promise…”

“won’t take much? but what if i want to cum too?”

“i can make you cum! i can!”

“before you do?”

he doesn’t answer right away this time. “i can try.”

you snort, which makes you clench around him unintentionally.

“fuuuck,” joshua groans, fingers digging into your hips as he tries to hold back. “you feel too fucking good.”

“wow, you are close,” you muse.

“it’s j-just because i’m sensitive!” he hisses defensively.

“mhm, sure.”

“i-”

you clench around him again, this time on purpose, and moan as you feel him cum inside of you for the second time tonight. all he can do is weakly fuck into you as he rides it out, cursing your name with each pulse of his cock.

there’s so much of it that some seeps out around the base of his cock. it’s too dark in your bedroom to see it happening but you can feel it. you feel it dripping onto the sheets beneath you, feel the insides of your thighs becoming slick with it.

“you didn’t even try to make me cum,” you say, letting joshua hear the frown in your voice.

“you. played dirty.”

“i played to my strengths,” you correct him.

he huffs out a laugh of disbelief. you can picture him shaking his head behind your back.

“do you have any more in you?” you ask. there’s a tinge of hope in the question but you try to hide it. you don’t want to make him feel bad if he’s well and truly spent.

“fuck yeah. best two out of three?”

#answered #anon #seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua smut #joshua hong smut

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jymwahuwu · 6 months

Text

you all want to read dan feng x moon rabbit! reader. so here it is 🐇(jing yuan’s version is left for next time💕my energy is limited).

CW: dub-con, yandere, estrus, mating

As the only moon rabbit in Luofu, moon rabbit is destined to serve Imbibitor Lunae 🐇

You diligently pound medicine and prepare pastries. Master Dan Feng always praises you for this.

You turn around and often see those dark turquoise eyes staring at you, like the deep and beautiful eyes of a reptile, but there is almost no movement. Gaze at the same point.

"Master Dan Feng…?"

Your tail is a short, smooth, fluffy ball of hair, and your clothes are made to order. Foxian's clothes are not the right size for you, wearing those will expose your underwear…The High Elder's palm covers your tail. He only needs one palm to hold your adorable furball tail.

"Master Dan Feng!"

Your tail is a restricted area, and this touch sends a shiver down your spine… as well as twitching and heat between your legs.

A slap on your bunny butt. You gasped. "Focus on your work." He walked away. You clamped your legs together, bit your lip, and continued kneading the dough.

The most disruptive thing to work is being in heat. Your breasts are leaking milk. You can't help but want to circle around Dan Feng and rub against his legs.

"Master Dan Feng… I-I want to take leave to spend this time on other planets, please… allow…"

Before you could finish your words, High Elder forcefully pulled you onto his lap. You sniffed the reassuring feeling on him with attachment and whimpered, bouncing up and down simulating mating without even touching his cock.

"Master Dan Feng…please allow me to go home on leave…"

A kiss stopped dumb bunny's protests. His palms pressed against your back again, prompting you to subconsciously expose your genitals and allow for mating.

The dragon's cock inserted into the inner flesh wall as expected, but it was already clamped at the moment of expansion - cumming. He hadn't even started to move. You squirted. White light flashed before your eyes, and you moaned and swayed your waist in bliss. You look so desperate. He sighed, stretching his waist forward, stirring your spasming inner walls and waves.

"Mas…ter Dan Feng…please-please don't stop…!! …need you so much…!!"

You are much more straightforward in this state, with tears streaming down your face and your waist tense. Dan Feng mused as he ravaged you, which kept clamping him and trembling, with a strong piston mating frequency, until the warm seed flowed into you.

"umm- mmm- master…"

After mating, you rubbed against his chest while half asleep, occasionally grabbing his cock to masturbate, and occasionally being fucked to orgasm by his fingers. A warm sense of security surrounds you. Sweet dreams one after another.

How did the dragon swallow the rabbit? You are too innocent and sweet for the world. It's safer to hide you.

#yandere dan feng x female reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

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ellecdc · 3 months

Text

Come Back, Be Here (part 4)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 6.2k words

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff, banter, Walburga Black, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. Now, you're moving in to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The group watched as the row of townhomes groaned and stretched to expose 12 Grimmauld place in all her glory. Sirius was certain he could hear his mother and father rolling in their graves to know that he – their disinherited blood-traitor son – was the last Black and official heir once again to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. He grimaced at the title.

“Two disgraced Black’s returning to the scene of the crime.” Ted Tonks joked, both Sirius and Andromeda gave him a look.

“Feels like the beginning of a bad, racist joke.” James mused.

Sirius groaned in response. “What happens when three blood-traitors, three muggle-borns and one half-blood half-breed walk into a bar?”

“Get drunk, I hope.” Lily muttered miserably.

“Well, Sirius, welcome home.” Andromeda announced as she made her way up the stairs to the front door. Sirius pushed the door open and stepped inside a house he hadn’t stepped foot into since he was sixteen years old. He had been so sure at that time that he’d never return; he wished he had been right.

The house was just as dark and gloomy as it had been when he left it, but it was now also covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Okay, please, for the love of all that is holy: Lily, Y/N, Remus, Ted: you are to touch nothing until Andromeda, James or I have checked it first.” Sirius said before pausing, “Scratch that. Touch nothing until Andromeda or I have checked it – okay?”

This earned him an indignant ‘hey!’ from James and a quick agreement from everyone else.

“YOU DISGRACEFUL, WRETCHED BOY!” Sirius’s face drained of all colour at the all-too-familiar sound of his mother’s screeching.

“That old hag is supposed to be dead!” He shouted as he and Andromeda ran up the stairs following the sound of his foul-mouthed mother.

“HOW DARE YOU STEP FOOT INTO THIS MOST NOBLE AND ANCIENT HOUSE, YOU FLITHY BLOOD TRAITOR!” the screeching continued.

The source of the chaos came from none other than an awful magical portrait of the very late Walburga Black, Sirius’ mother and Andromeda’s aunt.

“Oh, thank Godric, she is dead.” Sirius sighed in relief, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the very unwelcome company haunting this house.

“Maybe we can remove it?” Andromeda mused as she tried to pull the portrait from the wall.

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME; SULLYING YOURSELF WITH THE LIKES OF MUDBLOODS YOU TRAITOROUS WHORE.”

“Charming as always, Aunt Walburga.” She muttered when her pulling was for naught.

Sirius attempted a silencio which seemed to work for at least a little as Walburga’s face contorted with rage and she continued spewing what Sirius could only assume was foul hatred for all things not Voldemort related.

“Okay so that will last like, not long enough at all. Merlin, I wish we could just burn this place down with her in it.” He muttered as they made their way back downstairs. Ted and James were cooing over a crying Harry who must have been upset at the screeching of the house’s previous occupant, while Remus and Lily muttered quietly to each other. You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, appearing bored for all intents and purposes, but Sirius could tell you were straining your neck to peer into the rooms you could see from your post.

“Okay, semi-false alarm. Walburga is indeed still dead.” Sirius stated which was met with a cheer from James causing Harry to clap in comradery.

“However, she has cursed us with a magical portrait of herself stuck on the wall with a permanent sticking charm.” He finished, causing James to groan and Harry to start crying again.

“Okay, so, ignoring the unpleasant company for now, where do we start?” Lily interrupted.

“First of all, Red, as I said you will not be starting anywhere.” Sirius rallied.

“Sirius, this place is huge, and we need to clear a space for six of us to sleep tonight.” She countered, but the argument was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

Everyone exchanged nervous glances. “Literally, no one should know we’re here.” James muttered.

“It could be Moody?” Remus offered nervously.

“Should Kreacher answer the door, Master.” A crotchety old voice sneered from behind him, causing Sirius to yelp and jump what felt like a foot in the air.

“Merlin’s tits.” James muttered as Harry started shrieking again.

“Godric, I’ve never seen you not hanging off my mother’s bosom; I sort of hoped you had died with her.” He muttered, rubbing his chest trying to convince his heart to return to a normal pace.

“Sirius.” You scolded from your place against the wall.

“Kreacher lives to serve the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, even if it’s occupants are filthy blood-traitors and their mud-bloods.” The ancient house-elf muttered.

“New management, new rule Kreacher, no more mud-blood talk.” Sirius barked.

“Yes, Master.” The elf sneered before heading toward the door. Sirius quickly pulled you and Lily, who was now holding a sniffling Harry, behind him much to the chagrin of the two women.

“Master, the wizard tells Kreacher that he’s a curse breaker sent by a Moody.” The elf mumbles over his shoulder.

Sirius relinquished his hold on the two witches and allowed the man entry.

Sirius reiterated to the curse breaker that Lily, Remus, you, and Ted were not to touch anything in any room until the curse breaker, Sirius or Andromeda cleared it first. The curse breaker showed James, Andromeda, and Sirius a few detection spells and a few simple reversal charms before they set off to different levels of the house; Sirius and Andromeda decided to focus on the bedrooms and bathrooms whilst the curse break started in the shared living spaces on the first floor, and James went to the kitchen with Kreacher.

Sirius felt like he was making decent progress. He and Andromeda had cleared out three bedrooms and two bathrooms between the second and third floors, and he had worked up a decent sweat. He had two boxes of dark artifacts to be either destroyed, uncursed or donated. The screeching had started back up in earnest again when the silencio wore off an hour after casting.

“You miserable hag.” Sirius muttered as he marched over to his mother’s portrait to recast the spell. Once the ringing in his ears stopped, he heard another shriek and a bang.

“Y/N!” Lily could be heard shouting, and Sirius bolted down the stairs. He arrived in the parlour at the same time as Remus and James.

“What happened?” Remus demanded.

“She touched a book!” Lily tattled.

“I’m fine.” You muttered as you sat up and cradled your right wrist.

Sirius sighed, fear melting into frustration which quickly melted into fondness. “You sneaky little witch.” He muttered as he moved to crouch beside you. “Let me see.”

“No.” You pouted.

“Y/N.”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Let me see your hand.”

“Bugger off.”

“You minx.”

Sirius sat there biting his cheek trying to suppress a grin at the sight of you sitting petulantly feeling embarrassed being caught having done something naughty.

“What did I say?” Sirius scolded.

You muttered something under your breath.

“What was that?” He smirked, leaning his ear closer to you for dramatic effect.

“Not to touch anything.”

“Uh huh. And what did you do?”

“I touched something.”

Sirius was full on beaming at you now.

“Thought so, let me see.”

You let out an indignant huff and held your wrist out to Sirius, who despite his crassness, took it so unbelievably gently in his own hands. It appeared that you had touched something that was cursed with a knock-back jinx, which twisted your wrist violently on impact. It could have been worse, small mercies.

“Dollface, I could have gotten you a book if you were bored.” Sirius commented as he reduced the swelling with a quick flick of his wand and placed a glacius charm to help with any more inflammation.

“Don’t tease me.” You whispered miserably, and Sirius looked up to see that your eyes were glassy.

“Are the tears because you’re hurt, because you’re scared, or because you’re embarrassed?” Sirius whispered back. Your eyes met his and a single tear fell. He lifted his hand which was met with a mild flinch before he gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“I’m not teasing, love. And you don’t have to be embarrassed; if it hadn’t been you, it would have been Moony.” Which was met with an indignant ‘Oi!’ from the werewolf who had moved down the hall in an attempt to give them privacy. “You also don’t have to be scared. Alright?”

You held his gaze before nodding with a sniff. He massaged your wrist and hand gently, recasting a glacius over the injury.

“Did I teach you this?” You asked quietly, causing Sirius’ head to shoot up from its lowered position.

“Do you remember?” He asked unbelievingly.

You moved your head back-and-forth as if to say so-so. “I remember...uhm-”

He waited with bated breath watching your face as you organized your thoughts.

“Bludgers. The smell of cigarettes and broom wax. And a broken wrist.”

Sirius was sure he heard angels singing. Her first memory is resurfacing. And it’s when I broke my wrist playing quidditch at Potter manor.

“It was you, wasn’t it? Who broke their wrist?” You clarified.

Sirius nodded dumbly. “Yes.” He croaked.

“I think you got hurt often.”

Sirius chuckled, “Yes, I certainly did.”

“That must have been exciting.” You mused.

“I’m sure I was exhausting.” He countered as he continued massaging your arm. He could probably stop now, but he really didn’t want to.

“Please; you got hurt because you were playing quidditch, I got hurt because I touched a book after I was specifically told not to touch anything.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, come now. It’s my fault really; I should have known better than to try to tell you what to do.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments; Sirius continuing to work out tension in your arm.

“Which book was it?” He asked you finally. He seemed to catch you off guard, as you looked at him inquisitively. “Which book were you trying to read?”

You blushed but stood up and pointed to the offending book. Secrets of the Darkest Art.

“All this fuss over a book, babe?” he smirked at you as your blush intensified. He cast a quick counter curse over it like the curse breaker taught him and handed you the book.

“Now please, for the love of Merlin, don’t touch anything else?” He asked with a smile which was met with a shy smile of your own.

“Thanks, Siri.” You mumbled. His heart soared at your use of his old nickname, and before he even realized what he was doing, he bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Read up, my little swot. I think I heard Kreacher muttering about making dinner. Hopefully it’s not poisoned.” He said as he exited the room.

Turns out, dinner was not poisoned, and it was actually quite good. They all thanked Kreacher even though the elf acted as if the simple act of feeding them would be the thing to damn him straight to hell. The Tonks’ were quite eager to leave after the fourth rousing of Walburga and left before the dinner was served. Andromeda and Sirius had managed to de-dark-art-ify all the bedrooms on the second and third floor plus the bathrooms. They opted to leave his parents room, and his and Regulus’ rooms untouched. As much as they teased poor James, he accomplished quite a lot in the kitchen and main living room, while the curse breaker focused on the hallways and various parlour rooms on the main floor. Lily mentioned that she wouldn’t mind brightening the place up if Sirius was open to some redecorating – to which he responded with a quick “If it were up to me, Red, this place would be in flames by now”, so she advised she’d make some plans tomorrow. You and Remus fussed over Harry to save Kreacher from anymore toddler ear yanks, but if the house-elf was grateful for the interference, he didn’t show it. A message arrived stating that the cottage in Godric’s Hollow appeared to be secure; Lily looked like she wanted to cry at the prospect of being reunited with her things.

Remus said goodbye to everyone after dinner, stating he couldn’t leave the flat unattended since Sirius appears to be willing to neglect it for the next foreseeable future, which was met with a two-finger salute from Sirius and boos from James which were then chorused by Harry.

“It’s meant to be a slumber party, Moony. Just like the old days.” James whined, which sucked the air out of the room; it suddenly became very obvious to Sirius, James, Lily, and Remus that they had been betrayed by their closest friend, who was possibly responsible for the death of some of their other friends.

“Pads, we can’t keep paying for a flat that no one is using.” Remus argued.

“Uhm, I can, and I will, thank you very much. What’s the point of inheriting all of my family’s dirty money if I can’t waste it on whatever I want?”

Remus sighed, “Fine. I’m going home tonight, though. I can’t leave the cat and the plants.”

“You’re such a good daddy.” Lily smirked from the end of the table.

“Shush, you.” Remus said as he ruffled her hair before smoothing it out and kissing the top of her head. He moved to Harry and placed a kiss there too, before James stuck his head up as if he, too, was waiting for a kiss. Remus rolled his eyes before pecking both James and Sirius on the head and pausing at you.

“What? No kiss for me, Moony?” You smirked and teasingly batted your eyelashes at him. Remus laughed and placed a kiss on your head before waving and promising everyone he’d be back tomorrow, cat and plants in tow.

Much to Kreacher’s chagrin, Sirius and James insisted on cleaning up the kitchen themselves which got a “filthy blood-traitor’s” being cursed at them. He then announced he’d be going to the house in Godric’s Hollow to retrieve their belongings – surprising James and Sirius into silence.

Lily and James took the farthest room on the second floor, it was the largest which left plenty of room for a crib for Harry, and it had their own washroom. Sirius held the bags containing your things and watched as you inspected the other rooms, allowing you to choose next.

“Which room do you suppose Remus would like?” You asked him.

“Vix, it doesn’t matter. You choose.”

“If he has plants, maybe this room? It would get nice light in the evenings; I don’t think he’d appreciate the morning light.” You mused as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

Sirius couldn’t even celebrate the fact that you seemed to correctly remember something about Remus before he nagged you. “Y/N, for the love of Merlin, pick a room.”

“Well, which room are you taking?”

Sirius paused. “What?”

“Which room will you take?”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “I have my old room upstairs. I was just going to stay there.”

You paused. “You aren’t going to stay down here? With us?” The ‘with me?’ was unspoken but Sirius heard it anyway.

“Oh, right. No, of course. Erm.” He looked at the three rooms. It appeared you had already decided the middle room was Remus’ – what with the sunlight for the cat or the plants or the sleeping or what-not. There were two other rooms kiddie-corner to each other. The one at the end of the hall was the largest of the two, and had windows on two walls, versus just the one wall containing windows in the other room.

“I think I’ll take this one.” He said, motioning to the smaller room. It was directly across the hall from the washroom, which was beside the last room – your room – which meant he would be close by.

“Okay.” You nodded, looking into the room you essentially forced Sirius into picking for you. “I’ll take this one then.” You smiled at him as if you chose it for yourself.

“Good choice, gorgeous.” He said as he placed your bags on the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. “Can’t wait to see what Lil’s comes up with for this place – all the Slytherin green needs to go.”

You hummed and looked around the dark room. “I don’t know, the snakes and skulls are really warm and inviting, Sirius. Don’t fix what ain’t broken.” You finished the sentence in a poorly done southern American accent.

The two of you quipped back and forth about the décor in various accents as you unpacked your bags. Sirius found the scene to unbelievably domestic and lovely, basking in the effervescent glow that was your company until you both retired for bed.

Sirius pushed the door open as quietly as he could and stole a glance at you; your breathing was even as you slept curled up in the fetal position on the bed where he’d left you several hours ago.

With a sigh, Sirius made his way down the stairs to the large parlour room – not coincidentally the one he knew had his late father’s liquor stored in an antique bar cart. He knew he shouldn’t – James and Lily fussed over him for months after you went missing, watching him spiral into himself as he tried to drink away his issues. He had to work hard not to end up completely dependent on alcohol – and it still wasn’t enough for him to stay in his supervisor’s good graces.

“You’re a good Auror, Sirius, and a mighty strong wizard – but this is getting out of control, and I cannot allow you to continue putting the rest of my staff at risk.” Moody had told him, and he was placed on a medical leave until James could confirm to Moody that he had gone a full four weeks without a drink.

Sirius sat with a crystal glass of fire whiskey and cast a quick incendio to light the fireplace. I feel like the ghost of my father he thought darkly. The Black’s were all basically carbon copies of each other – the only difference between the two Black sons and Walburga was that they had their father’s silver eyes. If Kreacher walked in now, he’d probably think he was looking at a down-and-out younger Orion Black, if Orion Black ever wore checkered pyjama pants and a band tee.

The fire whiskey was leaving a comfortable warmth in his stomach and esophagus as he leaned his head back against the chair. He felt so incredibly guilty.

Guilty for trusting Peter. Guilty for ever thinking the spy could be anyone but him. Guilty for believing you to be dead all of this time – when he could have been looking for you, should have been looking for you. Guilty to shouting your business in front of your friends. Guilty for ever introducing Peter to you. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

His musings were interrupted by a gentle knock on the parlour room doorframe. His eyes shot open, and he pointed his wand toward the disturbance, only to find the silhouette of you donned in pyjama shorts and a pullover jumper. He sighed in relief and unceremoniously tossed his wand back onto the side table.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” You offered quietly.

“No worries, love. I think everyone’s a touch jumpy these days.” He muttered, taking another sip from his glass.

You surveyed him from the door for a few moments before moving to sit in the matching wingback chair beside him, separated by only a small table.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You asked.

Sirius hummed, “Not well. Not for the last five months. Maybe longer.”

You nodded in agreement as you watched the flames dance in the fireplace. You hadn’t seen Sirius like this – not since you’ve been back, at least – but something about this mood of his felt familiar to you.

“Are you alright?”

Sirius laughed humourlessly. “The captive of an evil terrorist organization is asking me if I am okay because I happened to have my feelings hurt?”

He looked over at you, expecting to find signs of frustration or annoyance at his flippancy and obvious deflection. But - like he should have expected - all he saw was patience and understanding, and it broke him.

He hiccupped loudly and put his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered miserably.

“What is it you’re apologizing for?” You asked quietly.

“For losing you. For allowing it to happen. For introducing you to Pete. For trusting him with any of you. For believing you were dead. For feeling at all sorry for myself because I simply missed you whilst you were out there fighting for your fucking life. For telling you any of this.” He moaned.

You chuckled softly. “You do realize you’re apologizing on behalf of a lot of other people right now, right?”

Sirius raised his head to look at you.

“Don’t let them off the hook that easily.” You added seriously.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re apologizing for the way Peter treated me as if it was your fault – by doing so, you’re relieving him of an awful lot of responsibility.” You stated simply. Sirius watched the flames dance in your eyes as you watched the fire.

“You believed me to be dead, and you mourned me – that’s not a punishable offence, Sirius. In fact, I think I’d likely be miffed if you hadn’t seemed affected at all.”

Sirius smirked at that.

“And finally, you don’t need to apologize for telling me things when I was the one who asked you to.”

Sirius shook his head. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” He muttered.

“You can do that tomorrow.” You stated plainly with a shrug.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You sat in companionable silence as you both watched the fire. It wasn’t often Sirius found himself to be comfortable with silence and empty moments. Silence growing up always meant room for scrutiny – or it was due to his parents ignoring him to teach him a lesson. But it had always been so, incredibly refreshing with you. He always felt safe with you when neither of you felt the need to say anything at all, and just exist together in silence.

“At the meeting, you asked me if we were just friends before.” Sirius asked quietly. He continued when you hummed in acknowledgement. “Is that because you remembered?”

You considered his question for a moment. “Perhaps a bit. I don’t necessarily remember the moments or conversations, but I think a part of me remembers the feelings.”

Sirius hummed. “And the other bit?” He prodded as he turned to look at you. You smirked in response.

“Well, you’re not exactly subtle, love.” You winked at him.

Sirius barked a laugh. “No, I don’t think subtlety is a trait I possess.” He agreed.

“Lucky me.”

He stared at you for a long while.

“I don’t know how good at it I was.” He admitted.

“At what?”

“At loving you.”

You both let that hang in the air as you held each other’s gaze.

“But it was the best thing about me – getting to love you; being loved by you.” He added.

“That’s what woke me up.”

Sirius furrowed his brows. “Hm?”

You turned your gaze back to the fire.

“In my dream – or I suppose it was a memory. You and I were fighting; I accused you of only loving yourself. You laughed before you said ‘Actually, Princess, I hate myself. The only person worth love here is you.’”.

Sirius remembered that fight. It was after you had finally started talking to him again after the Worst Day of His Life™. You both decided to hash out exactly what happened that night with the stupid eyelash batting Hufflepuff that ended with you sleeping in Lily and Remus’ embrace after they had to clean up his mess.

(The boys dormitory, Hogwarts)

“It doesn’t matter, Sirius. What happened, happened, and it’s in the past.”

“It does matter though, because it hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, it doesn’t matter; I’m over it and it clearly meant nothing to you.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Decide what means something to me.”

“I didn’t, Sirius. You did. That night – you decided what I meant to you, which apparently wasn't much. It’s fine, you’re allowed to sleep with whoever you want. The relationship clearly meant more to me than it did to you – that was my mistake.”

“You weren’t mistaken!”

“Then why wasn’t it me!?” You finally shouted at him, tears begging to fall from your lower lash line.

Sirius didn’t have an answer for that. You scoffed at his lack of response and wiped angrily at your face.

“I don’t know why we’re even doing this.”

“Because it’s important.”

“It’s not important. It’s history. I’m over it.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say you’re over it.” The ‘over me’ in Sirius’ plea was left unsaid.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Sirius.”

“I just want things to go back to the way they were before. What can I do to fix this?”

“There’s nothing to fix, Sirius.”

“Bullshit.”

You stayed quiet.

“So, what? Am I not worth it then? Am I not worth fighting for?” He accused. Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Sirius, that’s not fair.”

“You’re not giving me anything else to go off here!”

“What about me!?” You shouted. “I need to look after myself for a change, Sirius. Because what all of this has taught me is that the only person you’re truly able to love is yourself.”

Sirius couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh; a real, loud belly laugh that began to hurt his sides.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“You’re so far from the mark you can’t even see it anymore.” He laughed as he collected himself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, Princess, I hate myself. The only person worth love here is you.”

(present)

Sirius sighed. “Why couldn’t your first memory of me be me doing something awesome; like the time I caught you when you fell off your broom or something.”

You laughed. “I had bruises from your death grip after that fall for weeks. And you were so annoying – you would hardly let me walk down the hallway without your constant supervision.”

You both seemed startled at your recounting the memory, but neither commented on it.

“Well excuse me, love. What makes you think I should trust you on the moving staircases with your nose shoved into a book if you couldn’t even handle a simple flight session on a school broom a mere twenty feet off the ground,

“Oh please, I didn’t have my nose shoved into a book.”

“You did too.”

“And I was definitely at least fifty feet off the ground – probably more.”

“Nope, wrong again.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“Must be exhausting being wrong all the time.”

“You son of a bitch.”

The two of you laughed; the familiarity of the banter and joking felt like a warm hug for you both. You fell into a companionable silence until the crackling of the fire was interrupted by a yawn you tried unsuccessfully to suppress.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you back to bed.” Sirius said as he stood, standing in front of you and offering you his hand.

You jokingly whined but allowed yourself to be pulled up by the black-haired man.

“You look like a hockey player” You blurted as you walked hand-in-hand up the stairs.

“Pardon me?” Sirius asked incredulously.

You ran your fingers through his hair, and he relished in the feeling. “The hair cut – it’s like a hockey player’s; they call it a ‘flow’.”

“A flow?” He smirked.

“Mhm.”

“Do you like it?” He asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Love it.” You offered immediately as if it was the most obvious answer.

You paused at your respective bedroom doors, neither seemingly wanting to part ways. Well, Sirius knew he didn’t, and he assumed the tightening of your hold on his hand meant that you felt the same.

He wanted to hold you. He wanted to wrap you up in bed and stay there with you until the world ended. He wanted your hands to be fused together so that he’d never have to be without you by his side ever again. But he also didn’t want to push you; this was your call – he would let you choose; always.

“I don’t want to be alone.” You admitted quietly, almost as if you were embarrassed by the admission.

Sirius gave your hand three quick squeezes – a code the two of you had made when you realized that Sirius sometimes struggled to express his feelings verbally.

“Three taps or squeezes means ‘I love you.’” You had said to him simply.

“Babe, every breath I take means ‘I love you.’” He countered before placing a searing kiss to your lips.

“Funny, that. Neither do I.” He replied.

“Stay with me?” You asked him, eyes shyly meeting his.

“I’d love nothing more.” He said, as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come on, love. Let’s try to get some sleep.”

James had tossed and turned all night, waking up in cold sweats. He had been eager each time to change Harry’s diaper or do a feeding, bouncing him a little longer than strictly necessary just to avoid having to be alone with his own thoughts again. But by the third time he woke Lily up in a panic, she’d kicked him out of the room.

“Potter, I love you, but if you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to live the rest of my life as a widow.” And with that, he was banished from their bedroom.

He padded his way down the hallway, poking his head into the other doors. The room in the middle of the hallways was vacant; probably Moony’s he mused. The next room was also empty, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone had been sleeping in here, but also couldn’t sleep.

He poked his head into the last room and spotted two figures curled up in the bed, holding onto each other as if one of them could float away at any moment.

There was a voice in James’ head that told him he should leave them; they were likely having just as hard a time sleeping as he was. Also, it’d be weird to join them. However, there was a louder voice in James’ head that was screaming to climb into bed with them; so that’s the one he listened to. James had never been very good with boundaries.

He crawled onto the other side of Sirius and slid under the covers.

“Are you serious right now?” He heard his mate mutter groggily.

James smirked as he curled up behind him. “No, you’re Sirius.”

Sirius groaned. “Five points from Gryffindor for the terrible joke that only I’m allowed to make, and another five points for touching me with your cold ass feet.” But he didn’t tell James to leave, so he took that as a win.

“How’s she?” He asked quietly.

“So good, considering.” Sirius answered.

“I can’t believe him...” James started quietly, but he needn’t finish; they both knew who he was talking about.

Sirius took a deep breath. “I feel, guilty. Bad. Y/N says I shouldn’t.”

“Of course she would, she’s perfect.” James offered easily.

Sirius smiled into the top of your sleeping head. “She is.” He agreed.

“I can’t believe she survived, all that time.”

The two men sat, marvelling at your perseverance. “I’m dying to know who her allies were.”

Sirius hummed. “Me too. I don’t know how to feel about them yet.”

James nodded. “That’s okay, I don’t much know how to feel about a lot of things.”

Sirius snorted and then tensed, worried about waking you, but your breath remained even.

“Do you blame me?”

Sirius eyes flew open at that.

“Pardon?”

James sighed before repeating himself. “Do you blame me, for Pete?”

“What about him.”

“Well, I’ve been wondering, would you and Remus ever had made friends with him had I not dragged him along with us?”

Sirius laughed. “Okay, if it were left up to Remus, no one would have ever talked to him ever and he would’ve made exactly zero friends, so I don’t think you’re asking the right questions.”

“Pads...”

“No. Of course not.” Sirius stated. James remained quiet and tense behind him.

“I think Peter made a choice. He made a lot of choices, but he made a choice.” He said as he thought of your earlier words. Don’t let him off the hook that easily. “He has a lot to atone for.”

He could feel James nod and they sat in silence for some time, watching the lights move from the street below them.

Sirius was pretty well asleep when James spoke up again.

“So, are you guys like, back together?”

Sirius scrunched his face. “What in the hells are you talking about?”

“You and Vix? Does this mean mom and dad are back together again?”

“James, she doesn’t remember me.”

“Well that just can’t be true.” James argued.

“Why’s that?”

“No one who doesn’t know you would let you sleep in their bed, Pads. You look like a bad idea.”

Sirius groaned. “She remembers some things.”

“Nice! Anything about me?” James asked excitedly.

“Yes.” You muttered sleepily. “I remember that you’re unbearably annoying.”

Sirius beamed and pressed a kiss to your hair.

Lily began to redecorate, though she muttered unhappily the entire time about not being able to run to the shops. Every wall was painted white, causing each space to look far brighter and bigger than it had before. James took down every framed piece of art and gave it to Harry and Sirius to paint over – what were once paintings full of dark objects and pureblood legacy were now Gryffindor logos, the Hogwarts castle, a golden snitch, owls, self-portraits, or, in Harry’s case, a big truck. (If you close your eyes, you can absolutely see it).

Sirius insisted the house was still chock full of “bad vibes”, but everyone else already felt less suppressed.

Your memories were slowly returning to you, and much to everyone’s chagrin and to his absolute delight, Remus seemed to be the first of your friends you completely unravelled.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” James cried.

“I’ve never been so offended in my life.” Sirius muttered.

Lily refused to speak on the matter...but she also (playfully) refused to speak a word to you at all.

“I mean, really, what’s Moons got that I don’t?” Sirius whined as he watched the golden coloured orb on your scan get accessed by the travelling lights without incident.

“Class, obviously.” Remus claimed haughtily.

“Oh, I’ll show you class.” Sirius barked before launching himself at Remus who was sitting in an armchair with a book in his hand.

The two boys men struggled with each other, Remus never leaving the armchair nor dropping his book, before Sirius began whining.

“Say it.” Remus said with a smirk.

“Moony!”

“Say it.”

“Uncle! Uncle!” Sirius cried and Remus released his hold on his arm.

“Real classy boys.” Lily said with a roll of her eyes.

It had been about a week since Vix had been home and it was about a week until the next full, so Remus could not figure out why he felt so itchy.

“Maybe you’ve got fleas.” James offered as he shoved roast potatoes in his mouth.

“I don’t have fleas, you sod.” Remus muttered.

“No, that’s usually a Padfoot problem.” Lily chortled

Sirius elicited a dramatic gasp and held his hand to his chest.

“I have never once in my life had flea’s you hag.”

“Don’t call my wife a hag!”

“Then tell her not to act like one!”

“Can we not do this at the dinner table?” You moaned with a roll of your eyes. Both men stopped the antics and looked down at their plates, shame faced.

“Sorry mum.” They chorused.

You smirked and looked over to Remus, who still looked unsettled. “It’s not usual for you to get like this, this far from the moon.” You commented.

“No.” Remus muttered miserably. “I don’t know, something just feels off.”

“Our world has been flipped upside down multiple times this week. I think it will take some time for us to get our bearings again.” Lily admitted.

The adults nodded in agreement; Harry shook his head violently.

“No? You don’t think so Haz?” James asked his son.

“No!” Harry squealed happily, lifting a handful of crushed roast potatoes in his hand.

“Don’t mind him. That’s his favourite word right now.�� Lily explained.

“Is miss finished?” Kreacher’s voice appeared beside you, causing you to jump in your seat.

“Oh!” You breathed, holding a hand to your chest. “Uhm, yes. Kreacher, thank you.”

The house-elf grunted and took your plate to the sink, before returning and pulling your chair out for you. James and Sirius shared a look at the odd behaviour.

“What are you doing, Kreacher?” Sirius asked.

You looked just as confused as Kreacher helped you stand.

“Kreacher has been asked to retrieve the mudblood.” He said plainly, and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you were gone.

Continue to part five here.

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders x reader #first wizarding war #first wizarding war fanfic #reader insert #escapism #self insert #canon divergence #hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet

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hyuckmov · 1 year

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haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby pt.2 read the first part here!

haechan x fem reader wc: 11k genre: fluff, smut 18+ minors dni warnings: chest/boobs/nipples fixation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex, choking, finger sucking, blowjobs, handjobs, mirror sex, overstimulation, a little bit of dacryphilia (crying), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics (haechan doing both), tittyfucking, thigh riding, this list is making me feel embarrassed minors dni i am so serious, breeding kink, a bit of saliva play i guess, aftercare , haechan is a mastermind male manipulator (in a cute way), me using mark as a plot device or: in which haechan is competitive (read: eager to please), and determined to find out what about him makes you lose all control

a/n: where do i even begin. writing this was so exhausting but also so rewarding at times but also i feel like i'm going to take a break from writing smut after this, i've literally written almost everything i could think of for this fic. i think what we liked from part 1 was haechan being needy and subby so i did add in scenes for that dw <3 i know i describe a lot of what they are thinking in this fic so hopefully it doesn't bore you... if it does... please sugarcoat it for me in your review (just kidding but also like...please don't be mean) anywayy... do send me an ask/reply if you liked this, as per tradition, i hope this is at least a little bit hot :) happy valentine's day!

haechan would say that his standard of living had increased exponentially since your second anniversary.

the two of you had become more open with each other, communicating your frustrations and needs more easily. there was also a faint buzz of something in the air, moments when you would look over at him and he would feel a blush spread across his cheeks, burn low in his stomach. it felt a little like he was falling in love with you for the first time — it had been a while since he had felt so vulnerable and loved by you.

"what are you thinking about?"

but perhaps the most significant improvement made to his life was the way he could now reflect on your loving and healthy relationship with his face nuzzled against your boobs.

"love you so much," he mumbles against your skin, placing a small kiss on your cleavage. "that's what i'm thinking about."

he feels your hand come down to stroke his hair gently, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. sunday mornings with you in bed: you scrolling through your phone while he's given the freedom to love on his favorite parts of you, have become just another routine that started ever since your second anniversary.

focusing on freckling kisses on your warm skin, he's then completely unprepared for when you card your fingers through a handful of his hair only to give it a light, but still significant, tug.

the sensation sends a feeling shooting down his spine, a slight shudder to his body as he lets out a small gasp muffled against your chest. feeling something stirring in the pit of his stomach, his legs twitching on the bed, he nuzzles his face into your chest.

"again, please," he mumbles.

he feels the giggles you let out at that right from where his face is pressed up against your chest. kicking his feet, he whines lightly in protest.

"what's so funny?"

"found something else you like," he hears you muse. "you're so sensitive, baby."

frowning, he sits up. the visual is slightly amusing — his hair mussed up, his lips swollen.

"it's not fair," he states. you reach out a consoling hand to him, and even as he continues to grumble, he still intertwines your fingers gently, a contrast between his unhappy tone and his tender actions. "you have too much power over me."

"what are you talking about?" you laugh, and he scowls.

"you know." he mumbles. "you can just flash your tits at me and i'd do anything you ask-"

"i can?"

"and now you know i like it when you pull at my hair," he whines, a permanent pout forming on his features. "it's like there's nothing i can do that makes you go crazy."

"that's because i love all of you," you soothe. "all of you makes me feel crazy."

"do you have any kinks you're keeping from me?"

"you're my kink," you tease, but your smile drops when he scowls. "sorry."

there's a pause. haechan looks at you, hard. scanning your face, his gaze doing a slow drag down and up your body, his expression darkening. something had shifted in the air, and suddenly you're a little scared to breathe too hard.

"haechan?"

"i'm going to find it," he breathes.

"what?"

"i'm going to find it, and then i'm going to make you beg for me to fuck your brains out."

"what the fuck?"

but haechan shakes his head, and when he next refocuses his eyes on you, his eyes have the familiar twinkle in them. moving over to you, he cups your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your cheek.

"love all of you too," he beams. "i'm going to go make breakfast, okay?"

and with that, he all but skips out of the room, leaving you sitting on the bed, feeling unsettled and also just a little bit excited.

the first time he tries it, it's a complete disaster.

it's not that haechan isn't good at observing you and what you like. when you go shopping together, he doubles back when you're not looking to take photos of items you've picked up to examine, making mental notes of their price and when he could get them for you. point something out to him, and haechan runs back to the store if you leave him alone for just a second, the bag hanging from his arm when he returns as he tries to hide how fast his heart is beating from sprinting. make an off-handed comment about how good a dish looks on instagram, and he's looking up the recipe before the video ends, and you can bet on the fact that you're having it for dinner the next day.

it's just that when it comes to him, he has no clue how to begin. you had laid out the perfect plan for him because you knew exactly what he wanted — meanwhile, he was starting from scratch.

so in the end his brain goes to the one thing you've told him you enjoyed. after all, considering how many times he's seen you fall apart on it, you must like his cock, right?

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"why are you so far away…" he whines, exaggerating his tone a little. you're seated on the other end of the couch, head against the arm rest, your laptop perched on your lap as you work on something. at his words, you lower the screen a bit, peeking over the top of your knees with your eyebrows raised.

"what's wrong?" you frown. "are you okay?"

"come here and sit on my lap," he says quickly, before the embarrassment can get to him. "i missed you," he adds, patting his thighs for emphasis.

that evening, he had chosen to put on a pair of gray sweatpants that usually left little to the imagination. he didn't wear them often for that exact reason, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. however, that was kind of at the top of his agenda right now.

shrugging, you make your way over to him, settling down in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. his chin rests on your shoulder as you open up your laptop again, typing in a few extra words on your document as mumble to yourself under your breath.

and then nothing.

haechan doesn't really know where to go from here. his plan had actually only involved one step: putting on the sweatpants. asking you to sit on his lap was already improvisation on his part, hoping that by getting you close he could hopefully get you to react. but here you were, sitting peacefully, happy in your boyfriend's warm touch.

unsure what to do, he figures he might as well get comfortable, bringing his arms around to hold your waist. feeling like this was turning out to be a complete bust, haechan sighs and buries his face in your neck, huffing a little as he wonders if he should just give up and spend a nice evening cuddling with you.

but then suddenly, haechan jolts. troubled by your slow progress at your work, you’ve started to absentmindedly fidget, wiggling your hips uneasily and even bouncing a little in his hold as you shift around some more. his arms reflexively tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat as he feels something stirring in his navel.

"y/n…"

"sorry." you whisper sheepishly, trying to keep still as you continue your work. but behind you, haechan is grinning as if christmas had come early.

"don't be," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. gripping your hips again, he begins to move you on his lap so that you're grinding down on him. "keep going, sweetheart."

you bite your lip. you really wanted to pay attention to haechan, the sinful way he began to rut against you and the feeling of him slowly getting hard creating a soothing haze in your mind. "i can’t. my work…" you mumble.

haechan freezes, thinking to himself. you weren't giving in yet. he wanted you to beg him, but so far he had initiated almost everything. "okay," he breathes, settling back down and removing his arms from your sides, even though he could feel himself getting hard. "okay, i'll stop. focus on your work, baby."

confused, and a little worried — because when haechan wanted something he usually never stopped to get it, — you try to snap out of it. "maybe i'll go work in the bedroom…" you suggest reluctantly.

"sure," he replies, easily. crossing his fingers and hoping you didn't truly mean it.

but before he knows it, you're standing up, the absence of your weight on him making him feel doubly empty as you begin to walk unsteadily back to your room. a slightly sad expression on your pretty features, the tension in the air making it difficult for you to look at him.

it's the look on your face that makes haechan forget all about his mission.

"y/n wait-" his voice is high-pitched and breathy. he was more affected than he realized he was.

at the sound of his voice, you turn around. immediately putting your laptop down on the dining table, you all but run back to your eager boyfriend, skidding slightly on the floor. clambering back into his lap, this time straddling his waist, you smile as he leans in to kiss you, frustration making his movements a little rougher than usual.

punching him lightly on the shoulder, you glare at him for playing with your feelings. "did you really want me to go…?" nervously, you fiddle with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"no," he says firmly, kissing you again and pressing you closer. "never."

you beam at him, happy you had such a sensitive and caring boyfriend. anyone else would have found your reaction laughable, but haechan just got you. it warmed your heart to no end.

"y/n…" pulling you back to the current situation, haechan gently thrusts up, reminding you he was still hard. "can i…?"

"yes," you say, excitement making your reply come out rushed and flustered. "please."

smiling to himself, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, pressing his fingers hesitantly to the seat of your panties before he falters.

"you're so wet," he breathes, tugging your panties to the side too so he can stroke your folds with his long fingers. rubbing quick circles into your clit, he pulls you down by your shirt so he can kiss you heatedly.

holding on to him, you feel your thighs start to tremble, unable to hold yourself up with the feeling of his hand between your legs. as he runs a finger along your slit, rough fingertips sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, you lean your weight almost entirely on him. "please, -" you gasp, not sure what you were asking for, but somehow he's even more desperate than you.

a groan rumbles from his chest as he impatiently lifts you off his lap, maneuvering you so you take a seat on the couch. scrambling to kneel on the floor between your legs, he pulls you to the edge and pushes your legs upwards, practically folding your body. your feet planted on the couch, your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he tugs off your shorts and panties, leaving you completely exposed to him. the sight makes him moan out again, and he pauses.

"can i lick you?" breathlessly, and almost in a trance, he presses a kiss to your thigh, arms coming up to hook around your thighs and keep them open. "pussy's so pretty baby…" he murmurs, blowing air on your clit and making you tilt your hips towards his mouth. "i just know it'll taste sweet."

"don't tease," you plead. haechan's only ever done this a few times and on special occasions, usually more for you than for him. but when you look at the way his eyes are glazing over, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips hesitantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do.

"wouldn't dream of it." and with that he dives in, his tongue flat and wide as he licks up your arousal. alternating between flicking at your clit and lapping at your entrance, his moans fall from his open mouth freely, muscles in his arms flexing as he presses you further in the couch and tries to keep your hips from bucking up into him.

when you feel him dip his tongue into your tight entrance, your hands fly to his hair, curling on his strands around your fingers. the feeling going straight to his cock, he whimpers as he loosens a hand to ease a finger into you, his mouth suckling on your clit.

"haechan-"

"cum for me," his mouth detaches from you sloppily, and you swallow as you see his chin dripping with your juices, his lips wet with saliva. "wanna feel you cum on my fingers so bad…" dipping his head back down, he flicks at your clit harshly, his fingers pressing against your walls. you feel your back arch off the sofa as your thighs clamp down around his head, his tongue still working on you as you cum, hard.

your hips buck against his face and his nose bumps against your clit as he kitten licks at your folds, lightly overstimulating you as you ride out your high. pushing his head away gently, you’re just beginning to put down your legs when you're startled by his hand, shooting out to prevent them from closing entirely. grasping your thigh.

"please?" haechan's eyes are blown out and wide as he rises up on his knees, his hands trembling slightly as they move higher up your thighs. "i'm so hard…" you take in the way his hips absentmindedly move against the edge of the sofa seat. fully hard in those sweatpants, looking absolutely sinful the way he chases any form of friction.

"of course," you breathe, lying back on the couch as he enthusiastically tugs down his sweatpants, his cock slapping up against his navel, the tip red and leaking precum. propping himself up with a hand, the other gripping onto your waist, he closes his eyes as he slides in, the two of you letting out moans as you shiver from the sensitivity. before you know it, he's fucking you into the couch, whines falling from his lips freely, rising in pitch as his eyes screw tightly shut. you close your eyes too, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders, the feeling of him stretching you out pushing you close to your climax again.

haechan has completely lost all grip on reality. he feels your walls sucking him in, wrapping around him so tightly he can't even pull out properly. the rhythm of his thrusts jagged and needy, his hips rutting into you in a frenzy, he's only able to last a few more seconds before he's cumming, his hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around him again. his throat is hoarse, and he wonders if he was screaming instead of moaning. under him, you're also coming down from your high, smiling as you see how winded he is.

"you okay?" tapping him gently on the cheek, you give him a small kiss on his cheek as he blinks dazedly at you. "haechan?" you give him another kiss.

"yeah-" he mumbles. "fuck." he realises he's still pressed on you, so he gets up, giving you more space to sit up and breathe. as he collapses on the other side of the couch, he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles, lips still sticky. "was i too rough?" he murmurs, worriedly. "i'm sorry, i just really lost control at the end-"

"it was perfect," you assure him, crawling over so you can hold him. "i liked it," you smile.

his expression clears, and his eyes crinkle into a smile that mirrors yours as he kisses you sweetly on the tip of your nose. "you were perfect," his eyes sappy with love, he feels sleepiness overcome his body. "i'll run a bath and we can relax after, okay?"

it's only after the bath, and after the impromptu supper he makes for you, when the two of you are in bed, when he realizes that he's completely lost the plot. today's attempt had told him nothing, except maybe he was going to get addicted to the feeling of eating you out.

looking at your sleeping form in bed, a light smile ghosting on your lips and the glow of being taken care of by your boyfriend shining on your face, he shakes his head and decides that for now it doesn't matter. he'll figure it out eventually, he knew he would.

the second time haechan tries it, he starts out slow.

"your fingers are so pretty."

you're out running errands with him, and as the two of you stroll back to the car, his fingers brush yours and he takes your palm in his. now, holding up your clasped hands to examine his fingers, you smile sweetly at him. "i think you have really pretty finger joints."

"yeah?" it's a small compliment, but haechan always liked being praised, even for the smallest things. "thank you, baby."

he doesn't want to build any expectations for himself, or expect any reaction from you immediately. he's sure that that's what went wrong with the first attempt. did he really expect you to fall to his feet when you saw him in those sweatpants? it was silly. it was childish. haechan could do better than that.

he starts out by not taking off his rings when he's around the house, hoping that the sight of them on his pretty finger joints could stir something in you. so far, nothing. (although you did ask him if you could get another set of couple rings together. he said yes.)

he starts picking up activities which show off his fingers more. asking you if you wanted to watch him play the piano, or the guitar. still mostly nothing, although the activities did bring you closer together, his cheeks burning as you praised him for his talent.

happy that your boyfriend was sharing his interests with you, you asked him to help you with your baking, wanting to reciprocate with your own creative date-night ideas. he was nothing but sweet to you when you brought up the idea, accompanying you to the store for ingredients and helping you set up the kitchen. sure, he seemed to want to hold your hand throughout almost the whole thing, following you around the kitchen like a lost puppy, but once you assigned him to the task of melting the chocolate the two of you fell into a nice rhythm, his soft humming filling the kitchen as he busies himself with the hot water.

"is the chocolate ready?"

"yeah," he mumbles, lips pouting with concentration. he looks up to see you smiling at him, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch him stir the melted chocolate a few times.

and suddenly, he knows exactly what to do.

dipping two fingers in the chocolate, he holds it up to your lips. "wanna taste?" he asks, as casually as he can.

flustered, you swat his hand away gently. "i can do that myself," you try, shyly.

"come on," he urges you. his eyes, which have been zeroed in on your lips, flicker up to your eyes and you can see them glint. "just a taste," he says, softly.

inside, his heart is beating hard against his chest. although it was only the two of you in the kitchen, he could tell from the way you looked at his fingers that you were flustered, hesitating over the idea of sucking on his fingers so boldly. if he could just get you to do this…

he watches with bated breath as you swallow, inching forwards. grabbing his wrist to keep his hand steady, you stick out your tongue to lick at his fingers cautiously. you're just able to taste a hint of the chocolate, when haechan pushes forward and his fingers are enveloped in the warmth of your mouth.

"now come on," he breathes, a thrill running down his spine as he sees your eyes widen. gently but firmly, he continues to hold your gaze. "suck."

this was it. a smile spreads across his face as you begin to suck on his fingers obediently, looking up at him through your lashes. he'd won. except…he wasn't really sure anymore, what with the way your tongue was now swirling around his fingers as you continued to lick them clean. the feeling of it foreign yet familiar, making his breath catch in his throat as he’s reminded of the fact that it had been a while since you’ve sucked him off.

but while he was still struggling to figure out who had the upper hand, you already released his fingers with a pop, looking at him knowingly as you went back to measuring ingredients.

a pause.

shaking his head a few times to steady himself, he tried to stay confident, putting on his cockiest smile as he sidled up to you.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"did you like that?"

"like what?"

"you know what," he wraps a hand around your wrist to halt your movements, pushing your measuring scale and various other bowls to the side so you focus on him. "did you like sucking on my fingers?"

"haechan…"

"i felt what you were doing with your tongue, baby." he relishes the way you can't look him in the eyes. "i know you liked my fingers, but i didn't know you liked them that much…" he muses, voice low. a heavy hand snakes up to rub your waist. "wonder if you would like my hands somewhere else…" a flicker of need courses through his body as the words leave his mouth, his hands wandering up to your chest to palm your boobs. "or…" he trails off, biting his lip to try to keep his thoughts to himself.

confused as to why he had gone silent, you finally look up at him, feeling your eyes widen in surprise to see that haechan's demeanor had done a total shift entirely on his own. rather than the usual hard stare and stony expression that accompanies his low tones and rough touches, his lashes flutter with need, teeth tugging mindlessly on his lip as he is completely and wholly distracted by the soft feeling of your chest in his palm.

"haechan?" you prompt him.

"fuck, sorry-" he blurts out, unsure of what he was apologizing for. "it's just…", breathily, he scrabbles at your bra, tugging it down so he can touch your nipples. "they fit perfectly in my palms…" and there it is: the familiar pitch of his voice that tells you he's going to start whining soon.

you can't help but laugh at him, amused as much as you are in awe of him. "did you really just dirty talk yourself into this state?"

"yes. wait, i mean, no-" troubled, he furrows his brow as you begin to take off your shirt. "uh…"

"we can discuss this later," you soothe, leading him out of the kitchen, the idea of baking long forgotten.

1.12 am, haechan: don't get distracted by boobs. 1.12am, haechan: don’t look at boobs. 1.13am, haechan: don't touch boobs. 1.13am, mark: what the fuck ?????

“you taste good,” you murmur, touching his cheeks lightly as you lean in to kiss him again in the darkness.

eagerly, haechan sits up. you’re startled by the sudden movement, blinking at him blearily, but soon you’re being tugged up and into his lap, him rearranging your legs haphazardly so you’re straddling him as he leans against the headboard.

“what-?”

but haechan kisses you before you can finish your sentence, his remarkably soft and pillowy lips moving against yours with a soft fervor.

“feel good?” he asks, expectantly.

“yeah…” you mumble, a little dazed.

“used a lip scrub,” he states, proudly, kissing you again to punctuate the point. “and i’ve been using a lip sleeping mask for the past 2 days.”

“you taste like strawberry,” you point out, weakly.

“lip balm,” he breathes, almost buzzing with excitement. “you like?”

“yes,” you smile at him, endeared by how happy he was. you lean in, kissing him again, sucking gently on his bottom lip and making him sigh into your mouth. pulling away, you fail to notice the way his eyes light up in anticipation, only to flicker with confusion as you dip your head to snuggle into his hold. burying your face in his chest, you give him a gentle pat as you close your eyes, ready to return to the peaceful state of dozing off you were at when he had first kissed you goodnight. “sleep well, baby.”

his puffy lips, his puffy sweet strawberry-scented smooth lips, pucker slightly into a pout. “y/n?”

“hm?”

“you don’t wanna kiss me more?” he whispers, the words a little pathetic in the silence of the room.

“tomorrow, baby.” you assure him, stifling a yawn as you feel yourself drop off. “sweet dreams.”

sighing, he pats you gently on the back as if you were a baby, lulling you to sleep. this really wasn’t as easy as he thought it was going to be.

sweet dreams he thinks bitterly to himself, closing his eyes too.

all the thinking was taking a toll on haechan's brain.

he was good at games, he was good at strategy. but the thing was, this felt less like a game and more like an experiment: the observation required, the long-term planning, introducing new variables, and analyzing your reactions to see if his actions had the desired outcome.

he tried revisiting the hand thing.

"look at how pretty my fingers look around your neck."

he slides his fingers out from between your legs slowly, smearing your arousal on your thighs before coming up to steer your chin back towards the mirror. the image is so lewd that you want to look away again — you, wearing only his shirt. haechan's chest pressed up against your back, you sitting between his spread legs, your thighs propped apart by his own. one of his hands squeezes lightly on your throat as the other trails back down, two fingers stretching you out as much as he can.

choked moans fall from your lips as you shake in his hold when you cum, his rings digging into your throat. he releases you almost at once, letting you come down from your high as air floods back into your lungs, murmuring praises into your hair as he cleans you up, while you were too tired and hoarse to speak.

but that was that. you never brought it up with him or requested he do it again, although he knows that if he asked you wouldn't deny him. so he filed it away for next time.

he tried thinking of things he loved about you. he loved to kiss your neck — so he tried wearing necklaces, tilting his head back more to showcase his jawline, encouraging you to kiss him there. but the most you'd done was ask him if his neck felt sore.

it was a friday, and haechan decided to leave work early, to see if he could get a headstart on a new lead he had. you had stared a lot at his legs the other night when he had taken you out for dinner, saying they looked pretty in the skinny jeans he was wearing. if that wasn't a directive, he didn't know what was.

and so he made a short detour on his way home, stopping by the mall to pick out a pair of ripped skinny jeans. he liked the way they hugged his thighs, the slivers of soft skin that showed underneath.

that's how you find him, when you arrive home. standing in front of the bedroom mirror, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror.

"i'm home…" you call out, before stopping. in the mirror, haechan can see your eyes widen and his heartbeat quickens with excitement. you're clearly distracted, unable to tear your eyes away from his legs. was this it?

meanwhile, you can't stop staring at your boyfriend. usually in sweatpants or baggy jeans, you haven't seen him dressed like this in a while. there are so many rips in the jeans he practically didn't have to wear them, and yet somehow they're positioned in a way that made you want to suck bruises onto his smooth skin.

your eyes flicker up to his, narrowing slightly when you see the expression of pure unadulterated glee that takes over his features. the corner of his lips quirked up smugly, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

and it just flips a switch in you.

"did you dress like this for me?" you ask, softly. walking over to him, you tug him closer by the belt loops of his jeans, leaning in so your lips brush his. "did you want my attention that badly?"

haechan falters. this was not how it was supposed to go.

"can't think of an answer?" you mock. trailing your fingers down to his thighs, you scrape at the exposed skin there with your fingernails, making him jolt. "you were so confident just now, baby…" you pinch him, and he sucks in a breath. "what happened?"

"i…" at the sight of you tugging your shirt off, his splutters out in alarm. "wait! don't-" feeling stupid, but panic overtaking his brain, he squeezes his eyes shut. "don't take off your shirt."

you burst out into genuine laughter. getting more and more flustered by the second, he slowly opens his eyes, peeping a few times to make sure your shirt remains on. "don't make fun of me," he mumbles. "it's just that, i get really distracted if i see them, and-"

"oh i know," you assure him, kissing his cheek. "i mean, i was going to let you fuck them, but i'll just suck you off instead."

"what?"

he protests the entire time as you push him to take a seat on the edge of the bed, babbling on and on about how this was supposed to be about you. however, the moment you take your position, kneeling between his legs as you reach out to palm him through his jeans, he falls silent.

"these are new…" he mumbles, weakly. he can't help the way his hips begin to squirm under your touch.

"aww…" you squeeze him tighter over the denim and he whimpers. "bought them just for me?"

"yeah…" he admits, swallowing hard. "y/n…can you…"

you finish his thought by undoing the buttons on his jeans, tugging down the zipper as he lifts his hips obediently, tugging the material down to free his hard on. when he starts to remove his jeans entirely, you place a hand on his to stop him. grinning at him, you place a light kiss on his thigh.

"i really like these jeans," you explain.

you can feel haechan's eyes on you as if he were in a trance. looking up at him, you coo at the sight: his mouth hanging slightly open, drool spilling around his mouth from how he's been licking and tugging at his bottom lip from just the feeling of you touching him over his jeans. reaching a hand up, you wipe his saliva off with your fingers as if he were a baby, his tongue darting out to lick at your fingers. indulging him, you push them into his mouth: full, heart-shaped lips, wrapping around your knuckles as he sucks obediently.

extracting your fingers from his mouth, you comfort him with a pat on the cheek as slowly, and with a light touch, you start to rub at the pink tip of his cock with your wet fingers. the stimulation makes his legs jump, and he lets out a cry, hands scrabbling and twisting at the sheets. neediness seeping out from all the pores in his body, your hand becoming slick with his precum as you pick up the pace, giving him longer strokes along his shaft.

you look up at him, and his face is contorted with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. his head thrown back, you can see his adam's apple bobbing as he gasps for air.

"do you like your reward, baby?" you tease, taking your hands off his cock to dig your nails into his thigh instead. the feeling makes him wail, eyes opening to focus on you, blinking away the spots in his vision.

he nods, still gasping for breath. "don't stop," he manages. "please, don't stop."

"i'll take care of you, baby, i promise" you ease, hands going back to stroke him, although at a much gentler pace. "keep your eyes on me, okay? i want you to think of this every time you see these jeans…" you take his tip into your mouth, pressing your tongue into his slit. and without any warning, his hips buck into your face and he's cumming messily, all over your mouth and chin.

"sorry," he moans, unable to control himself. "fuck, i'm sorry,-" his words are twisted into a loud cry at the sudden feeling of both of your hands on him. cum makes the slide easier as you twist your wrists in opposite directions, watching as haechan's whole body spasms — his movements jerky, grabbing at your arms to push you away while his hips continue to thrust forward into the pleasure. you feel a sense of excitement rush through you too as you survey how his thighs shake, muscles in his legs spasming.

"thought you told me not to stop," you bite your lip, putting on a confused expression. "i promised i'd take care of you."

haechan is too far gone to respond. tears begin to run down his cheeks as he cums again, globs of cum oozing from his slit. finally stopping your movements for good, you climb up onto the bed next to him, letting him reach for you and pull you close. his tears stain the shirt on your shoulder, and you run your hands through his hair to soothe him.

finally, his breathing evens out and he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

feeling a little guilty, you brush the hair out of his eyes as you try to read his expression. "are you okay?" you ask, softly.

he gives you a dopey smile. "yeah," he kisses you again, letting the feeling of your lips moving against his ground him. his hands ghost over your thighs, and he starts to pull you into his lap. "you want me to return the favor…?"

"no, it's okay." smiling at him, you cup his face in your hands before you realize that your palms are still filthy with drool and cum. "we should probably get cleaned up…" you murmur.

"i'm never wearing any other pair of jeans," he sighs, contentedly, letting you guide him towards the bathroom.

later that night, haechan is lying in bed, reflecting on what just happened. sure, he hadn't gotten you needy and desperate, and in fact he'd done all of the begging, but this was definitely a step in the right direction. it was the biggest reaction he'd gotten from you yet, one that was entirely initiated by you, his cheeks warming at the memory.

"haechan?"

"yes?"

"can we talk?"

"of course, baby." clearing his head of his thoughts, he pulls you in closer to him, heart warming at the feeling of you snuggling up to him. "is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say in a small voice. "but i wanted to ask you if you're okay."

hearing the soft concern in your voice, he tries to remember if he said anything to you about feeling upset, or unhappy, but nothing comes to mind.

"yeah i'm fine," he frowns. you look up at him with skeptical eyes, and he lifts a hand from where it's wrapped around you to stroke your hair, hoping to comfort you. "what's wrong?"

"it's just this whole…" you sigh. "you trying to find ways to make me feel good."

"is it too much?" panic starts to seep into his brain as he runs through the things he's done with you, and to you, these past few weeks. he's sure he made sure you were comfortable with everything, but there was always the possibility that you were appeasing him. maybe he'd gone a little too far with the choking. "i can stop if you want, i didn't think-"

"no, that's not it-" you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. "i'm okay, everything's okay." moving up a little bit on the bed, you press a soft, close-lipped kiss against his lips. it takes a few seconds, his body still frozen with uncertainty, before he relaxes and kisses you back, deepening the kiss and holding on to you tightly.

"i just hope you know that i love you, so much," you say when he pulls away. "and, you don't have to do anything special to make me feel crazy about you."

"y/n…"

"i meant what i said that day," you insist. "i know i've mostly been in control recently, and you think i have so much control over you now…but i want you to know that even before our second anniversary i've been just as obsessed with you."

shyly, haechan bites his lip in thought, your words making him feel more flustered than he would have expected.

"see?" you continue. "i think you look so pretty when you bite your lip. and i love your hands…" you reach for his palms and place a soft kiss to his knuckles. "love your fingers, no matter what you're doing with them. love your legs, love your moles…"

"okay, okay." he buries his face into his pillow, a warm glow spreading through his body at your praise. "you can stop now," he murmurs.

"love all of you." you finish, burying your face in his chest again. "love everything you do, so don't worry, okay?" you mumble, sleep slowly taking over your body as a weight is lifted off your chest. watching haechan observe your reactions extra carefully has been endearing, and being on the receiving end of his constant affection has you dizzy in more ways than you show. you just hoped that his relentless attempts to please you and read your mind didn't mean he felt unconfident about how much you loved him.

but haechan doesn't respond. a sense of disappointment blooms in his chest, and he can't for the life of him figure out why he felt so forlorn. it had seemed so simple: he wanted to find out how he could have you needy and eager for him, just as he was with you. just like you had tested out his obsession with your boobs — and at the thought, his hand guiltily strays downwards to palm you over your shirt, needing at least some form of comfort on this confusing night, — he had tested you. and while you responded eagerly to whatever he did, there was no denying that you didn't usually initiate it, and he doesn't know if he would classify your behavior as needy in the way he wanted you to be.

maybe he just needed to tease you a little more. or maybe he needed to deny you pleasure just as you were about to cum. maybe, if he initiated it, and then suddenly left to do something else-

"you're thinking so loud, baby," he snaps out of it with a jolt, feeling you shift in his hold, your eyes opening groggily and a pretty pout settling on your lips. "go to sleep, please," you groan.

haechan lets out a groan of his own. "i'm confused…" he mumbles.

"about?"

but he shakes his head. you've already reassured him, and honestly he thinks he'll go crazy if he hears you profess your love to him again.

drumming your fingers on his chest, you hum lightly, thinking to yourself. "will you feel better if i let you fuck my tits?"

"yes please," haechan sighs, sitting up and shaking the sleepiness from his body before clambering over to straddle you, practiced hands pushing your shirt up.

and as he lets out a soft wail — feeling you licking at his tip when he thrusts all the way up your cleavage, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your soft breasts, — he almost believes he's okay with giving up this game he set for himself.

almost.

haechan spins the controller in his hand and waits for his next game to load.

he had let the whole thing fall from his mind. he'd gotten some pretty good sex out of it, and he felt closer to you than ever before, and that was all that really mattered in the end. now, he could actually focus on his favorite past-times without wondering what you were doing, could wake up each day and not stress over what he should wear. he was sure he would get over the disappointment, pushing the uneasiness from his mind completely as he slumps further down in his gaming chair and starts to think about how to get past his opponent instead.

faintly, he can hear the door push open behind him. you must have entered the room. "hey," he calls out. "i just started another round but i can come spend time with you after i'm done, okay?"

no response. weird, but maybe you were distracted with your phone.

"i was thinking," he continues. "do you want me to cook dinner or should we order in? i've been craving pasta but i need to know if you prefer mine or-" but he cuts himself off when he notices you hovering next to his computer, a large oversized shirt hanging from your frame. it's the look on your face that makes him forget everything about dinner or pasta or cooking.

"y/n?" he blinks. "what's wrong?"

"i need you," your soft voice whiny.

"um…" surprised, he's taken aback as you sit yourself down on his lap, straddling one of his thighs. he drops his controller clumsily, arms coming around to hold you as the game goes on ignored behind your back. "are you hurt? or is it…do you-" he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels your wet core moving on his bare thigh. you're not wearing anything except for the shirt.

you start moving, rolling your hips onto his firm muscle as if it were second nature, your eyes locking with his and he gulps at the desperation in them, pleading with your expression for him to help you.

"fuck, baby, what's gotten into you?" what should he do? panicked, he sits up in his seat, the movement making his thigh muscle tense and you let out a whine, your swollen clit extra sensitive at the feeling. "baby, not here," he coaxes, alarm in his tone as he wonders if you're going to cum right then and there. his hands going to your waist, he feels you press down harder on him, your moans increasing in pitch as you ride his thigh without a care in the world, egged on by the feeling of his skin on yours.

"baby, wait, get off for a moment, let's get on the bed," he tries to move again and it jostles you, and you roll your hips even faster.

"don't care," you whine. "need you now. wanna cum now…" tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. you're so frustrated that it hurts, you needed him so badly but it's like he'd forgotten how to touch you entirely. "haechan," you groan. "i need your fingers, anything…" the hot friction on your clit making you fall forwards, burying your face in his neck.

still flustered, haechan tries his best to help you out, wracking his brain of what to do. tensing his thigh muscles, he bounces you gently on his leg, one hand steadying you and the other scraping lightly across your nipples, just the way you like it. gasping at the sudden stimulation, you whimper in his ear to let him know you were close, your arms grabbing haechan's hands and guiding him to move your hips for you.

you cum just like that, a high whine and your body shuddering, haechan continuing to bounce you on his thigh to help you ride it out. as you recover, he realizes that he's winded and breathless too, the reality of what just happened sweeping over him.

but what exactly just happened?

"if you don't mind me asking…" he panted.

you nodded, still in your head. "yeah?"

blinking up at you politely, he licks his lips nervously before asking, "what did i do? and, how do i do it again?"

shaking your head you hug him before clambering off his lap. "like i said," you reassure him with a kiss on his cheek before you stumble off to clean yourself up. "i love all of you."

"you guys need to leave me out of your sex life," mark grumbles, the moment the call connects. "i want the best for you, dude, but i'm not that invested in your personal happiness, okay?"

haechan scoffs at that. "firstly, it's not like i'm not privy to your sex life. been a good boy for mommy recently?"

"i was just-!"

"and secondly," continues haechan, ignoring mark's splutters and protests, "you owe me."

"i owe you?"

"haechan's fucking obsessed with your tits…" he mocks in a clumsy voice, scowling at the memory. "you gave her an unfair advantage-"

"i don't sound like that-"

"so you owe me. now help me figure this out." before mark can think of some other way of protesting, haechan begins to ramble on and on about his feelings for you, and the dynamic in the relationship as of late. he analyses your reactions to him, the varied success in his attempts to get you riled up, your conversation together when you convinced him to drop the matter.

"but then, this morning i swear i'm just doing nothing-" he cuts himself off, feeling his breath hitch as the vivid memory hits him with full force. remembering how it sounded when you begged for him. the feeling of you moving on his thigh, of you guiding his hand to your core.

everything he ever wanted, and he had no idea how he got it in the first place.

mark is staring at him blankly. "this morning…?" he prompts.

"nothing," haechan shakes his head quickly. "basically, she kind of jumped me, and i'm still trying to figure out why."

"jumped you like in a bad way…or-"

"in a really good way," haechan mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. not wanting to describe exactly how it felt for you to use his body like that, when he wasn't even trying.

"okay, uh, cool." mark nods a few times, frowning slightly to himself. "you sure you were doing nothing?"

"i was playing a game in my room."

"could've been the gaming?" mark suggests, half-heartedly.

"but i do that all the time," haechan sighed. "she doesn't do that with me every time." if only it were that easy, he would have you figured out in 3 seconds flat.

"what were you wearing?"

"just some shorts and a shirt."

"could've been your thighs…?" mark tries. "she told me she loved your thighs."

"could be…" distracted, haechan blinks. "wait. my thighs?"

"yep," mark winces. "i won't quote exactly what she said, because i don't want to hear myself saying that to you, but just take my word for it."

haechan thinks about it, hard. but then he shakes his head. "fuck, i think i did it wrong. i mean i tried legs and it didn't work, and i thought thighs were included in legs for obvious reasons, but-"

"or maybe it just had nothing to do with you," mark shrugs, reaching for his drink to take a sip. "maybe she's just ovulating or something."

"she's just what?" haechan balks.

"um…ovulating." mark freezes, immediately wishing he hadn't brought it up. to hell with haechan's sex life. "it affects the hormones and it might results in a higher sex drive for her or-" he cuts himself off when he notices that haechan is staring at him, stock-still in his seat. "um…it's part of her menstrual cycle…?" mark tries.

haechan looks at him blankly.

"basically, it's like when her ovaries-" mark winces. "dude, i'm not about to explain your girlfriend's ovaries to you."

"but i can't ask her," haechan finally speaks up.

flustered, mark runs his hand through his hair a couple of times before deciding to just rip the band-aid off. haechan could be very persistent if he wanted to be, and he didn't want his phone blowing up with texts about this.

"basically, in the days leading up to her…um…her period, her hormones levels are messed up because her body's preparingforababy," mark rushes through the sentence, hoping to god his girlfriend wasn't currently standing outside his room, listening to him poorly explain what a woman's menstrual cycle was.

thankfully, haechan gets it on the first listen. "so she might be extra…"

"yeah," mark cuts in, feeling his face burn. somehow, haechan seems to be taking in this information extremely calmly, as if he were sitting in a life sciences class. "um, so, can i go now?"

"sure," haechan says, absentmindedly. "thanks mark-" but the call ends before he can finish the words.

slowly shutting the screen of the laptop, haechan stares at the empty wall before him and just thinks. could it really be that your neediness this morning wasn't a result of his doing at all? he tries to think back to previous months, because if mark was correct, this wouldn't be the first time this has happened: but for some reason, he can't recall a thing. he's always too lost in the feeling of you to ever notice things like what day it was happening on or whether it mirrored your behavior from previous months. scheming and plotting was truly not his style.

what exactly was he trying to do with this experiment? was he really trying to find a way to get to you just as you had to him? but he did have you just the way he wanted. this morning had proven that.

so what if he couldn't figure out if it was his hands or his thighs? you had promised all of you to him. said you loved all of him just the same.

so maybe it was time to make good on that promise.

haechan has been on his phone the whole day.

normally, you wouldn't really mind. he was so loving and attentive all of the time, that a little bit of absent-mindedness didn't bother you. it's just that today, you wish he were paying a bit more attention to you, especially because you can't seem to get him out of your mind - what with it being your peak day of ovulation.

the thing is, haechan was always somehow so attuned to you that he never left you feeling restless and needy. you rarely had to ask him for anything, because he would always deliver of his own accord — wanting you as much as you wanted him. it had been fun, in the weeks leading up to your second anniversary, seeing how riled up you could get him, and exactly how far he would go. even while he claimed to be doing the same to you, he was still the one to initiate everything, leaving you more than satiated afterwards, each time. and although his efforts had unsettled you, you'd eventually told him, hoping that it wasn't some underlying miscommunication or problem in your relationship causing the sudden eagerness to take you anywhere and everywhere.

and ever since, nothing. chaste kisses on cheeks, arms around your waist while you cuddled. somehow, subtly, control had shifted back to him as you waited on his next move, waited for the next time he would approach you to try something. you suspected he didn't even know that he had control, skipping around the apartment, unaware that you were practically begging for him to make a move.

this morning, you couldn't take it anymore. your dreams the previous night punctuated by visuals of haechan eating you out, of him letting you ride his thighs, of him playing with your chest. the moment you heard him in the next room, raspy voice ordering his teammates around, and the moment you caught sight of him in his shorts, you had decided to indulge in your own needs, to hell with waiting for your boyfriend to take care of you.

but almost an entire afternoon had passed since then, and you could feel the space between your legs getting wet again, your brain flitting back to the scenes from your dream. shuffling into your bedroom, you see haechan lounging on the bed, disappointment flickering at the back of your mind when you release he had put on some sweatpants instead. still on his phone, he barely looked up at you when you approached him.

"haechan?"

raising his head to look at you, he raises his eyebrows. you falter as you see his closed off expression.

"yes?" he responds, softly.

swallowing, you press on, sitting down opposite him. "can you…can you please…" you take a deep breath, fiddling with the edge of your shirt before you realize that yes, that was the perfect way to get him to notice you. removing your shirt quickly, you see him look up from his phone, his eyes flickering down to look at your bare chest, lingering slightly before moving back up to your face.

"can i please…?" he repeats, face devoid of expression.

you balk. haechan never acted like this with you. embarrassment, and a little bit of indignance, rises up in you, and you have to stop yourself from whining. "you know," you bite your lip, imploring him to understand.

he sighs. "speak in full sentences, baby." going back to his phone, he clicks on a new tab. "i can't read your mind."

"i need you," you blurt out, feeling delight rush through your body as he looks up at you. finally.

but he makes no effort to move. "why?"

confused, you make an impatient sound. "what do you mean, why?"

"why are you suddenly so needy?" he asks, voice steady and calm. his eyes stare at you, gaze unwavering. "was it something i did? or did something happen to you?"

"i don't know what you mean…" you hesitate, but your answer doesn't mean anything because he's not really listening. setting his phone down, he pushes you onto your back with a slight roughness, crawling over to you.

"thought i was doing it for you, baby-" he confesses, quietly. "trying to figure out if you liked my fingers, or my thighs…seeing if you liked it when i use you…" towering over you, he takes in the tension in your body, your shaky breaths as his fingers trail up your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"but i was wrong," he muses. you hang onto his every word, mind attuned to the syllables falling from his lips, body sparking at his slightest touch.

"haechan…"

"was doing it for me," he breathes. "i wanted to see you this fucked out before i even touch you." his hand caresses your upper thigh, tutting lowly under his breath. "messy baby, dripping all over the sheets…"

unable to take it anymore, you try to sit up and move towards him, pushing your body up on your elbows, but haechan's hand whips out and he shoves you back down onto your back with a firm palm.

"don't move." he soothes, but there's a warning in his tone. slowly, he eases your legs apart to settle down in between them, and you whimper slightly from how he manages to make you feel so exposed.

"when was the last time you'd been good for me, hm?" his thumb traces soft circles on your soft skin. "i give you a little bit of power and it goes to your head…doesn't it, pretty?" his face leans closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he speaks.

"it doesn't-" your voice trembles, as his palms press down firmly on your thighs, spreading you open wider.

"have me touching your tits, stroking you all the time," he breathes. "does it feel that good?"

"i-"

"thought you were letting me use you, but all this time you were using me," he ignores you. "all i wanted was for you to sit on my lap and beg for me…" suddenly, his hand moves, and you feel a sharp sting as he flicks at your clit with his thumb and forefinger over your panties. a loud whimper leaves your mouth as you feel your thighs jerk, and embarrassingly more of your arousal seeps out onto the sheets. your hand reaches out, trying to hold on to his wrist so he stops teasing you, but gently, and almost lazily, his other hand manages to grasp both your wrists in his hand.

"but no matter what i tried…" he continues, and you can tell he's saying it for himself more than you. his hand moving as if on instinct, his fingers beginning to stroke your folds over the fabric, paying no attention to the way you trembled and squirmed at his touch. "you would still sit there on the couch, waiting for me to come take you…"

"i'm sorry-" you sob, your throat closing up.

"you're so spoiled." and for the first time this evening, he kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips. you tilt your head, trying to catch his lips with yours, mouth open and ready, but already he's pulling away, smiling to himself. "spoiled." he repeats.

"haechan please-" you try to free your hands so you can do something — touch him, or even touch yourself. "i need-"

"you need me to fuck you?" he tilts his head, the harshness of his words contrasting with the gentle, and almost mocking way he says it. "is that what you want to say?"

shame burns low in your stomach, and you nod imperceptibly. mirroring you, haechan nods too, his eyebrows raised.

"say it," he insists. "say you need me to fuck you."

"i…"

at your hesitation, he backs away slowly, the warmth of his body leaving yours as he starts to slacken his hold on your wrists. immediately, your hands shoot free and you pull at the hem of his shirt pathetically, trying to keep him close to you.

"i need you to fuck me," you whine, trying to hold your gaze with him even as his eyes go dark. "please, don't go-"

"how long were you going to make me wait?" he seethes, flicking at your clit again, fingers roughly pulling at your panties and making them snap against your skin.

you can't think of anything to say. you whine his name, and he scoffs at how wrecked you sound.

"why didn't you tell me your body wanted a baby, hm?"

you freeze. what? "you m-mean…" you stutter, as haechan begins to tug your panties down your legs.

"needy baby fucks herself on my thigh because she wants a baby in her, is that right?" his voice thick.

"yes," you hear yourself say. there was no point in denying it, you needed him so badly. and the idea of him putting a baby in you, of fucking you so full of him until you were swollen and full…

"then prove it." sitting back up against the headboard, you follow him eagerly, no longer caring about how you acted around him, your skin burning hot from the way he was speaking to you. he let you strip him of his sweatpants, your mouth going dry at how hard he was. maybe you could suck him off first, and in return he could finger you-

a rough hand shoots out to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "focus," he demands. "i want you to ride me."

hurriedly, you start to straddle him, lining his cock up to your entrance before you hesitate. he hadn't really prepped you yet, and although you wanted it so badly…

you cry out as he shoves two fingers into you, sighing at the way you fall forward into his chest at the feeling. curling his fingers in you, finding your soft spot effortlessly, he murmurs close to your ear. "tell me if i'm being too rough, okay?" if possible, his words make you even more needy, and you nod, hips chasing his hand. "don't wanna hurt you," he mumbles, before stilling his fingers and pushing you back.

"why am i doing the work here?" he muses, condescendingly. "i thought you wanted this."

nodding vigorously, you begin to grind on his fingers, whimpering when your clit bumps the heel of his hand. a hand on his chest to steady yourself, you move the other downward and try to shove a third finger into you, wiggling your hips as he relents and starts curling three of his fingers against your walls.

"cumming," you gasp, feeling something tighten in your core. his thumb comes up to stroke your clit, and you're about to tumble over the edge, when suddenly he yanks his hand away, leaving you throbbing and empty. a sob rips out from your chest, the built up pressure of having him act differently around you, of needing him for the whole day, washing over you like a tidal wave.

"crybaby," he coos, wiping your tears away with the hand still slick with your arousal.

"please," you choke out. "cum, i wanna…let me…" pawing at his chest, you try to lift his hand back up and guide it in between your legs, but he grabs onto your wrist instead, forcing you to stay still.

"just want you to cum on my cock, that's all," he soothes. "don't you want me to fill you up?"

gulping, your breathing slows as the words seem to calm you. "yes," you mumble.

"good girl." grabbing your hips, he eases you down onto his cock, groaning as your walls spasm around him, your entrance fluttering uncontrollably. "fuck," he muses. "did you just cum?"

feeling humiliated, you nod reluctantly. "was sensitive…" you mumble. he laughs, stroking your cheek as you take all of him. he gives you time to recover, stroking your back tenderly as you get used to the feeling of him in you.

"ready?" he urges, thrusting his hips gently.

you nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as you begin to bounce in his lap, your thighs still shaking from your previous climax but the feeling of him too good to ignore. trying to pick up the pace, you stare at where your bodies are connected, the wet sounds of you sliding on him embarrassingly loud in the room. you only realise you've been letting out a steady series of moans when he brings a hand up to squeeze your throat.

"tired?" he pouts at you. you nod, begging him with your eyes to take over. "thought you said you wanted my baby," he mocks. your hips continue to circle even as you lose the strength to lift yourself up and down. feeling his tip brush against a spot inside you, you wail as you feel yourself clench hard around his thick length.

"please help me," you gasp. "wanna feel you cum inside me, want you to fill me up-" and haechan, tired of waiting, finally gives in.

he pushes you back onto the bed again, his arms pushing your legs up so they brush his shoulders, hips tilted towards him as he rams himself back into you. letting out a low moan, he begins to thrust hard into you, snapping his hips such that the blunt head of his cock repeatedly brushes your g-spot.

"you gonna cum?" he mocks, sarcastically. "or do i have to do that for you too?"

your hands find your clit, rubbing circles on it frantically as it immediately brings you to your high.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock, your warm and tight walls milking him, pushes him closer and closer to his own climax.

"where should i come?" he breathes unsteadily.

you don't respond, still too lost in your own pleasure. a hand comes down to pinch at your nipple, and you whine incoherently.

"where should i come?" he demands again.

he can see you struggle to piece together the words in your head. he hadn't asked you this in a long time — ever since your first anniversary, when you went on birth control and he celebrated by finishing inside you, the feeling of you raw making him come undone faster than he would have liked.

"w-where?" you make a sound of confusion.

"should i come on your tits," he pinches your nipple again,

"on your face," a light slap across your cheek,

"or inside?"

"inside," you moan, beginning to thrust your hips upwards to meet his movements, desperate for him to finish.

"good girl," he breathes, and with a final stroke he's cumming, pushing deep inside you as you feel his warmth fill you up inside, seeping out where your bodies connected.

the two of you stay like that for a while, him stroking your hair and peppering kisses on your face. you holding on to him for comfort, whimpering whenever he made an attempt to leave, burying your face in his chest. it's after you've mostly recovered when you finally let him go get something to clean you up with, and after you drank the glass of water he insisted you have, when you finally get a hold on what just happened. and a question comes flitting into your mind.

"haechan?"

"yes, baby?" you open your eyes, and squint at the angelic expression on his face. "tell me…mark didn't have anything to do with this, did he?"

tags: @91qowngus, @joonpantheress, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @krazy-kpoppy, @9900z, @kosmoreads, @matchahyuck, @donghyeok-okie, @bbh-kji, @isearchedtheyooniverse, @bettyschwallocksyee, @babyjenono, @prdshobi

#haechan smut #haechan imagine #haechan au #haechan scenario #hyuck smut #fic: gold skinned eager baby pt.2

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