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sweetlemontart · 9 months

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call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

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Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath.

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on.

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease.

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago.

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend.

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification.

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck.

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan.

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious.

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by.

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier.

"Is that it?" you asked him.

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head.

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you.

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest.

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name.

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes.

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further.

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show.

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal.

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more.

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow.

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to.

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit.

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut.

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge.

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in.

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much?

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it.

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you.

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer.

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising.

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants.

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light.

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you.

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet.

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum.

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back.

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath.

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes.

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips.

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting.

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening.

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all.

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better.

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him.

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh.

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips.

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole.

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt.

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit.

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up.

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow.

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt.

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name.

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know.

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle.

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy.

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it.

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours.

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp.

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt.

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow.

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

"Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him.

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full.

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess."

"W-What?" you squeak out.

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans.

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest.

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you.

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin.

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air.

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?"

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs.

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst.

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors.

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind.

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance.

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry?

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes.

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again.

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high.

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet.

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it.

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal.

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck.

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing.

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk.

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly.

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out.

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago.

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair.

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind.

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?"

"Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes.

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..."

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—"

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once.

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head.

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush.

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open.

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer.

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him.

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath.

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..."

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly.

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his.

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss.

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine.

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes.

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice.

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek.

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom.

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aestrayla · 5 months

Text

cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

lmk if u guys want a part two ft. the datables!

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vmpyria · 3 months

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IMAGINE DRESSING ALL GOTH AND ABSOLUTELY PAINTING THE TOWN RED WITH ALASTOR OMG??

this is the dream

SO TRUE NONNIE!! i have a goth oc that’s paired with alastor so i’m just going to use her vibes for this! she’s an overlord so you’re both an iconic couple in this!

no one can mess with the radio demon and his wife.

“my sweetheart! you look wonderful!” alastor boasted as you finished applying your icon black lipstick, glancing at your husband through your hand mirror.

it was metal with beautiful vintage design, “you always say that, darling.” you hummed in reply, making sure your makeup was perfect before placing the mirror back on your vanity.

“well, of course! you always amaze me with your beauty and skill!” alastor said cheerfully, you stood showing off your outfit.

your make up style was very leaning towards the traditional style of goth make up, given you had passed in the 80’s.

white foundation, big and eccentric eyeliner, wings long and thick. with black and grey eyeshadow, sometimes you used blush, but today was a monochromatic day.

your outfit was styled perfectly, a long floor length black dress, with a slit that ran all the way up to your thigh. a corset hugged your waist tightly, making your figure prominent. the dress had lace sleeves that resembled a bat. your heels were polished and shiny. your hair was teased and styled to your exact liking.

alastor’s grin widened and his gaze lit up.

“what a beautiful dress too!” he complimented, you smiled as your stepped closer.

extending your hand out to him, he took it gently. pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “you’re such a gentleman,” you hummed, alastor offered you his arm.

“well, of course, darling! i have to make sure my wife is happy, right?” he smiled, intertwining your arm with his and exited to the city of hell.

it was just a casual stroll, the two of you talking about mundane things, that is until a gang of shark demons approached.

the leader, naive to the power you two held, began hitting on you.

“baby! you’re so scary, huh! c’mon, leave that grinning freak and let me give you the night of your life!” the demon called. stopping in your tracks, you glanced at the group. seemed like the demon had some goons, as they all laugh at his comment, even going to add more crude about you and your husband.

but you didn’t worry, alastor’s grip on your arm tightened. his patience running thin, “darling?” you called, alastor looked at you.

you grinned, sharp pointed teeth visible in your smile.

“what to have some fun?” you teased, your words implying more. alastor matched your energy, “i thought you’d never ask!”

just as the demon yelled a comment, you didn’t really catch it, but you knew it had to do with your breasts. you and alastor had no issue dealing with them.

the people around the area scattered as they watched you and your husband maul the men that dared to cross you both.

the screams of the demons echoed through the red sky, pleas for mercy falling on death ears before they were ripped apart.

alastor had given you the last hit, the leader, which you took gracefully!

your claws dug into the demons skin before ripping some flesh off, the leader screeched for mercy, but you didn’t care!

by the end of this whole ordeal, you and you’re husband were covered in blood. you didn’t care too much, but your corset was stained! what a shame.

“what a show!” alastor perked, coming to your side, wrapping his arm around your waist, “you truly taught them a lesson.” he praised looking down at you, you hummed. “i guess so, now i have to take my clothing to the tailor though! i can’t walk around all bloody and gross.” you lamented, wiping away some of the thick crimson liquid from your cheek.

“me too, sweetheart! let’s go later in the afternoon, yes?” alastor proposed, looking down at you while grinning. you nodded, smiling as well.

“sounds like a plan!”

#⛧ . WRITINGS #࣪ ˖ 𓂃 anon’s 𖤐 #alastor smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin x you #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor

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itsvelyria · 3 months

Text

"where they would like to kiss you"

Charles Leclerc

he was taken by the nape of your neck the first time you had swept your hair up into a bun. the expanse of skin was dotted with moles that felt like a black holes drawing him in. that was your first date. and he was man enough to admit he was completely besotted with it, fingertips dusting across the span of skin whenever he was near you. he recalls the one time you said that his touch sent shivers down your spine. so he had taken the bold leap of dropping a kiss there next, sending you reeling in surprise. he had made it his personal mission to ingrain that action in your mind after, and the look you send him afterwards was just an added bonus.

Carlos Sainz

it was the classic kiss, the one that transcended time and age - a peck on the cheek. it was the place he could kiss you on at any time, any location and it didn't help that such a simple gesture would send your cheeks flushing, shy at the display of affection from him. it cemented as his favourite spot before a particular race that he couldn't even remember, where he had casually strolled towards you, tugging the balaclava down over his lips and stealing a easy kiss from you. the blood had rushed to your face before you pushed him away and turned away from the camera in embarrassment. you never stood by the barriers again.

Danny Ricciardo

it wouldn't even be a spot he liked to kiss, it was more accurate to describe it as the place he liked to tease you. danny loved pulling the skin of your earlobes between his teeth, lightly tugging at it. and you were equally freaky, laughing whenever he did it. you had grown used to him playing at your ears now that you had grown especially sensitive to it, your grip on his bicep or shoulder tightening whenever you felt his breath dust across the thin layer of skin there.

George Russell

he was a tall man and there was always a height difference between him and his partners. you, however, were particularly short. he often joked about how his back would start aching from bending down to hear you speak before he even reached the age of 30. you would playfully smack his stomach and his mischievious nature would kid that that was the highest part of him you could reach - it was an ongoing joke. but one thing he loved about your height was that his lips was at the perfect height to land a peck on your forehead, and so he found every opportunity to do so. he loved how he could wrap his arms around your shoulder, tugging you that much closer to him.

Lando Norris

he did it as a joke once, landing a kiss on your fingertips in the middle of an argument getting out of hand. your finger was pointing to something he couldn't remember and he had snatched your arm. you were stunned for a second, till he did it again and you had promptly dissolved into laughter at the silliness of your boyfriend. since then, he had used it for all sorts of things, all ending in your strong emotions dissipating and your now-calm form melting in his arms.

Lewis Hamilton

your relationship was far from a fairytale, the media and public eye causing endless problems for you both. but despite this, lewis has always thought of you as someone to adore and respect, which is why his preferred way to show affection was through a kiss on your hand. when your hand was tangled in his, walking down the streets of somewhere, was when he was reminded of how lucky he was to have your path in life intertwine with his, that he could hold you with him wherever he went. the man would then lift your joined hands to his mouth where he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, whispering that he loved you so so much.

Max Verstappen

you often teased him for nuzzling your neck one too many times, likening him to a cat, to which he would chuckle and pull you close to do the very action you were using as material. what you didn't realise, was that he actually loved your jaw. it was midway between your lips and neck, making it an intimate location but at the same time, it was the most subtle conveying of your connection. it didn't seem to earn groans from the people around and after all, who else other than two people, head over heels for each other, would place a kiss on the jaw?

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sweetestdesire · 13 days

Text

STUBBORN PRIDE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Jack Hughes is too stubborn to let Fem!Reader peacefully sleep on the couch.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and never seemed to take things seriously and he never really listened to a word anyone said. Everything always went in one ear and out the other. Like when Y/N told him she’d be on the couch for the night so she could have space, for example. It seemed space was not a word in Jack’s dictionary, because he strolled into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune.

Y/N glared at him from her spot on the couch, watching as he stopped a few feet before her. There was a smooth grin on his face, almost like he had plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masked the true nature of his feelings as he hid them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“Is there room for one more?”

“No.” Y/N said bluntly, promptly turning away to face her back to him. She didn’t have to look back to know his face was curled into that pout of his, the dangerous one that did too good of a job of convincing her to give him his way.

“Okay, fine.” Jack huffed, and then she heard the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making her itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch.

Y/N succeeded at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity got the better of her and she swallowed her pride and took a quick look. sure enough, he laid curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stared up at her with innocent eyes.

"What are you doing?" Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, and he stared at her like she’d asked a silly question, and maybe she had. Being hard to get rid of had always been Jack’s specialty, and she should’ve known better by now that retiring to the couch was never enough to retire from him.

"I’m going to sleep. What does it look like I’m doing?" Jack said like it was obvious. She almost smacked him with her pillow for his tone, but she had half a mind not to. It was the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it wasn’t her problem he forgot the single most important thing when it came to sleeping.

"Well, why here?" Y/N scowled, making him shrug as he settled his hands behind his head and looked up to the ceiling.

"Seems like a good spot to sleep if you ask me.” He said casually. “Nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, and the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. Sounds like the perfect place, eh? And if I get bored, we even have a TV.”

"I let you have the bed, you idiot.” She pursed her lips.

"Who needs a bed when I can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet, pretty girl?”

Y/N cut him off before he could finish, feeling the last possible vein she could preserve while dating a man like Jack Hughes pop. "Well, then I’m going to use the bed if you won’t.” She sat up, grabbing her pillow and blanket.

And because he’s Jack Hughes, the bane of her existence and the sole cause of all her headaches, he sat up, too. "Good idea, baby. Let’s go.”

"No. You stay here, and I’ll take the bed."

"Okay.” Jack hummed, still not making any moves to lay back down.

Y/N quickly realized this wasn’t a battle she could easily win with him and she rolled her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as she glared down at him. Jack looked up at her with that same innocent look, those same wide eyes that blinked up at her like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"You do realize I’m not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" Y/N asked dryly.

Jack grinned, that familiar glint in his eyes that always meant trouble. “Well, I never said anything about taking the bed, now did I?”

"Jack, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed.”

"It’s technically not the bed.” He insisted. “All you said is you're not sleeping with me. You never said anything about near me."

"Okay, I don't want to sleep near you.” She scowled.

"Nuh-uh, no way.” He shook his head. “You can't add rules now. It’s far too late."

"Jack, I swear to fucking God.”

"So, what'll it be? Bed or couch?"

"I hate you.” Y/N grumbled, settling back down on the cushions of their living room couch, back once more facing him. She could hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he spoke up again.

"Can I use your blanket? I’m cold."

"No."

"C’mon, just toss half of it over the edge, I’ll scoot over. We can make it work somehow.”

"Are you intentionally trying to piss me off?" Y/N snapped as she sat up, glaring down at him once more.

Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with. He was stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. He made her eyes soften before she could help it as they grazed over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. He made her anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard she tried to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. He made her forget they were arguing and that she should be mad when she noticed the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

So, Y/N blinked as she watched him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shook his head and offered her a small, innocent smile, one that told her he loved her, that he wasn’t mad, and that he'd wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for her as long as he needed to.

"No.” Jack chuckled. “No, I’d never want to make you mad. You’re scary when you get mad.”

"That’s rich, coming from someone who’s supposed to be a big, strong hockey player.” Y/N muttered, making him laugh softly. And she wasn’t mad anymore, not as much as she was just a bit ago. Maybe it was because she loved him too, even despite the way he made her veins pop, and her patience thin, and her head ache with that aggravating personality of his. Maybe that's what love was, when even the bad and the ugly were part of the good.

"Behind every strong man is an even stronger woman.” He cheekily remarked, his grin never fading.

"Just come here.” Y/N groaned, scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He didn’t even waste a single moment as if he'd been expecting it all this time as he climbed in beside her and pulled her into his chest. It was cramped and slightly uncomfortable as her legs dangled over the edge and her pillow barely fit under both of their heads, but his body was warm and his arms held her tight and she could faintly make out the thrum of his heart against her body. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not if it was with Jack.

"Did you miss me too much?" Jack wriggled his eyebrows, pouting when she shoved his face away as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You still haven't earned kisses back yet.” Y/N grinned. “Goodnight, Jack."

"But I can't sleep without a goodnight kiss.” Jack pouted, softly nudging her with his shoulder.

"I love you.” Y/N cut him off with a giggle. Jack Hughes was difficult to have arguments with, but she thought that she won this time.

#jack hughes #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x female reader #jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jh86 #new jersey devils #jack hughes drabble #jack hughes thoughts #jack hughes angst

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suguruplsr · 4 months

Text

HANDS ON MY NECK WHILE U PUSH IT UP

✮ suguru’s girls master list

— x implied chubby fem! reader , roommates!, smut w/ no plot , fingering, clit play, cum play, finger sucking, unprotected, heavy choking kink (f & m) + breath play, manhandling, sugu lowkey a perv + use of pet names, not proofreading rn cuz i’m tired + i suck at writing orgasms <3

you weren’t going to get anywhere, not like this. you huff under your breath in frustration, moving the pillow covered in silk from between your thighs, disappointed in your constant failed orgasms, despite that the mere thought of the handsome dark haired man, just a door further down in your apartment, had you soiling your undies.

today, you decided to get your nails done differently, acrylic longer than usual with pink gems accentuating the pristine white nails. you just didn’t think of how much harder it would be to get your fingers inside your throbbing cunt, opting for riding a pillow with the few plushies on your bed turned away.

but that clearly didn’t work.

you can’t help it, you came home to your hot roommate strolling around the house with those gray sweats and a slutty compression shirt. suguru had probably come back from the gym around that time, body coated in a thick sheen of sweat with his hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

you tuck your bottom lip in your mouth, squirming from the pulse down there as the memory of your roommate plays in your mind.

your roommate!

never mind that it’s the dead of night, you can just ask him to help you out. hopping out of bed, you unlock your bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway and immediately smelling a light scent of weed. mindlessly, you walk down towards the room not too far away from yours, seeing dim light peeking from the spaces of the door.

just as you go to knock, you hear a gruff, “come in.” cursing him

for sensing you, somehow. maybe you were a bit loud, eager even. you step inside suguru’s little cove. posters of bands littered the walls, and you can see an electric guitar in the corner of the room. then, low and behold, you see the long haired man on his phone, sitting against his headboard with an ashtray on the dresser beside him.

he must’ve put out his blunt once he heard you, considering the flavored odor strolling around the room. seeing you curiously look around, suguru chuckles, “came here to explore or..?” you shake your head, beginning to feel bashful, “sorry — just wanted to.. ask for some help..”

your confidence lowers from his clear amusement, his eyes having a tiny gleam full of trouble. “close the door f’me sweetheart, then you can tell me what’s on that mind of yours.” and you nod, trying to hype yourself up in your head. you can do it, just a one time thing. but his casual use of the pet name sent your body into a spiral. it just rolled off his tongue so perfectly, sexy enough to get you in his bed, and for all the right reasons.

suguru keeps his focus on the way your fat thighs expand once you’re in his bed, scooting closer to him and practically bathing in his husky aroma. “so..” “so…?” he cocks his head, a coy smile forming as his loose hair sways. biting your lip, your hands start to fidget, “so y’know how i got my nails done..”

“mhm”

“i’m uhm” you must be on some kind of heat, considering how turned on you are just from the low acknowledging hum that rumbled from suguru’s throat, an attractive perk he’s always had with his voice. “i’m having a hard time doing something.” you mutter, not catching the way a big hand darts to your face, making you look into his blown out eyes. “ah, keep your eyes on me pretty—“ but instinctively, you had still glanced away, blood burning around your body from how flustered he made you.

“nono, i said keep ‘em on me.” suguru tuts, the fingers holding your face beginning to get firm. “okay.. okay. this was such a bad idea..” you whisper, humiliated with your past self for even thinking of this. “well you’re not leaving until i hear it.” he shrugs, a hand going to your waist, respectfully high, and guiding you into the open space between his legs.

his bold actions, regularly, would have you recoiling away, but you’re too heated to think about it.

“can you finger me?” you blurt out. it was all or nothing. even if you wanted to kill yourself in about 500 ways from the heavy silence. “finger you, hm?” suguru quips, eyes drifting down from your face, shamelessly. and you try to ignore the fact that your perky nipples are practically staring at him, aching with each subtle movement that makes your silky t-shirt rub against them. “yea.. can’t do it with these..” you mumble, placing your hand on his chest, dragging it along the fabric of his wife beater, feeling defined abs under your fingers.

suguru grabs your wrist, and you think you’ve gotten all the tension wrong, but he’s soon kissing your fingers, a smirk playing on his lips. “oh i guess.. can’t ruin these huh?” he sighs, a faux tint of reluctance in his voice that you almost didn’t catch. you smile as his lips begin to trail near your nails, eyes adoring the decor with hopes to see them around his dick. but how else is he gonna get that dream-soon-to-be-true without a little work?

“well? what are you waiting for sweetheart. i want it all off — please?”

you find yourself naked on his lap, back laid against his bare chest with one of his thick fingers dipped inside your wetness. “she’s been neglected, hasn’t she? poor thing~” suguru coo’s, his head on your shoulder as you writhe in his hold, gasping at the feeling of your g-spot being pressed by the pad of his finger. “y-yea! so much..” you whine,

feeling his thumb reach up to roll around your clit.

“gonna make you feel so much better..” he sighs out, kissing your neck with his other hand grabbing your thigh, stopping you from clamping around his wrist because of how overstimulated you are. “but i can’t sugu, can’t think.” you whimper, hearing the wet squelches of your abused hole that kept giving him orgasm after orgasm, all from one finger.

“you can baby. promise you can. still gotta stretch you out hun.” you can hear the smile in his voice, biting your lip as another finger joins his, probably, pruned one. you jolt, digging your nails into his thighs to stable yourself as everything begins to feel more heavy. harder to take. his fingers move slowly in and out of you, periodically scissoring before smoothly pushing up against that spot in you that has your toes curling. “suguuu, m’gonna cum if you keep..” you gasp, but you can’t continue your words, dumbed out from the pleasure.

“that’s the point babe.” suguru gives a breathy chuckle, kissing the side of your neck and easing his fingers out of your cunny. like a switch from his previous words that you aren’t happy with. having the full feeling in you ripped away makes you frown, turning your head, “what’re you doing, i was—“ his hand moves quickly, holding the back of your neck and forcing you to watch as his goey fingers reach up to you, “shh, lick em’ up f’me sweetheart. promise i’ll make you cum~” suguru grins, his arm slowly snaking around you to grip your chin in place.

and you hesitate. you were never shy of getting a bit.. freaky. but seeing all of the cum coating his finger made you gag inside. “do i have to..” you cringe, voice meek as you divert your eyes away from the slightly nasty sight. but suguru kisses below your ear, humming disappointedly. “you shy baby? thought you liked disgusting shit like this. these walls aren’t thick.” and embarrassment burns through you, feeling his fingers open up your mouth.

“you’ll be fine, s’gonna be reaal quick.” he says in a smug tone, voice drawled and shoving his fingers inside your mouth. watching how your eyes immediately water in shock. you, despite your protests, suck off his fingers, tongue lolling around the muscles and swallowing as much as you could of the salty substance.

after suguru deems his fingers clean, he slowly pulls them out of your warm cavern, eyeing the nice and clean digits with pride filling his heart. “did so good f’me baby. c’mon..” his hands go to your waist, helping you turn, facing him and showing you his confident smirk. much to your dismay. “you’re so fucking dirty!” you slap his chest immediately, glaring up at him as he only laughs in response, a cocky grin on those pretty lips of his.

“still did it for me pretty. now lay down like the pretty princess you are.” he parted from you with a small kiss on the lips. patting your thigh as you moved over, still quite flushed after your hotly actions and watching him fully undress his lower body. unfortunately, you aren’t ashamed with the audible low moan that escaped your lips from just the sight of his cock that had slapped against his thigh.

suguru only gives you a knowing look, lips curled and eyes speaking the subtle condescending words that would’ve surely left him. “don’t even say anything.” you huff, clicking your tongue as he gets onto the bed. “wasn’t gonna.” he lies through his teeth, pushing you onto your back. “fuck, i didn’t think i’d ever get to see you like this..” suguru sighs out, raising your legs up onto his shoulders as he towers over you, something most guys wouldn’t do because of the thick flesh. but finally, you could sympathize with your friends how much of a turn on it is.

divine. the only word that could explain how you look right now, eyes blown out and lips puffy, one of your pretty hands flush against his chest as he rubs his dick along your folds. your neck, so beautiful and sexy to him. just in need of a nice strong hand to squeeze it until you’re heaving with your eyes rolling back. but suguru has to remind himself to not let his perverse and disgusting thoughts go wild, settling for what he can get.

“can i choke you? — i know that was so random but i really just..” suguru trails off, watching how your expression didn’t seem to diminish, not a single drop of hesitation in your eyes. “what are you waiting for? i’ve been high n’ dry sugu~ i’ll take anything you give me.” you sing, copying his earlier words and suguru swears you might’ve dug yours and his grave, a hand holding your waist still while he guides his cock inside your hole.

“really? sorry baby.” he glances up at you as his tip dips into your pussy. “g-gonna make it up to ya.” both of your breaths hitch as his cock begins to fill you, your hands flying to his arms. and suguru loves the expression on your face, lip bitten with your eyes watering. so fucking cute.

and so fucking hard to not fuck the living shit out of you.

“keep goin’ sugu. want it all.” you mewl, grazing your nails along his arm before letting it fall to your entrance. you holding his dick for a bit, gripping it firmly and then going to your folds. suguru groans, watching how your fingers spread them in a v-shape, glistening with your wetness.

suguru suddenly pushes all the way in, your body unable to comprehend the pure shock of pleasure because he immediately goes down on you. “oh my good– suguru!” his arm pins beside your head, the other sitting between your breasts while his hand darts to your neck. “fuck this. god, you tightened up so quickly. gotta relax baby..” and you curse him in your mind, unable to respond as his fingers encase your throat.

but it’s so hard to relax when he’s looking down at you, hair draped around his body, pretty bronze eyes shining under his lamp glow, his breath heavy. undoubtedly just as worked up as you are. suguru leans down, easing his tight hand a bit, but directing you to meet his lips. “c’mon baby, can’t move like this.” he sighs against your lips, eating up your whimpers like it’s nothing and squeezing your throat lightly.

for some reason, your pussy throbs around him, the way he manhandles you makes you feel so little underneath him. like a pillow princess bending to his will.

“felt that baby.” he whispers, cock his head to the side. his bang doing well to hide the little smirk playing in his lips. “just move.” you say, breathless and needing that ache inside you to be gone. “whatever she wants~” he grins, almost dangerously as his hips begin to fuck up into you, cock gliding in you a little more easier than before.

“sugu..” a broken moan leaves you as his hand grips your neck more firmly, not letting you get any reprieve. suguru smiles, tip bruising your insides, focusing on the sound of the squelching of your wetness on his cock. every time his hips dip down, cock filling you up to the hilt, it makes your mind go haywire, holding onto his biceps while spots slowly cloud your vision.

“s’fuckin’ amazing princess.” suguru pants, picking up his pace and beginning to grit his teeth from the feeling of your gummy wall’s clamping down on him. watching the way your eyes close, tight, and hands desperately moving along his arm, trying to stabilize yourself. but you can’t, not with those damn nails —

the reason why he’s getting a taste of your pussy in the first place.

“hah– c-can’t — i’m gonna..” you can’t breathe, eyes rolling back and lips parting. yet you find yourself, concerningly, liking this. because the sharp thrusts of his cock make it all the more better, sending you to cloud nine. “y’know i hate it when you say that baby. cuz you can.” through your blurry eyes, you see suguru giving you a mocking pout, hips angling just enough to make your legs shake.

then, his fingers let go for just a short moment, long enough for you to gain some oxygen, but that doesn’t last long as suguru kisses you, stealing your regained breath with his thumb running along your throat soothingly. as his fragrance keeps your senses heightened, you feel the familiar coil in your stomach, one that won’t be ruined. and is sure to feel good.

“su.. ima’ cum.” you try to speak against his hungry kisses, a hum of acknowledgement leaving his ruined lips. “i know baby. do it f’me, wanna feel this pretty pussy make a mess.” he coos, his big warm hand leaving your neck and reaching down to rub your clit. as much as you miss the security of your neck being in his hold, finally being able to cum is something you need.

desperately.

he pinches the tiny pearl, his thrusts becoming more precise and harder. “shit. gotta feel it baby. cum for me, i know you want to.” suguru groans, the hand beside your head reaching and holding the side of your face, his thumb slipping between your lips as he rubs your bud. you nod your head keenly, lolling your tongue around the big finger and taking what he gives you with no complaints.

suguru notices the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm, like the vibration of moans on his thumb, drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth as your eyes roll to the back of your head. just the lewd sight of your ecstasy is enough for his hips to stutter, cock twitching inside you and his breath getting heavier.

hearing your murmurs and whines muffled by his finger, suguru smiles, rubbing your clit faster as you writhe. “cumming with you sweetheart.. gonna take it f’me baby? yeahhh you are.” he tries to laugh at the way your eyes momentarily widen, teary. but a guttural moan escapes him as you try to keep him in. tightening around him.

and here he thought you were worried.

his fingers give your clit one last pinch, before you’re falling weak to the ministration. eyes fluttering and your mouth hanging as a long moan rips from you, his finger long forgotten. “fuck, o–oh fuuuuck..” your orgasm has suguru following suit, eyes closed tight as he listens to the sweet sound of your moans, dumping a large amount of cum into the sweet threshold of your pussy. even in your moment of bliss, you can hear the small choked groans leaving him, all right beside your ear and making the warmth filling your cunt feel all the more better.

suguru begins to fall limp, tiredness seeping into his hazy mind. he carefully tries to maneuver his larger body, not wanting to hurt you. yet the second he tries to pull out, you’re swatting his hand away. mumbling something about staying like this.

you wrap your arms around his neck as he moves to lay on his side, helping you lock your legs around his waist, his dick slowly sliding back into the hilt, your pelvises flush against each other. “s–shit. looks like we’re stuck together..?” suguru sighs, kissing your forehead as you nod in his chest. “slow your roll. not yet. i’m on the pill. plus we’re not even dating.” you smile, voice croaky. you place a kiss on his neck, admiring his broad structure as he ponders. “what’s your favorite place for brunch?” he quips.

“for what?” you laugh, grinning up at him. suguru just might be in love with the way you glow, and he knows it’s not just “aftersex”. he’s always hoped for one of those sappy smiles of yours to be directed at him, and he might as well take his chance. “tomorrow. a date, if you want of course. and we’re definitely not leaving this bed in the morning so…brunch it is?”

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scandinavianfairytale · 2 months

Text

Fate

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, obsession, attemped murder, actual murder, mentions of knives, one forced kiss, Feyd believes in his dreams & calls it fate 🙈

Feyd-Rautha smirked to himself as one of his guards rushed to tell him the news of the dead soldier. The guard graveled as his Lord excused himself from the meeting and casually strolled out of the room. It was time for sleep anyway.

If the soldier is dead, that means she probably took his knife. Feyd continued smiling as he approached the locked room you were kept in. My Little mouse.

As the door opened you clutched the knife behind your back and anxiously waited for your captor to enter the wretched room. You observed him as he entered and discarded his clothes, your eyes sneaking to the little gadget that prevents him from getting stabbed. Either he was oblivious or he was confident. Either way, this predicament you were in ends tonight.

You tried masking your breathing as he slowly advanced to you, your anxiety (or was it fear?) rising with each one of his steps. He seemed relaxed and that was your cue. Masterfully, you brought the knife out from behind your back and with all your strength plunged it at his abdomen.

Your victory, if you could call it that, was short lived as you realized that while the knife made impact, it made impact with his hand. You stared at his grip on the knife, clutching the blade as blood slowly dripped from it. His face was twisted in delight. And even though you were afraid, you hoped that your captivity will still come to an end, this time by the hands of your captor.

He easily pulled the knife out of your hands, as he sensed your defeat. Feyd chuckled at your boldness, you actually had the gall to try and kill the na-Baron. He already knew you were a good and sly fighter, but he didn't realize you were also this brave. He observed your demeanor and he realized you were hoping to get killed. Maybe escape was not on your mind.

"Don't worry, little mouse. I won't hurt you." He smirked. "Yet." He kept his eyes glued to yours as he discarded the knife and licked his blood-stained hand. He loved the sweet metal aftertaste the blood left behind in his mouth.

"I hate you."

"I know." His chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest. Like he found it so amusing.

"Why are you doing this then?" You gestured to the long chains that were shackled to your wrists. "Why am I here?"

"Because I want you." Feyd spoke so matter-of-factly, like it made complete sense. He breached the small distance between the two of you and stared into your eyes. "For the past couple of years, I dreamt of a figure that will lead me to becoming Emperor. She was by my side as the houses bowed down to me."

As he spoke, you recognized the dream. You've had it as well, on repeat for the last year. Feyd smirked as he saw your recognition.

"She was always hidden by a mask, her face just out of my reach. But then I took control of Arrakis, and this sand finally unveiled her." He took a dramatic pause. Like he didn't already know what the next sentence out of his mouth would be. "It was you."

"So I searched for you until I found you." Feyd caressed your hair, as if you were the most precious thing in his possession.

"Let me get this straight, because of a reoccurring dream you decided to kidnap me and keep me locked in here?" Your face hardened in disgust, flinching away slightly.

"Not a dream. Fate."

"I didn't peg you for one of those people that believe in fate."

"You're the reason why I believe in fate."

"And now what? What's your plan?" You barked.

"I'll keep you here until you submit. Until I can have you by my side, willingly. And then we take what is ours." His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and his hand traveled from your hair to your chin, gripping it tightly and lifting your chin up. You wanted to turn away as it became too overwhelming, but his lips came crashing down on yours. You felt as if he consumed you. It was too much, but Feyd's hands enveloped you, bringing you even closer together.

He couldn't get enough of you. You had a taste to you that he couldn't place. Something foreign but at the same time familiar. It was as if you were his own personal drug that he took for the first time.

Your hands pushed up against his bare chest, trying to push him away, but he wouldn't budge. So you bit him hard, drawing blood, and finally, he let you go, with the softest moan leaving his lips. You weren't under any pretense - he let you push him away. For what reason, you weren't sure, but you were glad he was a safe distance away. You willed yourself to swallow the bile that rose in your throat as his blood left a bitter taste in your cavity.

Feyd ran his fingers over his lips and sucked the blood from them. He smirked, his teeth stained with his own blood. "You really like hurting me today, Little mouse. I like this side of you."

"Take the cuffs off, and maybe you'll like me even more." You challenged, your voice shaky as you were still trying to catch your breath.

"Please, give me some credit. I may be reckless and up for a good fight, but you still killed your guard and took his knife, hoping to do the same to me. I'd be downright stupid if I let you out of those cuffs." Feyd chuckled, and he walked past you towards the only bed in the otherwise nearly empty space.

"Come now, it's time for bed."

"I'm not tired."

"That wasn't a suggestion." His voice was harder, like he was warning you. In your mind you knew, but you felt stubborn, especially after this whole debacle. So, you refused to move. Feyd didn't hear your footsteps, and he slowly turned his head to glance at you from over his shoulder. You could see how his back strained.

"You have one more chance to listen. If you don't, I will not be lenient, no matter what fate tells me." Feyd spoke in an ominous voice, and it made you rethink your choice. Slowly, you made your way towards him, and he slowly entered the bed, with you following him.

This has become a routine for you. Every night, Feyd would come back, and he would sleep next to you, holding some part of you. Most of the time, he held your hand, but tonight, he pulled you close and tucked you under his chin, inhaling your scent.

And just like any other night, while Feyd-Rautha slept peacfully, you didn't sleep a wink.

Thank you for reading! 😊✨️

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator 😊💪

#austin butler #dune #dune part two #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd #feyd x reader #feyd imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #fate #fanfic #short story

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woso-dreamzzz · 23 days

Text

Penalty

Barcelona Femení + Misa Rodríguez x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Someone's ego is bruised

She was hot and sweaty but above all, Misa was tired.

She’d even go as far as saying she was exhausted.

“Ale!” She complains as another ball goes rocketing past her to the back of the net,” Come on! We’ve been at this for hours!”

On the edge of the pitch, lay both Paños and Cata. They’d been Alexia’s first two victims, having been there since before Misa arrived.

“I’m just warming up,” Alexia replies, jogging on the spot before kicking another ball past Misa’s body,” I’m practicing.”

“For what?” Paños asks,” You’ve not told us anything. Are you doing another charity match? Because this is extreme.”

“No, but that’s a good idea,” Alexia says thoughtfully before letting loose another rocket that streaks past Misa’s outstretched arms.

“She’s finally gone crazy,” Cata groans,” I told you this would happen. She’s gone crazy and now we’re all suffering.”

“Again,” Alexia orders as Misa rolls the balls back to her,” We’ve still got a little bit of time before-“

“How long have you guys been here?” Patri appears out of nowhere, strolling onto the pitch with a group of people trailing behind her,” God, you’ve killed Cata.”

“Okay,” Misa snaps,” What the hell is going on?! I thought retirement was the opportunity for us to relax. Ale’s gone absolutely batshit!”

Patri grins, all crooked and mischievous. “Her ego’s bruised. The new Barca keeper hasn’t let any penalties in ever. Alexia thought she’d be the exception.”

Misa racks her brain for who the new Barcelona keeper is, thinking for a few moments before,” Oh, Eriksson and Harder’s daughter, right?” She laughs. “Wounded your pride, did she, Ale? It’s okay. You’re not in your prime anymore-“

“I’m just out of practice,” Alexia says to Misa before turning to Patri,” How did you find out? Did you blab to everyone?”

A group of the old Barcelona team have invaded the pitch. Pina, Marta and Caro have all set up a picnic blanket as Paredes and her wife hand out juice boxes and to-go sandwiches. Jana and Bruna are squirting each other with water as Mapi and Ingrid roll their eyes.

Vicky and Salma have arrived too, talking to each other as Ona and Aitana come strolling closer.

Behind them, comes Patri’s cousin and you.

You’re talking softly to her, heads bowed as you speak whilst carrying a bag.

You’re dressed casually in just some tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. Your jacket is flung over your shoulders and Natalia fiddles with the collar.

You’re much taller than you were the first time Misa met you. You’re taller than her definitely, taller than Alexia too. Misa’s eyes cut to Ingrid and she wonders briefly if all Scandis are tall or if you and Ingrid are just outliers.

“Morning,” You chirp, digging through your bag for your gloves.

“Ten euros on Alexia getting one in,” Jana says and Misa watches as Talia rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. Alexia’s getting nothing past her. Mi vida is the greatest keeper in the world. She doesn’t let me score against her without a fight. There’s no way Alexia can do something I can’t.”

Patri laughs, ruffling her cousin’s hair. “You think you’re better than la reina? You’re cute, Nat.”

Natalia huffs, darting away so she can smooth her hair down. “She’s not getting anything past her.”

“I’ll put five on y/n playing with her,” Ingrid pipes up,” Look at her, she’s already not taking this seriously. She’s teasing Ale.”

You’re grinning, swinging your arms easily before dropping down to tie laces that were already tied.

Alexia paces in front of the penalty spot like a lion.

Back and forth.

You take your time, inspecting the goalposts before whistling sharply. Without even looking, Talia chucks you your drink and you catch it one-handed. You take a long drink and Aitana giggles as you carelessly throw it behind you.

You clap your gloved hands twice before finally taking your position.

Alexia tries to catch you off guard. She doesn’t run up, she just kicks.

You leap up on one leg and pluck it from the air.

She tries to put the next into the left bottom corner but you’re already diving in that direction before the ball has fully left her foot.

“See!” Natalia swoons to everyone who will listen,” My girlfriend is the best in the world.”

Alexia’s penalties get more aggressive as time goes on but you collect them all without little fanfare.

Her last kick had you winking as you roll the ball back to her and Misa had to smother her life when Alexia’s jaw clenches.

“Give up, Ale!” Mapi yells from the sidelines,” Save what little dignity you have left!”

Ingrid smacks her on the shoulder but offers up her own teasing. “She’s already got a list of veterans she’s beaten in penalties! Don’t make her add you too!”

“She has a list?” Misa asks and Ingrid nods.

“It’s a long list,” Ingrid giggles,” She’s been collecting us like Pokémon. I think Chloe Kelly got put on the list last week. Sixty-nine mile per hour shot, y/n collected it like it was nothing.”

“Kid’s got skill,” Paños says, whistling lowly,” Did you see that goal in the World Cup last summer? She’s got flare too.”

“It was so cool!” Talia says excitedly, practically barging her way into the conversation,” The shocked face after it was so cute.”

Natalia waxes poetic about you for the next half an hour as Alexia overloads you with penalties.

None of them go past you.

“You’re so gross,” Patri complains as Talia finally finishes her latest you-centric lecture,” Can you go be in love somewhere else?”

“Nat!” Paredes calls out,” Come and grab a drink, please! It’s very hot today.”

Misa agrees It’s is very hot and she can’t believe a Scandi like you is easily keeping up with Alexia in such heat.

Aitana calls out to you in Catalan and you turn your head to respond, perfect Catalan flowing from your mouth as you reply.

While you’re distracted, Alexia strikes.

She kicks the ball hard. It’s going in the opposite direction to where you’re looking but you still move, like you’ve seen her kick out of the corner of your eye.

You intercept the ball with your chest, letting it fall to your knee and then your foot, where you boot it straight back to Alexia, who has to duck or face a ball to the stomach.

“Sorry!” You call out to her, face suddenly goes bright red when you realise how automatically you reacted.

Alexia sighs and just lays backwards on the ground in defeat.

“Another one for the list then,” Mapi laughs as you make your way over.

You sit by Aitana, who offers you a drink that you take gratefully.

“Hey,” Misa says, sticking her hand out to you,” I’m Misa.”

You shake it. “I know. We met at the world cup when I was little.”

“That was a while ago. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too.”

She sits on your other side. “So, no penalties whatsoever?”

“None,” You reply,” It’s my special skill.”

“How?”

“She’s super smart,” Natalia says as she appears. She drapes herself over your back and props her chin up on your shoulder. “So smart. She has a degree from Cambridge.”

Your cheeks go red. “You don’t need to keep telling people that.”

“A degree from Cambridge!” Talia doesn’t pay any attention to what you’ve just said. “And she speaks so many languages! She’s working on her Basque right now!”

“Talia,” You complain,” She didn’t ask.”

“But she should know,” Talia insists,” Maybe if you bragged more then I wouldn’t have to do it for you.”

“I’m not that smart.”

Aitana scoffs. “You picked up Ancient Greek in a few months,” She says,” I think we should all be thankful you decided to do football and not take over the world instead.”

You laugh. “I’m happy I stuck with football too.”

The air is filled with ease even as Alexia crawls out of her defeat and joins you all on the picnic blanket. It’s the first time you’ve really hung out with the old Barcelona team. You know a few of them through the coaching staff, a few more through Talia but having them all together makes you feel a little lightheaded.

Cata and Paños in particular seem in awe of your skills and you used to admire those two nearly as much as Zećira. It’s all a bit surreal.

Alexia ends up next to you.

��If I was in my prime,” She says,” I would have scored past you.” She’s being deadly serious and it shocks a laugh out of you.

“Do you really think so?”

Her face betrays her true feelings even as she nods.

“We should get Jenni to try a few against her!” Jana insists.

“I’ll text her,” Marta says,” I think I saw somewhere she’s in the city. Maybe we can get her here now.”

Alexia doesn’t bother answering them. She looks at you, really looks at you. She’s scrutinising you.

Her eyes are narrowed as she stares before her features soften and she bumps her shoulder with yours. “One day,” She says,” I’m going to give you your Ballon d'Or.”

#woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #the big adventures universe

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sturncrazy · 4 months

Text

High School Reunion🔥

Chris Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUT!! nsfw 18+ (risky location, almost caught, unprotected, language)

authors note: time jump for this one (it takes place 2 years from now but roll w me here ok 🤝) also this one ended up a lil sweeter than i thought it would but hey it’s kinda cutesy

summary: you attend your 5 year high school reunion and end up having an unexpected run in with your old crush Chris Sturniolo 👀

word count: 2,618 w

—————————————————————————

You fussed with your name tag. it felt so stupid, it had only been 5 years since you’d all been classmates. could everyone have forgotten each other that quickly? the thought made you nauseous, because deep down you knew you’d be one of the people forgotten the fastest. you were quiet in high school and never partied. not to mention the fact that puberty decided to wait until college, at least that’s when boys decided to notice you. you adjusted your dress, took a breath, and mustered up the courage to walk into the decked out gymnasium.

The next few hours consisted of semi-awkward life updates, but it was painless. the music was loud and people had enough drinks that everyone was in a friendly festive mood. the main focus of attention was on Sturniolo triplets, who’d actually bothered to show up. Their rise to fame was the schools main bragging point and people were all whispers. but it made the night easy for someone like you. you decided to grab drink and headed for the makeshift bar area, when you slammed into someone.

“Oh i’m sorry” you said before looking up

“No you’re all good m’bad—“ your eyes locked with a pair of massive blue ones.

“hey” said Chris Sturniolo, smiling down at you. Chris was the only one of the triplets you’d ever had a class with. You took biology together and were lab partners once, although you did all the work. At the time you’d had a major crush on him, but so did every other girl in your school. even years later though, your heart still leaped into your throat at the sight of him.

“hi” you said back weakly. his smile grew slightly.

“it’s good to see you it—“

“CHRISTOPHER OWEN STURNIOLO! MY BOY” a voice shouted over you, cutting you off. a big beefy hand grasped Chris’s shoulder, undoubtedly one of his old lacrosse buddies, pulling his attention away from you. you instinctively hurried away.

the evening began to get boring, so you decided to explore your old haunts. you were about 5 minutes into your journey when you heard footsteps jogging behind you.

“hey wait up, y/n” you turned over your shoulder to see Chris coming up to meet you.

“you remember my name?” you blurted in shock

“course i do, y/n don’t be silly.” he said casually. “whatcha up to?”

“oh nothing really, just reliving”

“sounds fun” you continued to stroll on and he followed

“so why’d you leave the group?”

“guess i’d had enough of ‘em…and i wanted to actually say hi to you”

“oh yeah? how’d you know where to find me?” you tried to fight off a smile

“your old locker was over there” he said motioning “figured you might visit it”

“you remember where my locker was?” you said in disbelief

“good memory i guess” your heart jumped. had he noticed you back then too?

“plus nicks was a few over” he continued, immediately squashing the feeling. the two of you strode side by side in a comfortable silence down the empty halls before chris came to a halt. you paused to see what stopped him and he grinned at you pointing.

“‘member that room?” he asked , gesturing towards the old biology classroom

“yeah” you chuckled out “didn’t think you did though.” he threw a hand over his heart and dropped his jaw in fake insult

“hey, we spent quality time playing with frog guts in there”

“what a gross way to put it” you wrinkled your nose at him

“c’mon, betcha it’s unlocked” he said mischievously, reaching for the handle. sure enough the door swung open and chris crept into the dark classroom, holding it open for you. You were hit with the smell of pencil shavings and old memories as you heard the door click shut behind you.

“like we never left, huh?” chris said softly

“Can’t say I wish we hadn’t”

“you don’t ever miss it?”

“what, biology? no not exactly…why? do YOU?” you raised your eyebrows dramatically. he laughed

“well no not biology. No i dunno just life was simple then, you know?”

“yeah maybe for you” your words came out bitchier than you meant and chris looked almost hurt.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh no nothing sorry I just— no high school just wasn’t easy for me like it was for you, you know? i wasn’t popular or anything. i mean i’m shocked you even remember me”

“you think so little of me?” he said faking hurt again, what a little drama queen. you laughed in spite of yourself, shaking your head.

“hey, believe me i’m honored to have made an impression on THE chris sturniolo.” you looked down at your feet muttering more to yourself “16 year old me would’ve been psyched”

chris smiled at you sweetly, taking you in with those big blue eyes.

“you made more than an impression on me” he said, sincerely. you stared at him, puzzled which must’ve been obvious because he snorted and continued

“oh cmon, y/n that’s real sweet of you, but it’s okay i know i wasn’t exactly subtle about my crush” your jaw dropped slightly. HIS crush? what was he talking about?

“really? you REALLY had no idea?” you shook your head violently. his faces flushed ever so slightly, the first time you’d seen him not look completely confident.

“oh well then that’s embarrassing that i just admitted that” he laughed, awkwardly. you were frozen in place trying to process. “well, i did”

“why didn’t you say anything”

“scared i wouldn’t stand a chance?”

“with ME? are you kidding?”

“okay i’m sensing a pattern here, y/n. are you unaware of how incredibly hot you are?”

“i sure wasn’t back then” you snickered, hoisting yourself up onto a table.

“i thought so” you paused again staring at his ernest expression

“god i would’ve killed to know that back then i mean i was obsessed with you”

“wait a minute you were?” you nodded vigorously. he crossed the room and leaned next to you against the table you were perched on.

“well no shit” you stayed in silence for a moment before an uncontrollable giggle began to bubbled out of you.

“what?”

“you said i was hot” you snorted at the floor. you felt his eyes on you.

“i said you are hot” you stomach jolted. you turned to look at him. he was so close you could see the delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose. the tension was thick enough to choke on.

“chris sturniolo did you bring me into the biology lab to try to seduce me” you teased.

“why? is it working?” he leaned in closer to you. your noses bumped playfully, enjoying the slight torture of fighting off locking lips.

“mmm maybe”

“maybeee” chris mocked. you took an inhale to calm yourself before closing the rest of the space between you and pressing your lips against his. he froze, apparently caught off guard momentarily, before eagerly kissing you back. your mouths molded perfectly, finding a rhythm together. the kiss rapidly became hot and passionate, as your lips fought for dominance. Chris brought his hands to your waist, grasping you tightly. you parted your legs for him to come closer and wrapped a hand through his hair. he groaned into your mouth as you pulled at his locks, making you suddenly aware of a growing heat between your legs. he ran his hands up your thighs and pushed your dress around your waist making you sigh. he glanced down at your exposed lacey thong and smirked

“do you always wear stuff this sexy?”

“oh shut up chris” you said, slapping his chest playfully. he pressed his forehead to yours

“make me” he rasped out, lighting your lips with hot air. you wrapped one hand around his tie and yanked him back to you, harshly. he stumbled slightly, letting out a rocky breath into your mouth. you hooked your legs behind him, locking him into you. he took your motion as a signal to press himself fully against you. you dragged your hands down his torso, eliciting another groan as his grip traveled to your ass, squeezing at your flesh tightly. you whined and felt him smile against your lips in satisfaction at the sound you made for him.

“god you’re so fucking sexy” he growled out, sending tingles down your skin. your body reacted before your brain did, wanting more. you raised your hips and pushed up against his. he pulled away and smirked at you, raising his eyebrows

“easy there, tiger. this is school property”

“so?” you taunted. Chris’s pupils dilated. he licked his lips and dove back into you, hungrily. he dug his hands into your thighs and yanked you against him as close as he could, your torsos and groins completely flush. a moan tumbled out of your lips and you reached for the buttons of his shirt. he grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“uh-uh, sweetheart. if we’re gonna do this we have to be careful” he chuckled

“mmm but chrisss i want you” you whined, kissing him again

“oh yeah? how much?” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck, sloppily. you enveloped your hand around one of his began to move it down between your bodies. chris pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes tracking your joined hands as you brought his fingertips to your thinly clothed heat. you whimpered at the contact.

“fuck” chris breathed out, his eyes meeting yours, not moving his head. you removed your hand from his and he began to drag his fingers up and down the soaking fabric.

“jesus, you’re so wet” he exhaled, observing you in a trance. you pushed your hips closer to him, trying to intensify his painfully delicate touch. he locked eyes with you again, as he hooked one finger around your thong and pushed it to the side before returning his focus to your now entirely exposed dripping folds.

“shit—stop teasing me, chris” you hissed.

“whatever you say, ma” he grunted as he began to push his index and pointer finger into your throbbing entrance. you moaned loudly, tossing your head back.

“shhhhhh” he sounded, placing his free thumb to your lips and bringing your head up to look at him again. you let out a stifled whine as he began to pump his digits in and out of your core at a mesmerizing pace. you felt your walls tighten as he curved his fingers exactly how you needed them. you gasped, fighting the urge to cry out.

“you look so pretty with my fingers in you like this”

“mmmm—chris” you moaned

“can only imagine how pretty you’d look with my dick inside you, baby” he groaned out. your legs stuttered at his words, begging for him.

“oh—god chris—please” you huffed out

“please what?” he said, continuing to fuck you with his fingers.

“fuck me chris please” you almost begged. his breathing shook at your request and he pulled his fingers back out of you, glancing over his shoulder towards the classroom door.

“think you can be a good girl for me and be quiet if i do?” you nodded your head vigorously

“promise?” he said, reaching to undo his belt. you felt your mouth grow dry.

“i promise, chris”

he kissed you while unzipping his pants.

“good. can’t promise i won’t make you wanna scream though” he said with a smirk against your lips as he lowered his pants just enough to free his hard length. you glanced down and felt your jaw drop and your mouth salivate at the sight of him. he was huge. fear and desire coursed through you, his pink tip glistening with precum. he pumped himself with his hand for a moment, before pushing your legs further apart and lining himself up with your entrance. he pushed his tip into you slowly, hissing. you began to bite your lip fighting the urge to scream by the time he was only half way into you, the stretch and deepness of him already overwhelming. he sunk the rest of the way inside your core, his head collapsing into your shoulder and neck as he bottomed out, groaning.

“fu—fuck—such a tight little pussy, ma” he stuttered, pulling back out of you.

“hhh—so big—chris-“ you gasped into his ear, clawing at the fabric of his shirt

“mmm yeah? you like my big cock, huh?” he growled

“oh god—yes—faster—“

“think you can handle it?” he taunted, still going slow enough to drive you crazy

“mmmhmmm please” you whined. you buried a scream into his taut shoulder as he slammed all the way into your pussy.

“shit—you feel so fucking good y/n” he rasped out, begging to pound into you relentlessly. the room echoed with the squeaks of the table and your stifled moans combine with chris’s heavy breaths as he rammed his long thick member inside you. every inch of him hitting your walls and g spot in the most perfect way imaginable. chris sucked at your neck harshly, undoubtedly leaving marks, never letting up on his steady thrusts. He brought one hand down from his steadying grip on your hips to your folds and began to draw circles against your clit, sending your pleasure to new highs. the sensation was too much and you let out a pornographically loud moan. Chris slapped a hand over your mouth and halted, still deep inside you. you became aware of a sound from out in the hallway and froze. had someone heard the two of you? Chris looked at you wide eyed and raised a finger to his lips, maintaining the other hands cover over your mouth. footsteps approached and you tensed, preparing to be caught, but the sound continued on down the hall. you exhaled against chris’s hand in relief and his shoulders relaxed as he gave you a smile.

“gotta keep that pretty mouth shut, baby” he whispered to you, starting his thrusts again

“can’t have anyone else knowing how perfect you look with my cock stuffed in you” he growled, restarting his rubs against your bundle of nerves. within moments you felt the overwhelming pressure in your stomach forming.

“fuck chris—i’m close—“

“you gonna cum for me, gorgeous?”

“yes-fuck—right there-oh god” your vision began to blur and electricity sparked through your body as you began to unravel

“you look so sexy cumming all over my dick” chris exhaled in encouragement as your walls began to flex uncontrollably around him. the added sensation made his jaw go slack and his eyes roll into the back of his head

“ohhh-oh fuck” he moaned out. his thrusts becoming unsteady and desperate, chasing his release. you moaned lightly, still coming down from your high

“shit—oh fuck, baby- i’m gonna cum hhh”

he slammed into you violently, his brow furrowed.

“OH FUCK” he wailed, pulling out just in time to shoot his hot white load of his release on your thigh. he collapsed his forehead against yours, the two of you desperately trying to regain your breath. he eventually looked up at you and smiled, blushing.

“that was amazing” Chris exhaled, giving you one more kiss before reaching behind to grab a nearby tissue. you took it and cleaned yourself up, then pushed yourself off the table and resituated your dress. Chris inhaled sharply, almost nervously while redoing his belt

“hey how long are you around boston for?”

“oh dunno, bout a week i guess?” you answered, fixing a heel

“well what would you say to dinner?”

“dinner?” you questioned, dumbfounded

“yeah…dinner…like a date?” his voice raised as he scratched the back of his head, scanning your face.

“I’d love that” you smiled

—————————————————————————

GUYS AH IM SUCH A CHRIS GIRL I NEED HIM SO BAD. also why was this giving sorta 2000s rom com vibes (minus the sex obvi)

OK ENJOY!!

kisses💋

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the-offside-rule · 2 months

Text

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Embarassing

Requested: yes

Prompt: 3) "His smile gives me butterflies"

Warnings: alcohol maybe idk

Y/n, the brilliant Red Bull strategist, reveled in the success of another 1-2 finish for the team. The victory celebration echoed through the night, and with each cheer, Y/n's heart raced. As the party reached its peak, she found herself drowning her nerves in a bit too much alcohol. In the dimly lit corner of the party, Y/n sat alone, contemplating the stars above. Max Verstappen, unaware of her intoxicated state, noticed her isolation and decided to check on her. "Hey, everything alright?" Max inquired, concern etched on his face as he sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her to show his support.

"I'm just here, having a moment. You know, thinking about someone." Max, intrigued yet puzzled, sat beside her. "Someone special, huh?" Y/n nodded, a dreamy expression settling on her face. "You won't believe it. I'm head over heels in love with Max Verstappen! Can you imagine? His smile gives me butterflies, and when he races, it's like my heart is on the track with him." Max, amused, played along. "You think so?" She nodded. "And his determination, Max never gives up. It's inspiring. Also, that Dutch accent is-" She paused lifting her glass to her lips. "It's something else."

Max couldn't hold back his laughter. "You seem to know him quite well." Y/n nodded, blissfully unaware. "Oh, absolutely! I have have come up up his strategy like all the time. I wish I could tell him how much I love him." Max, enjoying the banter, decided to play along. "Well, maybe you should." Max looked at her with admiration. She was seen as somewhat of a recluse at Red Bull. Yes, she was lovely but she was serious about her job and worked so hard to prove she was serious, that Max and many other team members were unaware she was even capable of being able to love someone. "I will! Next time I see him."

"Shouldn't be too hard. You're in a huge nightclub with him." Y/n nodded. "Yeah. Oh, and the way he talks about racing, it's so passionate. I could listen to him talk about it all day." Y/n sighed, blissfully unaware that she was talking to the very person she was gushing about. Max chuckled, enjoying the unexpected revelation. "Well, I'm flattered. Thanks for the compliment."

"Wait, what?" She turned. Max smiled and put his hand out. "Max Verstappen." He said teasingly. Y/n's eyes widened, realization hitting her like a sudden gust of wind. "Wait, what? Oh my- Max, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to- I mean, I didn't know it was you." Max laughed, genuinely appreciating her honesty. "No worries. It's flattering. Let me walk you back to the party." As they stood up, Y/n, suddenly shy, looked down. "I should probably go. I've embarrassed myself enough." Before Max could even say a word, off she went stumbling away. Max followed, but in the crowded venue, he lost sight of her. The party continued, but Max couldn't shake off the amusing encounter and the even more amusing strategist

The next day in the buzzing Red Bull factory, Y/n immersed herself in her work, determined to focus on strategy and leave the embarrassing incident behind. As she studied data and simulations, Max casually strolled through the facility, inspecting the ongoing progress. He eventually found his way to Y/n's desk, where she was engrossed in her tasks. Max leaned against the edge of the desk, smirking, "Hello, darling."

Y/n's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I, uh, I think I may have said some things at the party." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Max, still amused as he was the night before grinned. "Oh, you mean the Max Verstappen love fest?" Y/n cringed. "Yeah, that. Sorry about that." She hid her head in her hands as Max simply laughed. He interrupted with a playful grin, "No need to apologize. I thought it was cute, actually. If you ever want to show that side of you more often, feel free."

Y/n blinked in surprise, and Max reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper. He jotted down his number and slid it across her desk, winking mischievously. "In case you need someone to talk to about your Max Verstappen crush." Flustered but intrigued, Y/n managed a shy smile. "Thanks, Max. I'll... keep that in mind." Max nodded, giving her a knowing look, and continued his stroll through the factory. Y/n couldn't help but replay the interaction in her mind, a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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saetoru · 1 year

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。DIFFICULT — GOJO SATORU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ gojo is too stubborn to let you peacefully sleep on the couch (1.2k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mentions of an argument but it's fluff, gn! reader, annoying gojo bc who is he if not a headache

☽ notes ⋮ he is so cute i wanna stab him

gojo satoru is difficult to have arguments with.

he’s stubborn and never seems to take things seriously and he never really listens to a word you say—everything always goes in one ear and out the other. like when you tell him you'll be on the couch for the night so you can have space, for example. it seems space is not a word in gojo's dictionary, because he strolls into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his lips whistling a soft tune. you glare at him from your spot on the couch, watching as he stops a few feet before you.

there’s a smooth grin on his face, almost too smooth—like he’s plastered it on for appearance’s sake, like it masks the true nature of his feelings as he hides them with that usual unbothered smile of his.

“is there room for one more?”

“no,” you say bluntly, promptly turning away to face your back to him. you don’t have to look back to know his face is curled into that pout of his—the dangerous one that does too good of a job of convincing you to give him his way.

“kay, fine,” he huffs, and then you hear the soft thud of his body settling on the floor, making you itch to turn and peek over the edge of the couch. you succeed at ignoring for him for approximately thirty seconds before the curiosity gets the better of you and you swallow your pride and take a quick look.

sure enough, he lies curled on the hardwood floor, limbs awkwardly sprawled as he stares up at you with innocent eyes.

"what are you doing?" you furrow your brows, and he stares at you like you've asked a silly question—maybe you have. being hard to get rid of has always been gojo's specialty, and you should know better by now that retiring to the couch is never enough to retire from him.

"i'm going to sleep. what does it look like?" he says like it's obvious. you almost smack him with your pillow for his tone, but you have half a mind not to—it's the perfect opportunity for him to steal it, and it's not your problem he forgot the single most important thing when it comes to sleeping.

"well, why here?" you scowl, making him shrug as he settles his hands behind his head and looks up to the ceiling.

"seems like a good spot to sleep," he says casually, "nice hard floor to cushion my back, cool breeze of the air conditioning to keep me cold, the clock ticking in my ear to keep me up. perfect place, huh? and if i get bored, we even have a tv!"

"i let you have the bed, you idiot," you purse your lips.

"who needs a bed when i can sleep on the hardwood floor next to my sweet little baby—" you cut him off before he can finish, feeling the last possible vein you can preserve while dating a man like gojo satoru pop.

"well, then i'm going to use the bed if you don't," you sit up, grabbing your pillow and blanket. and because he's gojo satoru, the bane of your existence and the sole cause of all your headaches, he sits up too.

"good idea, baby! let's go—"

"no. you stay here, and i'll take the bed."

"okay," he hums, still not making any moves to lay back down.

you quickly realize this isn't a battle you can easily win with him—as is any battle, really—and you roll your eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat as you glare down at him. he looks up at you with that same innocent look—those same wide eyes that blink up at you like they couldn't possibly do any wrong.

"you realize i'm not sharing the bed with you just because you're stubborn, right?" you ask dryly.

he grins, that familiar glint in his eyes that always means trouble, "well, i never said anything about taking the bed, did i?"

"satoru, you can't possibly mean sleeping on the floor next to the bed—"

"it's technically not the bed," he insists, "all you said is you're not sleeping with me. you never said anything about near me."

"okay, i don't want to sleep near you," you scowl.

"ah ah," he shakes his head, "you can't add rules now. it's too late."

"satoru—"

"so what'll it be? bed or couch?"

"i hate you," you grumble, settling back down on the (uncomfortable) cushions of your living room couch, back once more facing him. you can hear his body softly settle back onto the floor again, and after a few beats of silence, he speaks up again.

"can i use your blanket? i'm cold."

"no."

"c'mon, just toss half of it over the edge, i'll scoot. we can make it work—"

"are you trying to piss me off?" you snap as you sit up, glaring down at him once more.

gojo satoru is difficult to have arguments with. he's stubborn and annoying and so stupidly handsome. he makes your eyes soften before you can help it as they graze over his messy hair and the soft glow of his lip balm. he makes your anger ebb away slowly no matter how hard you try to latch onto it just from that toothy grin of his. he makes you forget you're arguing and that you should be mad when you notice the soft, gentle traces of love in his eyes.

so you blink as you watch him, letting out a quiet sigh as he shakes his head and offers you a small, innocent smile—one that tells you he loves you, that he's not mad, that he'll wait on the cold, hard floor with no pillow and blanket for you as long as he needs to.

"no," he chuckles, "no i'd never want to make you mad. you're scary when you get mad."

"that's rich, coming from the strongest sorcerer in the world," you mutter, making him laugh softly. and you're not mad anymore—not as much as you were just a bit ago.

maybe it's because you love him too, even despite the way he makes your veins pop, and your patience thin, and your head ache with that aggravating personality of his. maybe that's what love is, when even the bad and the ugly are part of the good.

"behind every strong man is an even stronger—"

"just come here," you groan, scooting over to make room for him on the couch. he doesn't need to be told twice—doesn't even waste a moment as if he's been expecting it all this time as he climbs in beside you and pulls you into his chest.

and it's cramped—it's slightly uncomfortable as your legs dangle over the edge and your pillow barely fits under both of your heads. but his body is warm and his arms hold you tight and you can faintly make out out the thrum of his heart against your body.

maybe it's not so bad—not if it's gojo.

"did you miss me too much?" he wriggles his brows, pouting when you shove his face away as he leans in for a kiss.

"still haven't earned kisses back yet," you grin, "goodnight satoru."

"but i can't sleep without a goodnight kiss—"

"love you," you cut him off with a giggle.

gojo satoru is difficult to have arguments with—but you think you win this time.

i want to have gojo satorus babies

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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earthtooz · 1 year

Text

x : BETWEEN LOVE AND LIES :*+ﾟ

in which: you thought nagi was dating you for media reputation... so why does this relationship feel suspiciously real?

warnings: 11.9k words, pro-soccer player!nagi x physiotherapist!gn!reader, reader has hair, lots of food, not at all a realistic story but that's okay pls don't come for me, SLOOWWWWBURN, fake-dating au, reader is oblivious :<

a/n: goodness. if this flops i will cry bc i spent way too long this for it to be healthy for me. enjoy !

↳ 5K EVENT MASTERLIST ༉‧₊

nagi approaches you the day after his name goes viral.

you weren’t doing anything spectacular, merely putting away all the kits and equipment you’d used for the day when the white-haired soccer player approaches you, his hands in his pockets, strolling over to you as he would on any occasion.

your heart races- as it does whenever he’s around, regardless of said occasion, but what tumbles out of his mouth next was worthy of ceasing your heart rate all together.

“wanna date?”

you’re speechless. malfunctioning as you register what he’s saying. the sheer casualness of it all is alarming and you have to snap yourself back into your physical environment before your mind loses to a universe of questions and doubts.

out of all people who have asked you to date, nagi was definitely the most unique. was he okay in the head? did he come for a check up? did he get one of rin’s kicks to the head? or was he just straight up delusional?

“uhh, why?” you ask, cursing yourself a little for how disgusted you sounded.

fortunately for you, your ungracious tone didn’t phase him, not one bit. “isn’t that what two people do when they like each other?”

yeah, romantically. you don’t even think nagi likes you beyond simply platonic, whereas you have to try and shove your feelings for him down your throat every morning before walking in to the training grounds for blue lock’s official team.

you find yourself agreeing regardless, still a little overwhelmed by everything that was going on.

the soccer player then has the audacity to give you two thumbs up in approval, a dumb smile plastering on that expression of his. this confuses you even more.

“okay cool, so what should we do now that we’re a couple?” he asks.

you glance away, unable to look him in the eye for too long without getting flustered. the various weights and foam rollers still scattered on the floor catches your attention, reminding you of your previous task before nagi came to stir up a storm. “well, i have to put these away amongst various things. you can sit on the couch if you want to pass time?”

“do you need any help?” he questions, already bobbing down to be eye-level with you, ignoring the second half of your statement.

“no it’s fine, thank you though.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah! i don’t want to bother you.”

“well if you do this all by yourself, it’ll take longer, and you take longer, it means i have to wait longer to spend time with you.”

when you turn around to say something, the words die on your throat when you realise just how close he’d come to you during the time you had your back towards him. a flash of hurt crosses his typically emotionless eyes when you instinctively recoil from him, his innocent stare dimishing just a little.

“you know how much i hate waiting. it’s such a pain, so let me help out and you’ll get done faster, right?” his hands are already reaching for some of the foam rollers before you can stop him. with an affectionate sigh, you take it from him, placing it back in its original spot.

“fine,” you say with a smile. “if you insist then would you mind putting the ice packs in the fridge? isagi’s ankle was messing up earlier and chigiri came in for his knee again.”

the white-haired hums before obeying, his footsteps that shuffled along the floor telling you know that he is carrying out his duties that you’ve assigned for him. the way his tracksuit makes a noise every time he walks is distracting, but you can’t help but think how much nagi reminds you of a penguin. the adorableness of it all might just kill you.

if only the internet and ‘#nagi seishiro’ tags knew just how much of a teddy bear that 6’3, legendary prodigy, nagi seishiro was, and how you had to massage him almost everyday after training sessions otherwise he’d come to practise the next day with the resolve of a five year old.

being a junior physiotherapist for the blue lock team, you only took care of a few blue lock athletes as your clients since the team was divided between you and a senior physio. nagi wasn’t one of your assigned athletes, however when you first came to the job, he would come during almost closing times (when you had no one booked) and ask for a massage, even if he had his own physiotherapist to request that of. however, nagi seemed to always have some sore muscle because his demands for a massage became a daily recurrence.

you just hope whatever is wrong with him gets sorted out soon.

sure athletes are meant to work hard and use their bodies in the field but physio massages were to assist with injuries by minimising the risk of them, fixing the alignment, or help extend any limited range of movement.

whatever. now’s not the time to think too hard about it because you’re about to go on a date with nagi seishiro.

after cleaning up your space so you could prepare to take care of more athletes tomorrow, nagi is sauntering over to you once more. this time, he drapes himself all over you, causing you to stumble a little from how heavy he is. you pray to whoever’s listening that he can’t feel or hear the way your heart races in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat and jump into his hands.

“tired, nagi?” you question, words muffled against his shoulder as you bring your hands to soothingly pat his back.

“yeah,” whines the white-haired. the smile that creeps onto your face is one full of adoration for the man slung over you. “let me take you out.”

“where to?”

“a night market? it’ll be fun.”

“sure.”

at your confirmation, he separates from you with an excited glimmer in his eyes,

after grabbing your bags and setting out, you’re violently flooded by dozens of paparazzi and interviewers who are click their cameras in hopes of catching blue lock’s soccer player who has taken the world by storm. it’s a little overwhelming, but when nagi covers you from the reporters with his arm which had his tracksuit jacket draped over it, you’re thankful for his thoughtfulness, especially when you’re relying on his grip around your waist to pull you in the right direction.

the crowd is shouting a flurry of things, nothing that you can make out amongst the mess of your mind, your heart, and your ears.

it’s not until you decipher someone shouting something about dating rumours with a japanese pop singer, that you piece together his intentions; a loud wakeup call to the reality of your ‘situation’ with nagi.

the possibility that nagi was using this ‘relationship’ for media coverage and acknowledgement was very likely, especially with his recent growth in popularity and social media following- it would be understandable if he wanted to prolong his moment in the spotlight by entering beneficial relationships.

except typically, celebrities would do it with other celebrities.

so what’s the appeal behind using you?

a funny feeling brews in your gut, one that clawed at your chest with a series of disappointment, anxiety, and dismay. it was unbelievable that someone as hot, both literally and figuratively, as nagi would be interested in you; a junior physiotherapist fresh out of university, but you had hoped. his abruptness today and the whole ‘we should date’ ordeal was to dispel the media from his back, not bred from any genuine feelings.

if this was the only chance you got to stand beside nagi and have him hold you like this, so protectively against him, then you were going to take it until fate deemed it over and pulled you away from him itself.

you were young and simply put, nagi could provide the companionship you were looking for.

fortunately, the press left him alone at the parking lot where security guards were standing, two in the booth and one purchased near the gate. you give them a shy greeting and they return it with a bow.

“sorry about that,” nagi mutters, not looking at you even when you turn your head to stare up at him. “i wasn’t expecting paparazzi to be right outside, they’re such a pain.”

“it’s okay, if anything i owe you a thank you for covering me from them,” you huff, stuffing your hands into your pockets, mind still a little frazzled over the memory of how protective nagi was over you. “stuff like this happens when you’re famous, mr soccer hotshot.”

he rubs his neck, looking to the side as his next words tumble out of his mouth: “does that impress you?”

“why wouldn’t it?”

you try not to think too hard about the blush that manifests on his face, pinning it on the colder weather and frostbite rather than your words.

“so… where’s this night market? i didn’t know tokyo had many night markets.”

“just in shibuya.”

“won’t it be busy?”

“yeah,” he shrugs before adding as an afterthought: “does that bother you?”

“no not at all, i just thought you hated big crowds and busy places.”

“‘s won’t be so bad with you there.”

for someone who prefers to keep quiet majority of the time, nagi sure does have a silver tongue. this is probably the third time in the past half an hour that he’s made your stomach flip, and you can’t help but question his intentions. if he was trying to make you actually fall for him to make your relationship look more legitimate then he’d be disappointed to know that you already had, way before he approached you today.

he agrees to drive the way since one: it was easier and two: you could avoid the paparazzi that way.

upon arrival, you’re glad to see that there aren’t too many people in the crowd. since it was a weekday, students would be participating in extra curriculars and businessmen would be only just finishing work. the majority of the people here were older with a few couples here and there.

“oh, they have lemon tea,” nagi mutters, grabbing your hand before unceremoniously dragging you to the stand. his excitement was endearing, especially when all 6’3 of him approaches the lemon tea stand, needing to bend down in order to be seen by the elderly stand owner. a flash of surprise crosses the maker’s face as he makes eye contact with the white-haired.

“two lemon teas please,” requests the soccer player, using his hands to gesture ‘two’ as he fishes out the appropriate amount of money.

“hey, you’re that soccer player, nagi! you scored an awesome goal the other day. mind if i get a picture?” the owner’s gruff voice requests, a cheery smile making its way onto his face.

“oh. sure.”

you take the picture for them, counting down ‘3, 2, 1’ as nagi gives the camera a peace sign and the owner has a wide, bright smile on his face; so bright that you couldn’t help grinning as well. “i’m putting this on my store front. now you want two lemon teas?”

“coming right up!”

“did you just buy me a lemon tea without asking?” you question, a smile appearing on your features as you glance up at your companion.

he meets your eyes, “yeah, ‘s there something wrong with that?”

“no, not at all. i wouldn’t mind some lemon tea right now. i’ll pay you back.”

“don’t worry about that,” nagi cuts you off before you can even reach for your wallet. “everything’s on me.”

“but-”

“-it’s on me.”

the stand owner is handing over two iced cups of lemon before you can continue bickering and nagi hands one over to you with a wordless expression and you’re compelled to take it, though reluctantly.

“are you two a couple?” the owner asks.

nagi nods, “yeah, we are.”

“ah! no wonder. you two look amazing together, you bagged a real gem,” he says to nagi, pointing at you. you laugh it off, flattered.

“i know i did. thanks for the tea, sir.”

“thank you!” you call out to the owner before being dragged away by nagi again, careful not to spill your drink from how much vigour was in his steps. for his one stride, you had to take two.

after going from store to store and blindly following nagi who led the way with his stomach, you’re eventually brought to a less busy, picnic-like area where there were various benches for you to sit on. it was away from the busyness of the main street, but still had lanterns hung around the premise, combating the darkness of the early sunset during colder months.

you take a seat beside him whilst he sets down the variety of food he bought from the merchants, not trying to think too much about the way nagi presses himself closely against you.

“oh, one of my games had a character drop an hour ago,” he absentmindedly comments, opening his phone for the first time since being with you. you catch a glimpse of his dim phone screen, seeing the notification banner from the game he was referring to.

“that’s cool,” you mutter, unsure of what else to say as you take a bite into the red bean taiyaki.

“yeah, he’s a cracked character. been wanting him forever.”

“are you gonna pull? i wanna see him.”

“really?”

when you give him the nod of affirmation, nagi opens the game whilst you continue eating, gentle anticipation hanging in the air as well as a comfortable silence. it doesn’t take long before he’s purchasing special event tokens, going to the special character screen and pressing the ‘draw x10’ option. you peer over his shoulder, trying to resist the urge to rest your chin on it.

you’re snapped out of your reverie when nagi emits a small gasp. “no way.”

“what?” you ask, watching the way his screen lights up in gold which signalled a successful draw. he looks up at you, eyes wide and mouth partially parted. “did you get him?”

“yeah, on the first go,” he says in wonder, a dazed look in his eyes. “that’s never happened before.”

“no way! you’re so lucky!”

nagi’s face erupts into a small smile, and you’re caught off guard all of a sudden when his hands snake around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his lap. the new proximity and abruptness of it all causes your mind to stop for a second, shutting off as nagi peers up at you with stars in his eyes. you want to hide, but his grip around you is too tight, pulling you in to him.

this feels criminal.

“nah, i just think you’re my lucky charm.”

a quiet squeak of ‘is that so?’ is all you can reply with before looking away, trying to distract your rampant thoughts, hoping that the cool breeze will calm the heat creeping up to your face. “so,” you begin, trying to recover yourself from embarrassment. “can i see your characters? all of them?”

“all of them?” nagi repeats and you miss the small look of bliss on his expression.

“yeah.”

“i showed them to you the other week.”

“okay, well show me this new character then.”

“as you wish.”

he talks you through the characters and their tutorials, showing you their special combos and ultimate moves, all whilst you have to feed him the variety of foods he bought whilst dragging you around like a dog and its owner. as he munches on the takoyaki, kebabs, and sweet potato, you realise just how bottomless nagi’s stomach was and the way he hums in satisfaction after each bite was very adorable.

the night fades into a nice memory of laughter, emptied food boxes, and easy conversation. somehow nagi has manoeuvred himself so that his head was now in your lap, snowy hair spread so invitingly as you resist the urge to run your hands through it, wanting to respect any boundaries of his.

every so often you have to remind yourself that this wasn’t real.

reality hits you once more the following morning when you check social media just to see ‘#nagi seishiro’ trending all over again, all talking about the paparazzi photos that were taken yesterday. taking a glimpse for yourself, you hate the way your gut sinks, especially as articles with the title ‘nagi seishiro with a new lover?’ shine in your face.

it only solidifies your speculations about this (fake?) relationship, and despite coming to accept it, growing resentment poisons your system, rendering you incapable and bitter as you let your breakfast grow cold.

at least nagi correctly covered you with his jacket, your face is completely obstructed, only your body is revealed. you thank your lucky stars that you decided to not wear your ‘blue lock’ staff clothes that morning and just opted for your own athletic wear, that way your identity could be hidden at least just a little.

a message from reo captures your attention and you click on it immediately.

reo: is that you with nagi?

you: yeah!

reo: about fucking time. got sick of you two never doing anything.

you: haha 😐thanks reo 😐

reo: did he take you to the night market last night?

you: yeah! it was fun :)

reo: that’s good, nagi’s been waiting forever.

reo: don’t break his heart

you scoff at the irony of reo’s last text, typing something noncommittal before throwing your phone else where.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the whole team practically knows about you and nagi when you return to work the following monday and the second you enter the building, you’re swarmed by the friendly faces of bachira, isagi, and chigiri, who are seemingly holding a tired nagi hostage. quite an amusing sight. three people, who are roughly a head shorter than the white-haired, restraining a lethargic 6’3 athlete with their bodies.

“are you really dating nagi?” isagi begins before you could even fit in a ‘hello’.

“uh… yeah?” you sound unsure; because you are. a fake relationship is still a relationship, it’s just that one party is more infatuated with the other.

“damn. i didn’t think it was real,” mutters chigiri. “are you sure? he’s not like… paying you to do this, right? you like like him?”

“yes?” you exclaim, a little overwhelmed. “i’m not getting any monetary returns even though i wish i did.” nagi narrows his eyes at you, you poke out your tongue. “please, no more questions, it’s way too early for this.”

“you don’t know how long we’ve been waiting for nagi to ask you out, y/n. even we placed money on him,” reveals isagi but before you could say anything in response, bachira cuts in, practically skipping up to the white-haired.

“finally grew some balls and asked, good job bro!” bachira sings, patting nagi on the back with a violet slap before disappearing.

“see you at practice, nagi!”

the three athletes disappear and you finally exhale after holding in a breath for what felt like ages. what an animated way to start the day.

you hold your breath again when nagi approaches to stop in front of you, a singular coffee cup in his hand; one that he holds out to you.

“good morning, nagi,” you greet.

“hey, i got you coffee.” instinctively, you take the cup from him, immediately warmed up by the heat emanating from it. “i hope it’s still warm. i’ve been waiting for you for a while.”

“you were waiting for me?”

“yeah. wanted to see you before going to training. makes my day less of a bother.”

you smile into your cup, trying to hide the effect that nagi has on you. you were so stupid for him it was insane.

“i’m sorry for making you wait, the trains were a little delayed this morning,” you confess, “but thank you. you’re very thoughtful, nagi.”

his face contorts into an ugly expression, a display of his feelings that are quickly quelled by the feeling of your cold hand grabbing his warm ones. “you take public transport to work?”

“i don’t want to pay for parking and everything. it’s not all bad, i get lovely views and a wake up call every morning.”

the white-haired athlete makes a face of contemplation briefly. “let me pick you up from now on.”

“no, it’s fine. i don’t want to be more of a hassle. i know how much you hate waking up to even just come to work so-”

“-i want to.”

your heart flutters at his insistence and all you can mutter out is a feeble ‘ok’ before slipping your hand out of his. you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to get used to the way nagi seishiro so effortlessly warms your insides; to the point that it becomes an unrecognisable pool of putty.

after a moment, you regain your senses. “you should be going off to practise. don’t make ego mad before the day even starts.”

he groans, “won’t you come and watch? i’ll feel a little better if you’re there.”

“i have my own work to get to but i don’t have many checkups today so if i can, i will.”

“i suppose that’s good enough,” mutters nagi before pulling you in for a loose hug, arms wounding around your waist, breathing you in before stepping back, as if rejuvenated by your touch and presence alone.

“work hard, nagi.”

you go your separate ways, him to the field and you to your office where various coworkers resided.

after a morning of answering emails, going to meetings and consulting the results from various body screenings, you finally have a chunk of time around 11:45 am to go and watch practice. as soon as you entered the training grounds, you’re a little stunned and impressed to see that they were all doing shooting drills, landing them perfectly with no effort, the harsh sound of shoe slapping against leather ringing throughout the area.

nagi notices you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up a little when you shoot him a small wave before wandering into the bleachers, taking a seat in a second row.

you continue watching, straightening up in your seat whenever it’s nagi’s turn, waiting to watch the genius at work. the results are no less than impressive every time but you have to pretend like you weren’t at all marvelling at him whenever he turns around and looks at you expectantly.

15 minutes later, ego calls for an hour lunch break, allowing the players to break off to do whatever their heart desires. the first thing nagi does is walk over to where you sit in the stands, leaning over the first row of chairs to reach you.

“why hello there, soccer sensation,” you greet and he gives you a lazy smile.

“hi.”

“you going to go for lunch?”

“yeah. have you had something to eat yet or do you wanna grab a bite together?”

“i brought cup noodles but i don’t mind. don’t you want to go with your friends?”

“you’re better.”

“please shut up, that’s so cringe,” you murmur with an undeniable grin, one that causes his gaze to soften as well. “let’s get lunch together then.”

“let me get dressed,” the athlete says, about to run off when you abruptly stop him, causing him to turn around suddenly, his hair whipping around with his actions. “what’s up?”

beckoning him over, he returns to where he stood before and you take out a hair tie, one that you store in your pockets all the time just in case. “does your hair not bother you when you practise?” you silently ask for permission, hand merely hovering near his head until you realise that he was okay with the contact. “it’s getting all in your face, even i was annoyed when watching you.”

gently, you run your hands through his hair and despite the sweat on his forehead, it’s still soft and fluffy. goodness you could play with it forever.

then, you gather nagi’s front bangs, bringing them together to resemble a unicorn horn, tying it with your hairband. when you part from your work, you’re pleasantly surprised that it holds but you suppress a giggle because of how ridiculous he looks, paired with that dazed look in his eyes, you never thought you’d see nagi like this.

when you reach to tug your hairband out of his hair, he waves you off, taking the updo out himself.

“can i keep the hairband?” he pleads and you quirk an eyebrow.

“it’s just a hairband,” you say.

“so you won’t miss it right?”

“no, i won’t-”

“-okay, epic,” he mumbles before putting the hair tie around his wrist and a part of you swells with pride at the sight; a feeling that you try to shove down with little success. “can i get changed now?”

“yes, go.”

whilst you watch the white-haired disappear from your vision, you can’t help but wonder how you got yourself into this situation with such a weirdo. still, you adore said weirdo and this was no one’s fault but your own.

nagi wears the hair tie for the remainder of the day.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

roughly two months or so pass by and the days become a blur, especially since training is becoming more rigorous for the team due to the preparations for their spring soccer season. your schedule is piled day by day with athletes coming for their regular checkups and consultations, leaving you drained as soon as the work day is over.

nagi, your loving ‘partner’ notices this because he always likes to stick around after hours and bother you for a massage. he always insists that you do it because it’s like an immediate ‘full heal’ but you just think that he’s too lazy to book a professional masseuse and that you’re the next best thing.

whatever. at least he’s cute.

“i hardly see you nowadays,” he mutters, voice muffled by the leather bed of your workspace.

you gather a little more lotion on your hands, spreading it along his calves before pressing your thumbs into his muscles, trying to identify where any tight spots might be. “i’m sorry, i don’t have much time nowadays. appointments with you guys go all the way til six, and i don’t get home until 6:30. then i’m practically out like a light.”

he hums in torment and in consideration, tensing his shoulders a little as a natural response to the pain in his legs. “well, tomorrow’s a saturday. can i take you out?”

“i don’t know, some athletes may sporadically come and bother me to get a massage so i’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“be serious.”

“i am free tomorrow.”

“sick. keep it that way.”

“even if athletes bother me for a much-needed massage in order to perform at their best?”

he huffs something in response before flopping his face back down on the leather bed, the (seemingly invincible) knots in his calves taking too much of your attention for you to think too hard about tomorrow’s date with nagi.

he’s still wearing your hair tie around his wrist.

true to his word, nagi picks you up the next day at 3pm for your date since he insisted that was the earliest he would be ready by (meaning, it’s the earliest he can wake up). when you meet him, you’re a little stunned by the amount of disguises he’s wearing. sunglasses, beanie, and a face mask, you’re not sure whether he’s going to attract more attention or blend in.

also, when you’re 6’3 it’s hard to avoid eyes.

“hey, i’m supposed to meet someone called nagi, he’s got white hair, grey eyes, 190 cm, have you seen him?” you ask as soon as you approach the soccer player. he sighs through his mask when you erupt into a fit of laughter. “i’m just kidding.”

nagi brings down his mask to sit below his chin. “your boyfriend is right here,” he corrects, voice demanding and authoritative, sending shivers down your spine.

“so he is,” you mumble, stepping closer to engulf him in a hug. he wraps his arms around you in return and you contentedly sigh when he pulls you into the comfortable, expensive material of his hoodie. “what’s with the disguise?”

“i don’t want anyone to ruin our day out so i’m wearing this.”

“ever so thoughtful aren’t you?”

when you take a step back, nagi’s careful to not let you stray too far which is indicated through the protective arm he keeps around your shoulders.

“should we get going?”

“yeah.”

the white-haired laces your hands with his, his grip gentle yet committed to keeping you near him as you stroll down the warming streets of tokyo.

“it’s finally spring,” nagi comments offhandedly, causing you shift your gaze towards him. you’re surprised that he was initiating conversation, majority of the time it was you doing the rambling and him partaking in the listening. “the cold weather was getting bothersome. hated going to practise all freezing, makes warmup so hard.”

“i like the cold weather,” you say. “it’s easier to dress for winter than it is for summer.”

“that is true.”

“do you like spring?”

“yeah, ‘s my favourite season.”

you didn’t think someone like nagi would bother too much with having a favourite season. “why’s that?”

“it’s a good season for napping and staying inside. i like that i don’t have to do much nor think about much.”

such a nagi response. you admire how stubborn he sticks to his ideals and general philosophy, it’s a comforting quality and aspect to have.

“plus it’s your birthday season,” you add.

he looks at you with a gentle smile before repeating: “it’s my birthday season.”

nagi takes you to a park where the cherry blossoms are in full bloom, its petals decorating the scenery and ground, creating a dainty, lovely carpet of pink and beauty. however, the main attraction of the date isn’t the scenery of the park but rather, the lake where several pedal boats float on the water; some occupied, some vacant.

the soccer player shows the attendant his purchased tickets, getting them scanned before you’re led to get on one of the boats.

“so… are you liking the date?” nagi asks when you’re out far enough from the dock so that no one can hear you. here, he takes off his mask, tucking it into his pocket.

“i am, i’ve been wanting to ride one of these boats for a long time but i’ve just never found the time,” you confess. “i’m glad that it’s with you. thanks, nagi.”

he looks away, an obvious pink tint appearing on his cheeks as he rubs his neck in embarrassment. “it’s okay, i s’pose.”

“you’re so cute,” you say whilst raising one hand to drag through his hair.

“stop,” he whines but not brushing you off or pulling away, instead, he leans into your touch.

a few minutes of silence pass by before nagi speaks up again, retreating back into his personal space as he fishes for something in his hoodie pocket. he pulls out a long velvet box, handing it over for you to take which you do with a little hesitation.

“i wanted to give you something to mark two months,” he tells you and you feel your heart drop.

“wait what? two months? i didn’t know we were celebrating that!” (because you spend too much time fretting over the day he’d tell you that he wants to break up, not needing this fake relationship anymore.) “i didn’t get you anything, i feel terrible now-”

“-it’s not a big deal, i just wanted to give you something.”

“nagi i can’t accept this, this is too good-”

“-i insist.”

“but i don’t have anything for you-”

in the blink of an eye his hands are clasped tightly around yours, his face incredibly close to yours that you’re stupefied into silence. “i. insist.”

you stare at him for another three seconds before relenting, opening the velvet box with the utmost care in fear that you might drop it in the water; a horrifying thought.

a gasp of delight slips out of your mouth when you see an emerald necklace beaming brightly in your face. it’s in the shape of a pendant, encrusted around a halo plate with gold surrounding it, and from the looks of it, it couldn’t have been cheap.

looking back up at him to express the disbelief you feel, you’re silenced by the gentle look in his eyes, one that shines with adoration and devotion.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper, unable to talk much louder in fear that it’ll cause the emerald to shatter in your hand. “you shouldn’t have.”

“i wanted to because i really like you. stop worrying.”

you exhale deeply, a little flustered and caught off guard by how candid he was. this feels suspiciously real.

“where did you learn to be so romantic?” you quiz, using humour to narrow how awkward you felt.

“shoujos,” he answers shamelessly.

“ah.” makes sense as to why he makes you feel like you’re in one. “can you help me put the necklace on?”

the white-haired shines with glee, features brightening for a second. “y-yeah, of course.”

“thank you.”

when he grasps the jewellery in his hold you turn around to expose the back of your neck to him, practically holding your breath when you feel his warm fingers brush against your skin, his touch barely there yet still prominent enough to blaze trials of fire where he caresses.

“how do i look?” you ask, turning back around.

“beautiful,” he says, no louder than a whisper.

eventually the boat ride comes to an end and you return back to the dock. a lingering feeling of bliss and giddiness resonates in your chest, evident in the undeniable grin plastered on your face whilst you walk through the park; this time with a pretty gemstone adorning your neck.

“nagi, look!” you exclaim, gesturing over to a company-branded photo booth that had set itself up in the middle of the park. there were various people lining up for one and judging by the pleased squeals from groups of students, it would be a nice memory to keep for today. “should we take one?”

“sure,” he shrugs, letting you drag him to hop in the queue which was going much faster than you anticipated.

when it’s your turn, there’s hardly any time to discuss poses when the cameraman clicks the countdown button so unexpectedly. you reflexively hug nagi whilst smiling and he just gives a simple peace sign. he then stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his head atop yours. finally, he bends down to kiss your cheek, rendering you completely mentally inable as you default a pose, not entirely too sure which one whilst you wait for the countdown and the camera flash.

“you guys are so cute!” the photographer exclaims, handing your photobooth strips already. even then you hadn’t regained your senses, relying on nagi to guide you with his hand on the small of your back.

glancing down at the photo strip, you’re stunned into speechlessness at the last photo. you can still remember the feeling of his lips on your cheek, specks of his warmth lingering on your skin whilst you continue trying to register what just happened.

you might explode or something.

“cute,” nagi mumbles whilst putting the photo strip into his wallet, pulling you in by the waist to stand closer to him, whispering in your ear. “i still have one place i want to take you.”

“do you?” you squeak, earning you a nod as he leads you through the park, coming to a stop when you enter a somewhat secluded section that had a sign labelled ‘private picnic rooms’ with various price ranges according to the number of people.

once again, he claims to have a reservation and you’re led by an attendant towards a specific area that had a table scattered with plates of snacks and various decorations. the vibe of the room was incredible with tatami mats, a floor to ceiling glass window that outlook the cherry blossoms, and if you tried hard enough, you could hear a stream running.

“you… really outdid yourself,” you murmur, wandering over to one side of the table, expecting him to sit on the other. instead, he takes the spot right beside you.

you’re not too sure if this layout is how the establishment intended it to be but it is now.

“so you like it?”

“i do. i love everything you’ve done today, you’re too good for me.”

“not true,” he grumbles, too quiet for you to address it further but loud enough for you to hear.

your relationship doesn’t make any sense to you. why is nagi trying so hard to impress you when this relationship was just for beneficial gain? what does he get from booking a pedal boat ride, buying you a (clearly expensive) emerald necklace, then taking you to have a private picnic?

picking up a piece of halved mochi with the provided fork, you give the first bite to nagi who is more than happy to oblige, chewing on it with a satisfied expression.

he’s so cute, you could pinch him.

your eyes then flit over to the decorations on the table, reaching over to the branch of cherry blossoms in a vase before you could think, ripping off one of the sticks with the bloomed flower and putting it in nagi’s hair and behind his ears. his adorableness just tripled.

“aww you look really cute with pink!”

“ya think so?”

“yeah! you’re so pretty nagi,” you reach over to fiddle with the flower, not registering how close you’d gotten to him until you feel his breath fan across your face.

then you comprehend it, frozen in place for a second as you study nagi’s beauty from an angle you hadn’t before. how his snowy hair fanned perfectly over his forehead, the way the light bounced in the reflection of his eyes, and the imperfections that littered across his skin all contributed towards making the pretty being that was nagi seishiro.

he leans in. you freak out, instinctively turning your head.

your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel nagi’s lips brush against the corners of your mouth, lingering there for a moment before parting and the look of hurt that flashes across his face hurts your soul.

did you do the right thing? you thought you did- you know nagi isn’t into you the way you are into him. this relationship was made for media attraction, for him to gain more seconds of fame, so why does he keep acting like you two are real? why does he keep protecting your identity from the internet, why did he wear a disguise when meeting you when he would have wanted to boast that he was taken, why does he want to kiss you?

why does he look so hurt when he didn’t?

this was all so confusing.

tension lingers in the air for the rest of the date. you try to compensate for it by being a little more affectionate, giving in to your desires of openly loving him for the day. nagi’s satisfied.

you don’t notice how the cherry blossom fell from his ear.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you won’t find answers to your questions for a long time. in fact, the amount of questions you had quadrupled one night when you had spent the day at nagi’s apartment after work one day to watch a tv show that was on his ‘to-watch’ list.

“stay the night?” asks nagi, resting his head on your shoulder to give you his best puppy-dog eyes. you will yourself to not look at him by keeping your gaze firm on the television screen.

“oh this episode sounds good. maybe we can watch this then i’ll get going,” you mutter whilst fiddling with the remote, dutifully ignoring his pleads and the way he tugs at you; something that does not resonate well with him.

“oi. don’t ignore me.”

with a rough exhale, you finally turn towards him. “i can’t.”

“why not? we don’t have work tomorrow.”

“i know but i just feel bad to bother you and take up your space.”

“you’re not botherin’ me. there’s so much space here, it feels empty without you.”

“nagi-”

“-won’t you call me seishiro? or something more romantic?”

the relationship shifts with his very words and you feel the genuine desperation that bleeds from nagi through his tone. when you look him in the eye, part of you shines with hope that maybe your relationship was real and not bred for media benefit.

in this moment of weakness, you let the top of your walls crumble.

“okay, seishiro.”

he beams. a smile so pure that you shatter like glass in his hands. “yay.”

you then find yourself underneath him as he lays his entire body weight over you, pressing you into the comfortable cushions of his couch as his hands delicately run up and down your waist. paralysed with confusion at the amount of love he pours into his touch, you keep forgetting that the higher you climb, the harder the inevitable fall will be.

“stay the night, please?”

how could you say no when he was asking so nicely? “okay, seishiro.”

“yay.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“hey seishiro, are you ready?” you ask, fiddling with your rings as you round the corner of your living room where your oversized boyfriend is lounging across the couch whilst you got ready (boyfriend still feels weird to say even if he has zero problems with addressing himself by that title).

“yeah. let’s go-” he grumbles, cutting himself off when he glances over at you, eyes widening. “-whoa.”

heat rushes to your cheeks whilst nagi continues to shamelessly marvel at you, slowly standing up to cross the distance between you, his hands naturally hovering to hold your hips when he’s close enough. his gaze lingers even longer on the emerald necklace that sits between your collarbones. “like what you see?”

he stays silent for a second, leaving you to anticipate his answer. “we don’t have to go to isagi’s,” he mumbles. “how do we feel about staying in?”

“don’t. your best friend is hosting this party, can’t you at least show up for him?”

the white-haired sulks. “but you look so good. why should i celebrate that shortie instead of you?”

you push his face away, jokingly fed up with your boyfriend’s lazy attitude. “isagi is also my friend and i want to celebrate with him, just for an hour or two and then we can leave. deal?”

“fine.”

twenty minutes later, you arrive at isagi’s place where a good amount of his closest friends had gathered, showing up far earlier than you and nagi did.

truthfully, you were looking forward to isagi’s party since he was not throwing a massive rave where everyone was invited- those always ended up to be more unfortunate than fun in your opinion, and that wouldn’t exactly cater to his shy and sensible character. tonight was a gathering for his friends to hangout and celebrate. some you recognise from the team, some of them must be from high school or elsewhere.

bachira’s cheery face is the first one you see upon arrival, his smile wide as he practically bounces off the walls in excitement and you already begin to wonder just how many desserts and sweets he’s had upon arrival.

“hey it’s the couple of the century!” he exclaims with a wink. nagi keens at bachira’s compliment, all proud and boastful as his hand creeps up to hold your hip protectively. “lookin’ good as always!”

“yo, where’s isagi?” the white haired questions.

“around, i’ll take you to him c’mon!”

the two soccer players are off before you can even count to three, nagi and bachira disappearing into the crowd as the hyperactive boy drags your 190 cm of a boyfriend through the crowd. well, at least he took the gift you both bought with him, but now you feel a little alone and very awkward.

walking around the hallways of isagi’s, you feel a little out of place since most of them seemed to be high school friends. it’s not until you reached the kitchen that you sigh in relief, met with the familiar, friendly faces of chigiri and reo who see you first.

“hey!” the red-haired calls out, waving at you as you walk over to them. “it’s good to see you, y/n, how are you?”

“hey chigiri, hey reo, i’m good! i just arrived but this seems like a cool gathering. isagi’s really outdone himself,” you greet.

“yeah he did. good way to unwind before the soccer season gets too crazy,” reo chips in. “nice outfit by the way, you served!”

“oh shut up, you look amazing yourself. you too chigiri.”

“so… where’s nagi?” the purple-haired asks, checking his phone to see if he had received any texts from his best friend. “didn’t he come with you?”

“yeah but bachira dragged him to go talk to isagi as soon as i arrived. you know how he is.”

after a few more minutes of talking with the two, you finally pause the conversation out of concern about nagi’s whereabouts might be. you thought he’d come and find you after a while but guess you’ll search for him first.

informing the pair first before breaking away, you wander into the rooms where bachira pulled nagi into, blindly hoping that they’ll be in there. to your chagrin, there were only a few unfamiliar faces spread along the couches, discussing something with a drink in their hand. you ignore the sight of otoya and one of isagi’s friends sitting too close for comfort.

when you walk into the next room, you stop in your tracks at the sight in front of you: nagi leaning against the wall with a stranger who clearly has no distinction of personal space, their hand resting on his chest. your heart plunges the bottom of your stomach as distraught settles within you because of the scene unfolding in front of you, chest churning with a distant ache that you can’t put your finger on.

then he looks over at you.

the instinct to turn around and run overpowers any rational judgement, especially when a flurry of emotions begin to well up inside you, causing you to sink further and further in an ocean of doubt and fear.

you had no right to be jealous, not over nagi because you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, he’s not really yours and it’s moment like these that truly humble you into remembering. you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, you’re just his ‘pseudo-partner’, you’re just his-

“-where are you going?” comes an indifferent voice from behind you. all anxiety floods out of you like a broken dam. a warm, large hand tugs on your wrist and even if he had not spoke, you’d know from touch alone that it was nagi behind you. the multitude of times that he’s spent holding you, intertwining his hand with yours, and cherishing you has forced you to brand him into your memory.

you are his. even if it is not mutual, you would be his until he stomps the fire out.

“i-i thought i was interrupting something,” you stammer, looking into at nagi’s doe eyes.

“you didn’t. actually, you made it better by coming,” he says before wrapping his arms around your torso. “that person wouldn’t leave me alone, such a pain. tried to say i was taken too, so glad you came.”

you return the hug, trusting his words. “glad i came too.”

nagi pulls you out of the water.

“can we leave yet? i don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“just a little longer. i haven’t even seen isagi yet. plus, we should dance.”

he gives you a quick look up and down before nodding in agreement. you smack his shoulder.

you manage to locate isagi rather quickly. he was near the food bar where refreshments and various desserts and snacks laid so after greeting him, wishing him ‘happy birthday’, and chatting with him for approximately five minutes before nagi started getting bitchy, you’re pulled into the dance floor by the white-haired. he said that they were playing a good song when you asked why he was being so impatient.

with a laugh, you give in.

nagi doesn’t really know how to dance but you can’t help but be a little entertained, deciding to end his awkwardness when you grab his hands and lead him through some moves, singing along to the song with each other. it ends with your arms around his neck and his around your waist (again) when a slower song plays.

hiding your face in his chest, you breathe in the subtle aroma of his cologne that you urged him to put on earlier. when he gently prompts you to look up at him with a hand gently pulling on your hair, your breath gets caught in your throat at the close proximity as nagi stares at your lips, glancing up to meet your eyes again before leaning in.

this time you don’t feel as cruel, bracing yourself for the first sip of water after crossing the desert, for the final puzzle piece clicking into place, for the feeling of his lips slotting against yours; for the feeling of completion.

instantly you relax at the sensation, melting into his embrace as you hold onto him a little tighter, wanting more. you want to take as much of him as he’ll allow and even then, you’ll cherish every last part.

you want him the same way the ocean longs for the moon.

parting from him makes you feel empty. the lidded look he gives you is full of temptation and… love?

snapping out of your reverie, you step away from him, using his dazed state to create some distance between the two of you as you come to your senses. senses that scream at you for possibly ruining… this.

you hate that you keep running away from him, leaving him in the dust of the mess that are your feelings. it’s immature, irrational, and downright childish, really it is, but how else can you stop the way you’re about to burst at the seams? how can you stop yourself from devoting yourself fully to nagi seishiro if you don’t forcefully screw the lid over your emotions?

for the second time tonight, the white-haired chases after you because there was never another option. he despises being away from you and despises it even more when it’s him you’re running away from, wanting nothing more than to be by your side at all times.

for the second time tonight, he grabs your wrist but now, he leads you through isagi’s house, weaving through a series of well-kept and simply decorated rooms to finally arrive at a balcony. one that was untouched by the party goers.

“why do you keep doing this?” he asks, pleading for an answer as desperation laces his voice and eyes. “why do you keep running away?”

you’re stunned. he’s hurt by your carelessness and the way you constantly recoil from him as if he was electric, his powerful figure slouching, all his quiet confidence and stubbornness seeping out of him, running to pool at your feet.

“am i doing something wrong? i thought you liked me.”

“i-i’m confused,” you stammer stupidly.

he grows even more perplexed. “you’re confused? i’m even more confused! one second i think you like me then the next, you’re trying to avoid me. why do you keep doing this? i really really like you, y/n. but it doesn’t feel like you like me at all sometimes.”

“no!” you blurt out. “it’s not like that! i do like you, a lot, in fact i might even… love you? it’s just…”

as you try to recap the timeline of your relationship in the past few months, you find yourself at a loss for words as you truly realise the multitude of your stupidity. you might slap yourself in the face.

this entire time, nagi has liked you- genuinely liked you for who you are yet you’ve been denying the love he has been trying to share with you since you internalised it all to be a sham. that someone like nagi seishiro couldn’t want you in the same way you wanted him. you’ve been hurting him this entire time and you don’t know how to begin explaining why.

well… no other option than with one word at a time.

you go to grab both his hands, inhaling. “i didn’t think we got together based on genuine feelings.”

he recoils, eyebrows and nose scrunching.

“i thought you were using me to- i don’t know, trend on the internet by teasing everyone with some sort of secret relationship which sounds so stupid, i know, but i just couldn’t believe that you would want me for me,” you ramble, only stopping to breathe. “these few months have been amazing but i lowkey thought you were going to break up with me and say something like ‘surprise! i’ve never liked you’ before leaving me. i don’t deserve someone like you and-”

“what?”

you shut up.

“you thought you don’t deserve me? that’s the biggest lie i’ve ever heard. you’re perfect. i was the one that got lucky.”

“lucky? you? really?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “you’re like a gift sent by fate.”

that renders you speechless for a little. there’s more to say, you know there is because of the pregnant silence that lingers around the two of you for a little but maybe that’s for another time.

are you dreaming? this feels surreal. maybe you’ll start floating too.

“also, why would i want to trend for any other reason but soccer?”

“i don’t know! you asked me out really abruptly- i’ve never been asked out like that before! talk about confusing. and the paparazzi was waiting for us after too like, what was i supposed to think!”

“i see.”

“yeah.”

more silence.

“so… you love me?” nagi asks and you groan, removing your hands from his to cover your face from embarrassment.

“i guess i do,” you grumble.

“hey, don’t hide from me,” the white-haired says before grabbing your wrists to lower them from your face. “i love you too.”

“really?”

“yeah.”

“that’s cool.”

“it is.”

you do both of you a favour by kissing him fervently.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“sei, shouldn’t you be getting ready for the match or whatever it is you athletes do?” you ask when nagi’s mop of white hair peaks up from behind the door to your physio office.

he steps out from behind the doorframe, crossing the distance to get to you. he’s sporting his blue lock tracksuit with his hands dug into his pocket and you’re a little envious of how comfortable he looks. “i was until i realised you weren’t there. i was waiting for you to show up.”

“well i don’t really have to be there early. i just get there around 20 or so minutes earlier.”

“i see.”

“why, did you want me there or something?” you ask with a cheeky eyebrow raise, poking him in his sides causing him to recoil a little from your touch.

“why else would i walk all this way?”

“a stunning 50 metres- i’m so sorry for your perilous journey,” you comment, placing a kiss on his cheek before walking away from him to set up your box of medical supplies including kinesio tapes, bandages, and cold spray. he slumps down on the waiting couch near the entrance.

your role as blue lock’s official therapist meant that you had to be on standby for the team at all time during official matches. even though you aren’t their nurse, you still bring first aid things like ice packs to minimise the amount of time spent travelling between offices, especially if that distance is not needed.

after scanning the box for the last time and mentally ticking your checklist of materials required to bring, you pat your leg in satisfaction before standing up. “i can go to the field now. there’s probably tape changes that i need to do.”

nagi lazily grins, searching for your hand to help pull himself up. “yay.”

“you need to be warming up while we’re at it.”

“aw. okay.”

the walk back to the field is painless enough with nagi holding onto your hand for dear life whilst carrying your box of supplies for you. for someone who is about to compete in less than an hour, he is surprisingly calm, hardly different from his passive, pacifistic self. should you be nervous on his behalf?

stepping in to the field, you’re overwhelmed by the enormousness of blue lock’s home stadium, the lights shining down on you so brightly that you need a moment to recollect yourself. to think that all these empty seats will be filled with various people scares you mindless; even vacant it was still overwhelming.

“y/n!” isagi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie and he jogs over to you with that friendly smile of his. “what’s up?”

“hey isagi, sei dragged me out of my office,” you grumble before turning around to the white-haired who places your supplies on the ground, instructing him to: “go continue warming up.”

he grumbles something incoherent, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead before running off, leaving you a little flustered as the dark-haired player waits patiently to talk to you.

“so what’s up?”

“i just needed my ankle to be retaped, is that okay?”

“that is my job so come over,” you say, beckoning isagi to one of the benches nearby where you decide to station yourself for the time being.

whilst you’re unrolling the adhesive, he awkwardly sits there with his shoe and sock off, exposing his joint where he already you tape it for him.

“do you want pink or blue tape?” you ask, holding up the two options.

“pink.”

the background noises of athletes shouting and kicking soccer balls fill the silence whilst you cut up the length needed to tape isagi’s ankle.

“how are you and nagi?” he asks.

“we’re good,” you respond, mentally reminding yourself to give isagi a present in exchange for his birthday being the sole reason why your relationship strengthened. “both been busy cause of the season but it’s fine.”

“that’s okay, you’re making it work!” he reassures, “well, nagi is really happy.”

“is he now?” you ask, looking intently at your hands as they worked around isagi’s ankle, hiding your giddy expression from the soccer player. the effect nagi has on you will never disappear.

“yeah! always talks about you to us.”

“does he?”

“of course, why wouldn’t he? swears you’re the best thing to have happened to him in a long time or whatever.”

your heart warms uncontrollably. nagi seishiro was going to be your downfall.

finishing up on isagi’s ankle, he tests it out quickly before thanking you and running off again to blend in with his teammates again. ‘don’t work too hard!’ you yell out after him.

after retaping chigiri’s knee, commanding karasu to do his recommended exercises, and other various checkups, the boys are ushered back into the stadium so the audience could begin filing in. before nagi went in, he runs over to you, bundling you in his arms despite the various exclaims of ‘hurry up!’ yelled at your white-haired partner.

“gotta go,” he says breathily.

“wait, shouldn’t you take this off?” you ask, gesturing to your hair tie which sat snugly at his wrist.

“do i have to?”

“you can always rewear it after the match sei, it’s not a big deal.”

“fine. i’ll see you soon then.”

you give him a smile of reassurance, hugging him back. “go. i’ll be watching, my superstar.”

his eyes shine. “cheer for me, won’t you?”

“of course i will. i’m your lucky charm,” you tease but he takes your statement quite literally, grinning at what you say which only illuminates the cheery look on his face.

“can my lucky charm give me a kiss?”

cupping his face, you quickly place a peck on his nose before lightly pushing him away. you know the kiss is not good enough to satiate his hunger but perhaps that’s just what you want from him, to try hard for a better reward. and in this case, by trying harder, he would bring home the trophy.

“go line up!” you command.

nagi grumbles something before stepping away, “i’ll score for you.”

he dashes towards the stadium entrance, leaving you in a lovesick daze as you watch him retreat. someone clears their throat behind you and you remember where you are, sitting down to preserve some professionalism.

sitting in the medics corner was scary, especially as you watch every seat getting gradually filled with an onslaught of different people, but all you need to do for the 90 minutes is watch and be attentive to the game and the health of the players. an easy job for the amount of pay you get.

when the teams walks out into the field, everyone in the stands erupt into a roar, waving their various flags and colours. despite the chaos, nagi looks over at you and you blow him a kiss, unsure of whether or not he could actually see you.

as everything settles down, the match finally begins, starting off with a bang. from time to time you talk with the two other blue lock medics and spend the other moments admiring your boyfriend in his athletic glory.

it’s not until almost halftime that something disastrous happens. when itoshi rin collides face-first into another player, toppling over on the field on top of each other, the crowd erupts into a series of gasps and concerned noises. as the referee’s whistle is called, you three official blue lock staff scramble to the middle of the field where a crowd was gathering around the two, trying to help their soccer players but stepping out of the way when you approach.

“where are you?” one medic begins asking.

“the stadium. we’re in the middle of a match,” comes rin’s gruff tone.

“you are?”

“itoshi rin.”

“how many fingers am i holding up?”

“four.”

“what hurts?”

“my fucking face,” rin snarkily replies, trying to stand up but not making it past his knees as he stumbles a little, holding on to his nose. “shit.”

taking his hand away, there are droplets of red coating his skin and you snake yourself under his arm in order to assist with helping him to the medic’s area, another nurse doing the same. hopefully it’s not serious and he won’t need be to sent to hospital, only benched by ego. which, he was.

in your panic, you don’t register any of the commotion happening within the players themselves whereas nagi, on the other hand, hears it all clearly. how a player on the team he was playing against says something like ‘look at that cutie. reckon i could cuff ‘em?’ where his friend replies with a ‘yeah dude. seems like a babe to be honest, workin’ as a nurse and shit’, geturing to you.

nagi has never felt such an overwhelming urge to punch someone, to jump the two players and tear them apart with the fury he feels accumulating in his insides.

the whistle to notify that the game was continuing disrupts nagi’s train of thought. he goes back into position but not without snaring at the opposition.

blue lock seems to be doing fine without their number one player for the remainder of the game; in fact, nagi is practically dominating the whole field as he shoots, earning goals left and right for blue lock. he’s moving with unmatched determination; a blazing kind that you’ve never seen from him despite having seen countless of his games. you wonder what happened to him since rin got injured, where did the calm, unbothered nagi go? why are you kind of scared of your boyfriend right now?

maybe your good luck kiss worked in giving him the boost you predicted.

however, you never could have predicted the huge turnaround that your life would take when nagi’s jealousy gets too ahead of itself. when his urge to show the world whose you are outspeaks his rationality, too caught up in the torments of untamed jealousy. he’s never felt this way before; a carnal desire so inherent that it makes him feel bare.

only you could do this to him.

and only you could fix the ugly monster inside him

when blue lock scores the goal needed to take the trophy home, the stadium is deafening, so loud that you need to cover your ears from the unrestrained passion of fans and watchers alike, the buzz of excitement unmatched.

nagi is awarded man of the match, taking home a shiny trophy in recognition of his athleticism and remarkable talents. yet the first thing he does when taking his prize is not rush over to his teammates and… do whatever it is that men do, but to run over to where you reside, a possessive and dark look in his eyes. it sends shivers down your spine.

he sweeps you into his arms, winding you so close that you can feel the body heat radiating from him, even through the fabric of his jersey. the trophy presses against your back.

“can i kiss you?” nagi questions although it sounds more like a demand, especially with that breathy voice due to how much he’s been running around.

short circuiting for a moment, you reply: “but everyone’s watching.”

“let them.”

you’re well aware of the multitude of cameras that may be pointed at you and nagi. if you act stupidly, it will appear on the internet and who knows what repercussions it might bring, are you ready to be thrown into a life of chaos, joining alongside your boyfriend?

the answer is obvious when you take the initiative of kissing him, allowing him to devour you whole: his first act of establishing just exactly who you were to the entire world.

you adore how scandalous this feels.

his second act comes mere minutes later at the exit where paparazzi and media were waiting patiently behind barriers for their star players. this time, instead of leaving alone or with his teammates, there’s an unidentified figure accompanying him, hugged close to his side and proudly wearing his jersey. the very one that boasts ‘NAGI’ along the back. everything descends into chaos.

an immense feeling of deja vu encompasses you when you recall the day nagi asked you out and the overwhelming lineup of paparazzi and photographers that waited for him outside. it’s different now. you feel confident in your place beside nagi, looking perfect to him in his clothes- as if you were meant to be his.

nagi walks in front of you to use his stature to protect from the greedy eyes of the internet whilst you use your hands to cover your face as best as possible, all to ensure your privacy from those who are going to eat these photos up when they see them.

and- well, if everyone is going to see them then why not send a little message whilst nagi’s here?

the kiss nagi sneaks on your neck is entirely proprietorial, a clear sign of affection for the whole world to see as he eyes the cameras with a deadly look in his eyes.

“mine,” he mutters in your ear, sending one last glare over his shoulder before disappearing from their nosiness and intruding flashes.

the cameras can see your hair tie that slips up when his sleeves are tugged too short.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your notifications are rampant the next morning, mostly because of friends, and ‘#nagi seishiro’ has taken the internet by storm once again.

this feeling of anxiety settling in your stomach will never go away whenever you check social media to see if any of your information has been leaked and by whatever miracle, you’re absolutely relieved to see that nothing drastic has been revealed.

speaking of boyfriend, nagi stirs from where he lays beside you, stretching for a moment before patting the bed in search for your warmth.

shutting off your phone and putting it down, you watch him try to locate you, unable to stop the smile from stretching at the corner of your lips. he’s adorable. even more so when he has to open one eye because his instincts were failing him.

“oh. why are you awake?” he asks groggily, still adjusting to consciousness. nagi tries to sit up to rest on his elbows only to fail miserably and fall face-first into his lush pillow.

“body clock,” you say. you’ll talk about yesterday later. right now, it was just you and him and the soft glow of the sun saying good morning.

“turn it off and go back to sleep.”

“fine.”

“c’mere,” nagi beckons you over weakly, hands reaching for your figure but falling short due to the enormous size of his bed.

it’s not like nagi to splurge on things but it is like him to splurge on getting the most comfortable bed ever, so when he demands you to fall back asleep, how could you say no when it feels like napping on a cloud? and with your adorable boyfriend? some things in life come too easy.

shuffling back towards him, he’s quick to throw an arm and a leg around you, trapping you in.

“my body hurts,” whines nagi. “so much.”

“what do you want me to do about that?”

“massage later, please?”

“is that all i am to you?” you question teasingly whilst rubbing hearts into his skin.

“maybe,” he sings.

astounded, you give him your best look of betrayal. “we’re breaking up.”

“no, don’t do that,” nagi pleads, hugging you closer as if you were going to get up from his vice grip in the first place. “don’t be mean.”

“oh sure because i’m the mean one,” you joke as he burrows his head into your neck. instinctively, your hands card through his hair, extra soft from washing it last night. after a moment of silence, you speak up. “you’re trending again because of me so just remember that what i said about our fame-grabbing relationship was true.”

“i didn’t mean for that to happen. i’m just too good,” he takes his head out of your neck, doe eyes looking up at you with heart wrenching awe. “and i love you too much to hide it.”

you pat his cheek, unable to stop a wide, dreamy smile from appearing on your face. “go back to sleep.”

“‘k. goodnight.” the second nagi’s head hits his pillow, he’s out like a light.

it’s a little surreal to be wrapped in his embrace like this, to be able to gaze at his features so closely and unabashedly whilst his arms extend to mould you into him. even being as close as humanly possible isn’t enough for nagi who has an unlimited desire for more, at all times.

if it’s you he wants, then you’ll happily grant it.

the last thing you see before falling into a deep slumber is a hair tie that lies on his bedside table.

#pls be nice to me i'm really fragile rn i'm sorry this wasn't amazing #nagi x reader #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro x reader #seishiro x reader #nagi x you #nagi drabble #blue lock x reader #blue lock nagi x reader #blue lock drabble #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff

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keravnous · 1 month

Text

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

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