#and the anxiety is raising by the minutes and fuck

[rougecreator1]

will you write Regina has anxiety

And shifty family as a bonus

Shattered Glass ||

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings: anxiety about weight and appearance, swearing, Ms. George being slightly pushy, mentions of toxic!Cady

|| Summary: Reader watched Regina get ready for school, comforting her when she had to end up wearing jogging pants because nothing else fit.

Requests open!

Started: April 21st

Finished: April 21st

I wrote this in one go 💪

~~~

Everything about her looks had to be perfect. Regina George was supposed to be the embodiment of an angelic figure who walked the Earth. Living amongst mortals. Perfect...

In her eyes, she was glass. Appears solid on the outside, beautiful, perfection. Inside? She was fragile. Like she could shatter at any minute. But she never let any of that show.

Today was no exception.

You were in her room, watching Regina get ready for school as you had stayed the night. You watched with a raised eyebrow as your girlfriend kept throwing clothes out of her closet every so often.

Regina screamed in frustration.

"Why does nothing fit?!" She yelled, your face shifted to concern as you got off the bed and joined her in the closet. Your gaze meeting hers.

You could tell she was panicking, there was a small difference in her eyes that gave it away.

"Baby..." You whispered, taking a step forward and cupping her cheeks with your hands. She leaned into your touch and sighed deeply. Hands resting on your wrists.

"Nothing fits." She whispered, looking into your eyes as one of your hands went down to her waist. Brushing your thumb against it gently as she continued," None of my clothes fit. What the hell am I supposed to wear?"

Her breathing felt quicker than normal. Your eyes widened just slightly when you noticed this. You knew you had to get her to relax first, the clothes could be a later issue.

"Deep breath, focus on me." You whisper back, keeping your voice soft and calm as the hand that was on her waist takes her hand. Holding it close to your chest.

She watched your movement, trying to follow your command. Regina did her best to pace her breathing with yours before looking into your eyes again.

The glass wall of perfection she had worked so hard to keep up had started to shatter. Her mind raced, appearance was everything to her. To the plastics. She shot a nervous glance towards her jogging pants.

It was Thursday.

Regina couldn't wear those.

But what choice did she have?

She knew it would be the only thing that fit her.

Your eyes followed her gaze and you gave her hand a comforting squeeze," G. They're your friends, right? I'm sure they'll understand." You tell her softly. Regina looks back at you, that anxiety lingered in her eyes. Even if she wasn't outwardly showing it.

"You're right. Yeah. Those rules are stupid and made up anyway. They don't actually matter." Regina convinced herself, you nodded in agreement and gave her forehead a soft kiss.

"Want me to leave so you can change?" You asked, Regina raised an eyebrow at that.

Momentarily distracted from her anxiety.

"What?" She replied.

Now you were confused," I just thought maybe-"

"Stay put." Regina cuts you off, not letting you finish your sentence as she makes you sit down on the seat in her closet," It's not anything you haven't fucking seen before."

Okay, she had a fair point.

Your cheeks flushed at her comment as she changed into her outfit. You did as told and stayed put.

Jogging pants and the blue zip up hoodie. She stared at herself in the mirror, you stood and wrapped your arms around her from behind. Arms wrapped comfortably around her waist as you pulled her in close. Thumb gently rubbing her hip in soothing motions.

"Angelic as always, baby." You assure her, kissing her jawline. You feel her relax and that's when you get an idea.

"Can we stop by my house before we go to school?" You asked.

"Yeah, sure. Forget something?" Regina looked back at you.

"Something like that." You nodded, an idea forming in your head.

The two of you hanged out in her room for a bit longer before getting ready to go, wanting to leave earlier than usual so Regina could get to your place with enough time to also go to the school.

As you both walked downstairs, hand in hand. Ms. George walked over and stopped when she saw Regina's clothes.

"Honey, no. It's Thursday." She states with a frown, looking directly at the jogging pants.

You felt Regina tense and gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"Get off my back, Mom." Regina muttered, walking past Ms. George.

"Regina-" Before she could say anything else, you and Regina had already left and were getting into her jeep.

The drive to your place was silent, you wanted to comfort Regina but you also didn't want to push her further. You knew she reached her limit for the day already and didn't want to make things worse for her.

When she got to yours, you quickly rushed out and to your room. Doing a quick change of clothes, matching (sort of) with Regina. You wore a pair of black joggers, a white zip up sweater and to top it all off you did your hair up for the second time that week. Breaking two of the "rules" so Regina didn't feel alone.

Once changed and ready, you quickly ran back out to Regina's jeep. She took one look at you and a smile tugged at her lips.

"That's what you wanted to do?" She looks at you, her gaze shifting to the clothes you wore before coming back to your eyes.

You nodded and smiled," They won't kick both of us out, right?"

Regina nodded and relaxed more, you got into the jeep and she gave you a deep kiss to show she was grateful for what you did.

Oh, and they did kick both of you from the table. Fucking Cady.

#x reader #fem reader #canon x reader #fanfic #wlw fiction #mean girls #mean girls x reader #regina george #regina george x fem!reader

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Namjoon

Namjoon is tired. He is tired of waiting to hear from Yoongi. He is tired of allowing his exhaustion to continue pushing you away.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Namjoon x Female Reader x Yoongi

🗡️ word count: 7.3k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: mention of Jeongguk & reader doing drugs (mdma, coke), drinking champagne, and getting sexy (oral) - all off screen; Namjoon reminiscing about the day Yoongi almost got married; oral sex (allusion to squirting); discussion of blood & head wounds; worry and anxiety.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 2nd person (you/your) pronouns for this chapter since she appears more than just in passing!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @neoneunnajimin - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally dec. 2023 | read on ao3

As soon as Namjoon wakes up, he feels a swell of anxiety begin at the center of his chest and work its way through his limbs. He rolls from his right side onto his back and breathes slow and deep, attempting to center himself and quash the feelings of discontent. 

He hates it when Yoongi goes silent. 

No matter how many times Yoongi swears that he is never going to fall back into old habits, Namjoon cannot help but worry, especially after the recent incident in Paris. More than once, he has found the man he loves with one foot in the grave. He cannot do it again. 

He also hates the way distance has begun to build between the two of you. And he knows that it is all a product of his own insecurity—that the walls climb high as the heavens whenever he is scared out of his fucking mind and does not know whether he can turn to others. But he cannot bring himself to tell you all of his fears. 

How could he? How can he look you in the eyes and admit that he is terrified of losing the man both of you love so much? 

Namjoon groans as he stretches, raising his arms high over his head. He slept well for the first time in weeks, and although he feels a little guilty for feeling like he has to get out of Yoongi's mansion in order to accomplish his momentary peace, he is glad to know that you have found a distraction, as dangerous of a distraction as it may be.

The sights and smells of his home are strange to Namjoon after spending so much time in Yoongi's bed, storing things in Yoongi's closet, and cleaning off the stress and grime from his days in Yoongi's shower. But it also feels nice to have a place to get away and center himself. 

As soon as he walked through his door last night, Namjoon let out a sigh of relief mixed with worry. For days, he has wondered if leaving the mansion and essentially shutting you out completely could do more harm than good. But after several nights of horrible sleep, compounded with days of being in a stressed, shitty mood, he decided that for his sake and for yours, a night away would be best. 

Of course, you had to wake up and notice he was gone. And, of course, you had to run off to the one maniac who could potentially cause you even greater physical and emotional turmoil. 

Namjoon still has no idea why Yoongi and Taehyung think it is a good idea for you and Jeongguk to get along so well, but he also does not object enough to ask you not to. Due mostly to the fact that he feels he does not have any place asking you not to spend time with him. 

He has no issue with sharing you, and as long as Yoongi is happy, he is happy. But Jeongguk is a loose cannon, and Namjoon just knows that the two of you together could be absolutely volatile, much like Jeongguk and Ryujin were all those years ago. 

With a final stretch and yawn, Namjoon rolls over and picks up his phone. As always, he is awake around fifteen minutes before his 7:00 AM alarm, and he is surprised to find several text messages from Jeongguk. 

Gguk: Hey, hyung! Don't be mad, but I gave our buttercup molly. And coke. And champagne. She's fine physically, but she's not having a great time emotionally. What antidepressant is she taking? Probably should have asked her that before I suggested we roll. 

Gguk: Any word from Yoongi? I have a feeling his absence is really wearing her down. Although…I'm sure you already know that. I don't mean to assume you don't.

Gguk: Also, hello, good morning, I hope you are doing well! 

Namjoon rolls his eyes and chuckles, shaking his head. Jeongguk is already a handful, but on MDMA, the poor guy tends to spiral. In fact, Namjoon is shocked that none of the messages contain an I love you or an I miss you or a Do you hate me?

Namjoon:  Oh, boy, what have you kids been getting into??? ;) I can check on the antidepressant when I return to Yoon's place. Is she feeling any better?

Namjoon: I haven't heard anything from Yoon in a couple of days. Thinking about making a trip to Hong Kong, though. Think you can hold down the fort? I don't really want to ask Seokjin.

Namjoon wears only a pair of blue boxer shorts, and he tosses aside his forest green comforter to place his feet down onto a matching forest green area rug, then walks to his closet. With Yoongi away, he has been dressing more comfortably in jeans and sweaters, refraining from wearing any black. 

Sometimes it feels nice to just be Kim Namjoon, and ignore the rest of the titles that come with the name. Sometimes he likes to pretend he isn't The Dragon. 

He picks out a soft medium-blue sweater and loose-fit blue jeans. He does not style his hair, nor does he put on jewelry or a watch. When his phone vibrates in his pocket just moments after he slips it in, he hesitates before pulling it out. In his heart, he knows that it is not Yoongi, which only makes the thought of checking the message sting a little more. 

The stress Namjoon feels while torturing a man within an inch of his life pales in comparison to that he experiences when Yoongi is avoidant. 

Namjoon does not bother to make his bed. He leaves his closet, takes a left, and goes into his large ensuite bathroom. All of the cabinets and furnishings are handcrafted from driftwood with ceramic knobs and handles. The tile is a neutral tan, and Namjoon chuckles softly when he sees the room that feels far more like home than the black and gold Yoongi loves so much. 

If only Yoongi would allow him to redecorate. Namjoon thinks maybe Yoongi enjoys shit being so gloomy, to a fault. 

He brushes his teeth and washes his face, then after he is patted dry and ready to return to the mansion, he pulls his phone from his pocket. He considers shooting you a text to ask whether you are hungry and interested in joining him for breakfast when he sees Jeongguk's message. 

Gguk: Of course, of course. I can keep an eye on shit while you leave. Also, I'm going to bring buttercup back to you soon. She misses you a lot. Are you at the mansion or your place?

Namjoon: My place, but heading to the mansion now. Have you eaten?

Gguk: Well, I got to eat but she didn't…;)

Namjoon leaves his bedroom and makes his way down the hall toward the stairs, thumbs lingering over his keyboard as he laughs and reads over Jeongguk's message.

Namjoon: Bragging about eating my girlfriend's pussy? You know, I've killed men for less. 

Hanging in Namjoon's hallway are photos from over the years of him and the family men, but most of them are photos of himself and Yoongi. Although he does not stop to look at most of them anymore, he feels the presence of their nostalgia every time he walks by, and he does lift his eyes to glance at a particular photo at the top of the stairs that is much larger than all the others. 

In the photo, Namjoon is looking at the camera, holding onto a big, colorful bouquet of flowers. His hair is shorter and lightened blond with a lavender tint, and he wears a black turtleneck, black slacks, and a black trench coat. Yoongi teased him earlier that day for coming to his wedding dressed for a funeral, but in a way, that was what it felt like.

What had already begun as a tumultuous day with the man he loves promised to get married had turned extremely sour when news of the father of the bride-to-be's betrayal spread like wildfire. Namjoon still remembers the look of fear on Ryujin's face when whispers reached the back of the church as she was walking down the aisle. 

The bouquet Namjoon holds in the photo is the one she dropped before running out. And in this particular photo, Namjoon and Yoongi are standing side by side. 

Yoongi does not look at the camera, however. Yoongi looks at Namjoon. 

He stands in his tailored black suit and bow tie, dark hair cut shorter than Namjoon has seen it in years, and he looks up at Namjoon with an expression that is so soft and so loving that seven years later, it still takes his breath away. 

The feeling in Namjoon's heart that day was a strange one. 

On the one hand, he remembers feeling an immense amount of relief. For a while things with Ryujin had been strained and weird, and he had really been struggling to figure out where he fit at Yoongi's side. 

Leading up to the wedding, there had been insinuations that once the two of them were married, Namjoon would have to take a step back and end whatever was going on between him and Yoongi. Because of this, he had been feeling a deep sense of grief that was impacting his ability to think clearly and be there for the family as Yoongi's right hand.

But then, with her out of the picture, he felt lighter. Like a weight had lifted from his shoulders and the sun was shining for him once more. 

He also remembers feeling kind of guilty. Yoongi was unreadable as always and none of the other guys were giving him a chance to fully process what had happened. 

Rather, they all seemed intent on dragging him around the property and making him pose for photos as if the wedding had never been called off. They reasoned it didn't make sense to let the photographer's skills go to waste. After all, everyone was dressed to impress and looking dapper. 

Yoongi seemed to be masking whatever he felt with shyness, keeping his eyes on his feet while the photographer positioned him in front of the various installations of his parents' gardens. Of his gardens.

"Mister Kim?" the photographer said at one point, making Namjoon perk up and ask, "Hmm?"

She looked at Namjoon as if waiting for him to return to earth and join the rest of his friends, and it only then occurred to him that the six of them were standing in front of one the archways, watching Namjoon impatiently. 

"Oh," Namjoon muttered, stepping forward to get into line with the others. 

Despite there being space between Yoongi and Jeongguk, Namjoon began to shuffle down to the far right of the group. But Jimin took him by the sleeve, muttering, "Get by his side," forcing Namjoon to stop in his tracks and course-correct. All he had ever wanted was to be beside Yoongi at all times…he just wasn't sure that it was where he belonged. 

It was palpable the way Yoongi relaxed as soon as Namjoon took his place by his side and instinctively lifted an arm around his thin waist. In an instant, Namjoon felt shy, and he struggled to look into the camera, only lifting his gaze and smile when he was told to. 

But little by little everyone let loose, and they dragged the kind photographer all over the estate, climbing the statues and shrubberies to pose for photos. He could almost hear the worried sound of Yoongi's mother scolding them for being so reckless, making him miss her dearly. She would have loved to see her son dressed in a tuxedo.

"Anyone wanna pose as the bride?" the photographer asked near the end of their impromptu session. "I grabbed the bouquet just in case."

Namjoon hadn't noticed the bouquet that Ryujin dropped hanging from the strap of the photographer's camera bag, but there it was. Wildflowers and roses hand-picked from the very gardens they posed in—the gardens that Yoongi's mother tended for years—gathered in a beautiful arrangement with white satin and lace. The photographer held it out toward the group, delighted when Jimin swiped it. 

Briefly, Namjoon thought Jimin would look beautiful next to Yoongi—that those would be fun photos to look back at once the dust had settled and Yoongi had a chance to cope. But then Jimin shoved the bouquet into Namjoon's chest, making him gasp and stumble awkwardly, gripping onto the satin-covered stems. 

"Jimin what are you—"

"Don't be stupid," Jimin interrupted quickly, taking Namjoon by the shoulders and forcing him to rotate and walk backward to be at Yoongi's side once more. 

All of the guys knew about Yoongi and Namjoon—Yoongi had never been interested in keeping it a secret. But he still couldn't help but wonder at the time if all of it might have been too much for Yoongi. 

"Joon," Yoongi said quietly, kicking butterflies in his tummy and making it hard for him to breathe. "You good?"

And although Namjoon nodded and said, "Yeah, of course," he could only glance at Yoongi standing by his side, feeling all too aware of how they must have looked: like a couple. Like a married couple. 

Namjoon swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, then he finally turned to the man he loved so dearly and offered a smile. "You look really handsome today," he said, watching as Yoongi regarded him with a soft, wide-eyed stare. 

Shyly, Namjoon turned to the camera, bouquet held against his chest, and smiled. He hoped that his face was not as red hot as it felt, suddenly a bit claustrophobic in his turtleneck and long jacket. 

"Perfect," the photographer said, looking over the viewfinder before taking a step back and lining up another shot. "Can I get both of you to look at me?"

Namjoon continued to smile into the camera while Yoongi shifted beside him, and the warmth of Yoongi's arm against his made him relax a little more. They took several more shots this way, and Namjoon almost lamented it coming to an end.

But the photographer convinced them to do some funny poses in several more spots around the garden, and with the cheering of their friends, the two of them really got into their roles. Namjoon carried Yoongi bridal style for various shots, and Yoongi surprised him with how playful he became, holding out the bouquet and kicking his feet out the way a bride might have.

When the day wrapped up and the photographer bowed to take her leave, Namjoon felt happier than he had in years. If only he could tell Yoongi. If only he could ask whether Yoongi felt the same. 

With both of Yoongi's parents gone and the responsibility of all of the operations being thrust into his lap with no guidance, Namjoon knew then that the lightness they shared that day would likely never return. What he would have given for things between them to just be simple. 

"We look like a married couple," Yoongi joked when they got the photo back, and in that moment, Namjoon knew he had to frame it and put it on display in his home. 

Often, over the years, Namjoon has considered what it would be like for the two of them to actually be a married couple. Namjoon has always thought he would trade absolutely everything to make it happen, if only he could. He feels that way now, looking at the photo with a heaviness in his chest.

Namjoon's phone vibrates in his hand, pulling him from his thoughts, and he lifts it to check the notification without unlocking the device. It takes a moment for him to remember what his last message said—that he has killed a man for less than bragging about sexually pleasing his girlfriend.

Gguk: Big deal, so have I!

With a scoff, Namjoon slides his phone back into his pocket and begins to devise a plan. Foremost, he needs to get in touch with Yoongi's chef. He should have arrived at the mansion several hours ago, and Namjoon is craving eggs benedict. 

Next, he needs to get in touch with someone in Hong Kong. Yoongi may not be responding, but he knows Uiseok or Wonjin will talk. 

He just needs to go to Hong Kong and assure himself that Yoongi is safe. From there, he hardly cares what comes next. In fact, he could use some time away from Seoul and all of the responsibilities that come with being here. If Yoongi wants to stay in Hong Kong, Namjoon does not object, he just does not want Yoongi to be there alone at a time like this. 

Namjoon slides his feet into a pair of sneakers and groans as he bends to tie the laces. Although he is in the best shape of his life, he feels worn down lately. His body aches, and he feels tired all the time. Not to mention, his recent workouts with Jeongguk have been wearing him the fuck out.

Christopher calls Namjoon's recent mood and exhaustion depression and often recommends he try to medicate it, but he is disinterested in the prospect. New medications can dull one's senses and Namjoon having his senses dulled could cost someone their life. 

Once he is outside, walking down his stone steps onto gravel and dirt, he pulls his phone out and calls the chef. He asks if the chef wouldn't mind prepping for eggs benedict, and then he hangs up and gets to work on task number two. 

Being that it is an hour earlier in Hong Kong, Namjoon is not concerned with Uiseok and Yoongi being together this early, so he places a call. The phone rings and rings and Namjoon nearly prepares himself for what he might say in a voicemail when it stops ringing and he hears a groggy, "Hyung?"

"Uiseok," Namjoon responds, walking along the path where trees obstruct its view from the road. "I hope you weren't sleeping."

"Nah, I've been up," Uiseok responds with a droopy lilt that suggests he was definitely asleep a moment ago.

Namjoon swallows thickly, unsure how to proceed before saying, "Look, I don't want to involve you in our shit, but Yoongi hasn't been responding to any of our calls or texts, and we have some business to iron out. I was thinking about making a trip out if that isn't an inconvenience to you."

Uiseok hums, then says, "Nah, man, come on by! Mi casa is your casa."

"Alright, thanks," Namjoon responds, eyes on the gravel that he kicks at with his toe as he walks. He hesitates asking after Yoongi, but finds he can't help it. "Is he…I mean, everything is good, right?"

"Yoongi?" Uiseok asks as if shocked by the question. "Yeah, man he's great! Everything is running according to plan. Copasetic. No sweat, no sweat."

"Hmm," Namjoon mutters, coming out of the clearing of trees and squinting up at the morning sky. 

He does not fully believe what Uiseok says, but not because he thinks the man is being dishonest. He just knows Yoongi's affinity for bottling shit up and wearing a mask of nonchalance—one of the key lessons his father taught him about running a city. "Well I'm glad to hear that. I wonder if it would be better for me to surprise him with my visit."

"A surprise could be fun," Uiseok responds chipperly, taking the bait. Namjoon does not want to come out and say don't tell him I'm coming. "We got nothing happening this week, but if something comes up, one of the guys will be around at all times. You know how it is."

"I do," Namjoon mutters as he approaches the front steps and begins letting himself into the mansion. Now that he is at his second home, and he at least has some confirmation that Yoongi is alright, Namjoon feels eager to get off the phone. "Cool, cool. Well, I'll let you know when I am on my way. 

"Sounds good, man. Sounds real good. Can't wait to shoot the shit again. Travel safe."

Namjoon mutters, "Thanks," under his breath while pulling the phone from his face and ending the call. Something just does not feel right and he can not figure out what it is. Probably, he just needs to see Yoongi and assuage his doubts. 

Once he is inside the mansion, sneakers kicked aside and feet slid into a pair of Yoongi's comfy slippers, he takes in his surroundings and smiles. He meanders over to Yoongi's large blue velvet chair and groans as he slowly sits on it, closing his eyes as the familiar smell of home greets him. If he tries, he can detect hints of Yoongi's musk, but he thinks he may also just be imagining it out of desperation. 

Beside the chair there is a small black marble table with gold furnishings, on top of which sits a beautifully decorated Tiffany lamp adorned with stained glass dragonflies and an intricately designed bronze base. 

Namjoon always marvels at the furnishings which Yoongi opted to keep versus getting rid of. The black and gold all came in after his father died, replacing all the rich mahogany that the old man loved so much, with the exception of the dining rooms. 

But the lamps and all the velvet furnishings were Yoongi's mother's. The chair Namjoon sits on and the couch that accompanies it used to be up in her room at the far left end of the mezzanine, collecting dust until Yoongi insisted on bringing them downstairs.

Whenever the mansion is cold and empty, Namjoon misses Yoongi's mother the most. He misses her soft, knowing smiles, and her warm, kind hugs. Most of all, he misses Yoongi having someone to confide in. Although Yoongi tries to be an open book with those he loves, nobody really got to his heart the way his mother did. 

Namjoon sighs as he reaches for the little marble side table and pulls out a small drawer on its front. Inside is a silver cigarette case with a dragon carved on the front of it—a gift Yoongi gave to Namjoon for his sixteenth birthday. Namjoon pulls it out and clicks a little button on the side, and although the spring mechanism is worn with age, the lid pops open to reveal three perfectly rolled joints and a small green rectangular box of matches. 

The mornings are becoming cooler, but it is still rather nice outside, so Namjoon considers sitting out in one of the gardens to smoke. But then his phone dings, filling the silent room with a loud, single chime, and without reading the notification, Namjoon decides to change his plan. 

He slides one of the joints and the little book of matches out of the case, then snaps the case shut and returns it to the drawer, slowly pressing it tightly closed. Instinct tells him that you and Jeongguk will be on your way back soon, so he makes his way back toward the front door. He would rather greet you out there than have you come to the garden, to him. Although he has no idea what type of mood you will be in, he is eager to put his best foot forward, despite feeling the overwhelming need to be a little stoned in order to face the day. 

The saying, absence makes the heart grow fonder, blips into Namjoon's mind, and he shakes his head and laughs to himself. Having a little time away from you has certainly helped him miss you, and has made him eager to see you. 

Absence from Yoongi, on the other hand…

Namjoon groans once more as he bends to slide on his sneakers, then he reaches for the door knob. He steps outside, turning to slowly close the door behind him, which he wedges open with a random boot. Then he slides out his phone to check it, holding the matchbook in his palm beneath the device while cradling the joint between two fingers. 

Gguk: Heading your way! See you soon, hyung.

With a smile, Namjoon slides the phone back into his pocket, lifts the joint and matches, and begins to slide the tiny green box open to retrieve one of the few remaining matchsticks. He lets out a deep breath as he strikes the stick to the side of the box, igniting a small flame, and then he lights the joint with a deep inhale. 

This box of matches comes from a hotel he and Yoongi stayed in several years back in New York. The trip was meant to be one of sight seeing and trying American food, but they barely left the hotel suite, holing up and fucking all week, living off of room service and the fancy hotel bar. 

The memory brings back a flood of others with Yoongi—of trips to Japan and Amsterdam and Paris and Taiwan, and anywhere in the world Yoongi has wanted to go, which Namjoon has agreed to without hesitation.

A bittersweet rush of anxiety and adoration swells in Namjoon's chest, and he is pulled from his thoughts only when he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, coming from the path that leads to Jeongguk's home. He smiles, listening for faint voices and is surprised when he hears none. 

The thought of you being quiet is one thing, but Jeongguk almost always has something to say. He wonders if Jeongguk has finally gotten over his phase of needing to impress you and is beginning to get a little more comfortable. 

Namjoon smokes his joint a little too fast. His nerves are going haywire and he is becoming increasingly paranoid over the prospect of seeing you again. Jeongguk says you miss him, and he does not doubt that could be true, but he is more than well aware of how distant he has been, lately. 

However, when he looks up and sees the two of you coming onto the driveway—you slung over Jeongguk's back, wearing a set of Jeongguk's hoodie and matching joggers—all he can do is smile like a maniac. Love makes his heart pound rather than trepidation. 

As you slide off Jeongguk's back, Namjoon holds his arms out, inviting you for a hug, and he is pleased when you run into his arms, slamming against his chest hard enough that it nearly makes him cough. He considers offering Jeongguk what is left of the joint but notices the youngest keeping his distance. 

"Sweetheart," Namjoon says, taking a deep inhale of Jeongguk's unmistakable lavender body wash, "did the two of you have fun?"

When you look up and smile, saying, "Yes," it feels like the sun itself is shining from within Namjoon's heart. 

"Thanks, Jeongguk," you say, turning in Namjoon's hold, which he loosens to give you range of motion, and to puff back what is left of his joint. 

Jeongguk seems distant, which is worrying, but he could also be tired. Either way, calling attention to it and putting him on the spot does not seem like a good idea. There is a chance you both are still feeling the effects of the MDMA, and Namjoon does not want to push anyone's emotional buttons. 

"Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface," Jeongguk finally says with an unconvincing wink as he waves the two of you off, spins around, and makes his way back home. 

"You two are so cute," Namjoon mutters, feeling like he has found himself caught in the middle of a rather sweet crush, even if he is worried about the two of you together.

You spin and wrap Namjoon in a tight hug, asking, "Is that so?" and although it seems innocent enough, the playfulness in your voice lights a spark in Namjoon that he has to attempt to ignore. At least until after breakfast. So, instead, he simply hums and then decides to change the topic. 

"I spoke to Yoongi," he lies, and you gasp and step back, eyes wide and eager. Finally, the weed seems to be taking hold and making Namjoon relax a little more, and he continues. "What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?"

You nod so fast—so eagerly—that Namjoon actually worries you might get a headache. Feeling hunger pangs and a bit of lightheadedness take over, Namjoon takes one last puff of his joint and flicks it into the driveway. 

"He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person," Namjoon continues, instantly regretting letting his mouth run. Of course, he knows this to be the way Yoongi operates, but he is still making shit up. He feels desperate to calm your worries in some way, adding, "Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away."

Even as the words leave Namjoon's lips, he fears they could be false. What if the injury to his face was the last straw, and Yoongi no longer feels safe with the two of you. Namjoon can still imagine the horrible feeling as you yanked on his arm and the blade that the two of you held onto caught on Yoongi's face. 

Judging by your eyes, you are just as doubtful, but you smile anyway, and that is enough to get Namjoon out of his spiral. 

"Are you hungry?" he asks, eager once more to change the topic. 

"Starving!" you respond cutely, and the two of you enter the mansion, kicking out of your footwear and closing the door tightly behind you. 

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so I had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce," Namjoon says as they make their way through the main hall. "Does that sound good to you?”

He is not sure what he expected you to say in response, and is shocked when you come back with, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon is quick to turn and begin tickling you, digging his fingertips behind your ribs in a dance that he knows makes you crazy. You squeal as he shouts, "Yah! I am not that bad of a cook!"

"I submit!" you shout, lifting your hands in the air and nearly punching Namjoon in the face. "You're an amazing cook!"

Although Namjoon is unconvinced, he decides the chivalrous thing to do would be to stop. He is also too damn hungry to continue torturing you, and he slots an arm around your waist when you seem to teeter in place. 

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" Namjoon feels compelled to ask, tugging at the fabric near your side, feeling his heart pound behind his ribs when you look up with a wide smile and nod. 

Something in the way the two are now, as if you seem to be back to how you were before, sparks desire deep in Namjoon. The moment the two of you finish breakfast, Namjoon wants to savor you for dessert. 

And he does.

The way your entire body trembles—legs draped over his shoulders and thighs squeezing the sides of his head only urges Namjoon on more. It has been weeks since he has been able to make you cum so much; weeks since you have not been suddenly interrupted by a horrendous flashback the moment you let your guard down; weeks since the last time Namjoon has felt thankful for a waterproof mattress pad.

Namjoon's nose, cheeks, and chin are soaked, and he eats you in broad, greedy strokes, moaning against you unabashedly, eager for you to know that he feels so much pleasure just from getting you off. 

"Daddy," you whine, drawing out the syllables as your thighs clench and release and clench again. He has slowed his fingers inside you but your release continues to squelch and dribble around his hand. 

Namjoon merely hums in response, dragging his tongue over your soaked pussy, tasting your lightly sweet, lightly tangy release—a flavor that makes him insane with lust. He is certain that he could eat you out for hours. 

"Too much," you cry, but Namjoon merely slows down, releasing your clit from his lips with a loud smack as he groans, "That isn't your safeword, baby."

You moan in response, legs falling spread and quaking as Namjoon continues languid swipes of his tongue. The high from the weed he smoked earlier has all but dissipated, replaced with a high from you. And he almost, almost forgets how worried he is about Yoongi. 

But then he is plagued with it once more—the image of beautiful Yoongi with blood pouring down his face—seeping between his fingers. Namjoon’s jaw quivers and he swallows thickly, overwhelmed with the urge to vomit or cry or both. 

“Hmm?” he hears you hum, and he glances up to find you propped up on your elbows, watching him with concern. 

Namjoon can’t help but chuckle. “How are you so observant?” he asks, leaning up on his elbows and wiping his face on the back of his hand. 

Although you look sweaty and fucked out, still seemingly trying to catch your breath, your gaze is razor sharp and focused, lips in a half smile. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” you mutter cutely, smile growing. “It’s easy to be tuned in to you.”

Namjoon sighs and smiles, but he feels a hint of worry. He has been trying so hard to protect you from his thoughts, but he wonders if it would not be better for you to be let in. That is part of loving someone, after all. 

“Ugh, I’m gonna kill the mood,” Namjoon groans, feeling that the mood is already dead. 

You chuckle and shake your head, saying, “Never.” Sitting up further, you open your arms and say, “Come here, Joonbug.”

Namjoon gets onto his hands and begins to crawl, caging your hips and then ribs. And then he gently falls forward, taking you down with him in a tangle of arms and giggles. 

“I keep having flashbacks too,” Namjoon mutters, closing his eyes tight. Yoongi continues to bleed in his mind, but as your hands begin to play with his hair, he melts, pushing the image out. How could he have been so cold when your warmth is so healing?

He swallows again and continues, “I keep seeing Yoongi with his hands and cheek covered in blood. Head wounds…fuck, they bleed so much.” Your hands stop momentarily and then begin to move again. “So much more than you might expect. When Taehyung was stitching him up, it looked like a river had flowed down his chin and neck. I’m sorry for telling you this.”

You say nothing, making Namjoon nervous. “We’re both at fault for what happened,” he adds quietly, chest heavy with remorse. “So please don’t take all the blame. Don’t carry the full burden, okay?”

“Okay,” you utter softly at the same time your chest quakes. 

Namjoon knows before his eyes can lift in confirmation that you are crying. “Sweetheart—“ he begins, but you shake your head, cutting him off. 

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” you half-whisper, tears flowing down your pretty cheeks. “That had to have been so scary.”

A humorless scoff works through Namjoon's chest. "To be honest, I was numb at the time. I go into a protection mode where, until I am sure that someone is okay, I do not react emotionally to the situation. It wasn't until we got home and I brought Yoongi up to shower while we contemplated coming to get you that everything became too much to bear. I completely fucking lost it."

"Why didn't you come get me?" you ask, and Namjoon loves you for it. He loves the way you challenge him, and how you do not leave any detail unaddressed. He turns his cheek to the side and buries it against your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart while your hands sooth his head, neck, and shoulders. 

"Believe it or not, we were only home for about two hours before Taehyung came to bring you home, and as soon as we arrived, men started filing in for an emergency meeting that Yoongi had called; we didn't get to sleep at all. At that hour…when we first arrived to Taehyung's place…it took a little while for any staff to arrive to the property, and Yoongi insisted he tended to Jimin before him. We were in that fluorescent basement all fucking morning. I helped apply pressure to a rag against his face and dissociated quite a bit."

"I would have helped," you mutter, but Namjoon knows it is more for your own benefit than his. Even in the face of terror, you tend to put yourself before others, which is precisely why he prefers to keep you at a safe distance when possible. 

"How can I win your forgiveness?" Namjoon blurts, making an attempt to lift his head and torso enough to look at you. 

But you hold him in place, making your hands and arms heavy against his head and shoulders, sending a clear message that you already have him right where you want him. Your chest shakes and he imagines that you are quietly laughing, but he wishes he could see your face.

"Joonbug," you sigh, smile evident in your tone while your nails scratch against his scalp. "There is nothing to forgive. While I hate to be left out, all I needed was an explanation."

Namjoon feels guilty for his recent silence and all the space he created, thinking it was just as much for your own benefit as for his. He laments not just telling you how he feels. 

"I shut you out after Yoongi left," Namjoon mutters, staring at the dark blue curtains that hang against the wall, tracing over the rise and dip of each crease where they are bunched close. Although he feels at a loss for words, he attempts to at least get some of his thoughts out. "I didn't mean to, I'm just…I don't know. I'm not always good at all of this."

Blunt nails scratch just hard enough that Namjoon has to suppress a groan, fluttering his eyes closed. 

"At all of what?" you ask. 

"Being open, I suppose," Namjoon says, although he knows you are going to refute it. 

"I don't believe that to be true," you respond, proving him right. 

Namjoon chuckles, feeling affection swell behind his ribs. On the nightstand, his phone dings, indicating a message has come in, but he decides that whoever it is can wait just a minute longer. He wants to stay in this moment and consider his next words thoughtfully.

But then his phone dings again, and he thinks that maybe it could be Yoongi. And again it dings, and he worries that it could be Yoongi and that something could be wrong. 

"You gonna get that?" you ask, finally loosening your hold and removing your fingers from where they tangle in Namjoon's hair, and he lets out a sigh of frustration. The audacity of having to move his body when it is perfectly comfortable here in bed with you. 

"Alright, alright," he grumbles, rolling out of your hold and onto his back, which makes you groan and complain when all his weight is momentarily shifted onto one side of your body. You sit up as if anticipating whatever could be on his screen, pulling the comforter close to your chest, which makes him feel a bit more anxious than before. 

Namjoon shifts onto his knees and crawls the rest of the way over to the bedside table, where his phone rests facedown. As he reaches his right arm out, his left arm trembles under his weight—or, perhaps, under the weight of this entire situation. Namjoon turns the phone over and halts his breathing at the sight of three messages from Yoongi waiting for him. 

Yoongi: I think Uiseok accidentally blew your spot. He was high as a kite and muttering something about Namjoonie-hyung sliding by for a visit. 

Yoongi:  I can still act surprised when you arrive, though… ;]

Yoongi: Please hurry? I miss you two like crazy. 

Namjoon's heart goes wild in his chest and he begins to panic, unsure which task he should complete first. "Pack a bag," he mutters to you without lifting his gaze, thumbs shaking over the screen, unable to type a response because his mind races too quickly. 

"Is it Yoongi?" you ask, voice laced with worry, and Namjoon finally tears his eyes to you, which only makes his heart speed even more quickly. 

Your eyes, lined with heavy bags from lack of sleep, are downturned and so beautiful. He traces the shape of your sweat-slick neck and shoulder, then nods quickly, eyes welling with tears. "I think we should leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Oh?" you ask, sitting forward quickly. 

"Nothing is wrong!" Namjoon adds, realizing he must be worrying you with his lack of information, only now able to form a coherent enough thought to text Yoongi back. "He just wants to see us as soon as possible, is all."

In a rush, you scoot close to Namjoon, leave a wet smack of a kiss to his cheek, then slide off the edge of the large bed and take off running for your room in the nude. Namjoon chuckles as he watches you, then he gets to work. 

First, he calls the pilot, who says he can be at the airport in fifteen minutes with a plane ready in around an hour and a half. Then he calls Hoseok to set up a ride for the airport. And finally, he responds to Yoongi. 

Namjoon: We can be there by dinnertime.

Namjoon takes his time stretching his limbs then he pads over to Yoongi's closet, which has a bunch of his own clothes inside. He finds one of Yoongi's black suitcases shoved in the back of the space and lifts it on top of the center island to unzip and begin packing. 

Somewhat listlessly, Namjoon packs blacks—sweatpants and sweaters, tees, slacks, a cardigan. Black socks, black briefs, and black and silver face Rolex. Then he changes into his standard uniform of all blacks, layering a tee tucked into slacks with a fuzzy sweater that he borrows from Yoongi. 

As soon as the shirt is pulled over Namjoon's torso, snug around his muscles despite being a size too big for its rightful owner, he lifts his sweater paws to his face and takes a deep inhale of the detergent that lingers. It misses too much nuance to fully be Yoongi, but it is a piece of him, and that makes Namjoon choke back a sob. 

Soon. He can see Yoongi soon. 

He thinks back to the portrait hanging at the top of his staircase and pictures the look on Yoongi's face, imagining that the wedding that day could have been theirs. In all the years he has known and loved Yoongi, nothing has ever been simple. All he wants is for things to be simple. And he thinks about how nicely you would fit in a picture like that, too. 

The sounds of wheels rolling into the room and feet running in time with them makes Namjoon quirk a smile, and he turns in time to watch you come into view wearing one of your many floral sun dresses. You have what appears to be a soft light blue sweater draped over your arm, and you have managed to pack surprisingly fast.

"Do I need anything fancy?" you ask as you release the suitcase handle and begin to pull the sweater over your head. 

"We can go shopping if you do," Namjoon responds, eager to get to the airport as quickly as possible. 

"Alright," you respond with a bright smile that warms Namjoon's chest and settles his worries. In that moment, two honks of a car horn beam through the open window, signaling Hoseok's arrival. "Let's go get our kitten."

*

alright alright, this is the final chapter i have to offer that was already written. believe it or not, i actually have 22 mostly done. will we get a main update soon??? god, i hope so. thank you for your patience in this trying time! 💜💜💜 Yoongi's pov is also on the way!!!

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one! if you would like to be tagged in this fic, please let me know!!!

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

Collateral is copyright 2022 - 2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations or reposts allowed!

#namjoon mafia #yoongi mafia #bts mafia #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts poly #fic: collateral #Spotify

[ravennaortiz]

Summary: Coco prepares for the birth of his and OC Daniela's child. All while enduring hazing from her brothers and trying to cope with his own anxiety about being a good father.

As always my stories are 18+.

Tag List: @keyweegirlie @hatersaremymotivators @meera10 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kikijackson-blog

"I still can't believe you got my baby sister pregnant" sighed Angel as he dropped onto the couch next to Coco dramatically making him roll his eyes but not looking up from the book in his hands.

"Kind of a shit move. She had her whole life ahead of her" joked EZ as he clapped Coco on his shoulders from behind the couch.

"My bad. Figured after being married for two years this would be fine. Though I am starting to wish I had rethought the relationship after realizing you two idiots were her brothers" snarked Cocoas he shook EZ's hands off him and stood from the couch.

"If I didn't know better I would think he was the one pregnant and hormonal" stated Angel as they watched Coco stalk off and upstairs. EZ simply nodded as he took Coco's vacated seat.

***

Dani was upstairs finishing her makeup when she saw Coco appear in the doorway a frown on his face. "You okay love?"

Coco flopped onto the bed and sighed trying to decide if it was worth stressing her out to tell her his rising anxiety about the birth of their daughter. "I'm good mami" he finally called as he heard her move into the bedroom. "You look stunning" he added as he propped himself up on his elbows taking her in. Lucky, he thought to himself. He got lucky that night all those years ago that she had turned down that alleyway.

Dani put her hands on her hips as she stared him down. "Don't deflect Coco. I know something is bothering you so spill it"

Coco took a deep breath as he met her eyes. There was no use in trying to deny it any longer. "What if I am a bad dad? What do I have to offer? I messed Letty up and I can't stomach the idea of doing that with our little one. I know its too late but I don't think I can do this Dani" explained Coco as he buried his face in his hands as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Coco, my love" murmured Dani as she moved to the bed and tried to pull him as close as possible with her baby bump. "You are a great man and a great father. I promise you that. Letty has grown into a lovely young lady and you did what you thought was best for her. I know in my heart you will do the same for our little girl. I am honored to get to raise her with such a gentle, kind, hardworking man" soothed Dani as she rubbed his shoulders.

Coco nodded as he listened to Dani speak. He knew she would never lie to him. "Thank you. Sorry for this" mumbled Coco as he sat up and kissed her cheek.

"No apologies needed love. I got you like you got me" replied Dani softly as she caressed his face. A knock at the bedroom door had them both turning.

"Guests are arriving. E is getting everyone settled" stated Angel as he looked at the floor awkwardly.

"You go on mi amor. I'll be down in a couple minutes" stated Coco as he stood up offering his hand out to Dani to help her off the bed. Dani nodded and made her way out of the room, giving Angels arm a squeeze as she passed by.

Once Dani was down the stairs Angel turned to his friend. "Hey man, I hope you know its all just jokes. EZ and I couldn't ask for a better guy for Dani to be with."

Coco nodded as he took a deep breath. "I know man. Just got a lot on my mind. Don't want to fuck this up"

"You won't. You love my sister to much to do that. Besides you got me and EZ to help ya" replied Angel with a grin.

"Thank god I got Boy Scout and Pretty Boy to help me. Whatever would I do without?" replied Coco sarcastically as he chuckled as he stood up making his way out of the room with Angel.

The End

Want to see how Dani and Coco started? Click here

#ravennasmasterlist #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #RaisingGirlsSeries #mayans imagines #mayans imagine #OCDanielaReyes #coco cruz #coco cruz fic #coco cruz imagine #johnny coco cruz #coco x oc #mayans fanfiction #mayans fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[cerbreus]

it’s been a hellish last couple months dealing with being caught in the crossfire between incompetent rental car agency that is mad at me and incompetent car insurance company that didn’t tell me the person handling my claim fucking QUIT and MY CLAIM WENT FORGOTTEN FOR MONTHS and it still isn’t resolved in fact things have gotten worse and tbh, when i have major stressful setbacks in life, my body and brains’ response is to just. not. do anything. just shut down. intense fatigue, inability to focus on literally anything because the background level of stress is so high.

#bro im gonna cry #fucking got blacklisted from one of the largest rental car companies in this country and it is apparently #impossible to get off the 'do not rent' list #whats making me more upset is that i literally called them the day the windshield cracked i got things sorted out before i even dropped the #car off and still shit is so far out of my control and now i'm stuck with all these repercussions that shouldn't have happened if my #insurance that i pay a hell of a lot of money for wasn't so incompetent #bro apparently even my ROOMMATES can get blacklisted for sharing an address with me #worse yet payment has been sent out but the company is still going 'fuck you pay me killyourself never talk to us again once u pay this' #i can't get ahold of the DRU person in charge of my claim on their end to find out what happens #so it might end up going to collections anyway which will perma fuck up my credit score which i've been trying. so hard. to raise. #being an adult is a fucking nightmare i want to sleep i can't focus for longer than 5 minutes on anything before i start getting that dread #its so frustrating i can't enjoy my hobbies i can't enjoy my work (which is going well right now) bc i'm so stuck on this i need this to go #away so i can regain my brain's normal functioning and yes i have anxiety this is the worst it's been in a while though #anyway sry for the venting i'll be fine it'll be fine my insurance WILL pay for this and things will be fine (probably) once that goes thru #not that it didn't add to my stress enough that my bp probably took another year off my life lbr #personal stuff #delete later i think #DO NOT rent a car without taking the damage waiver it doesn't matter how much it costs or if you have insurance just take the damage waiver #don't be me

[straawberries]

gonna make another post since that usually helps with reach

teehee poll for reach. please read the rest of this if you can

HI IM DELILAH AND IVE GOT LESS THAN 4 MONTHS BEFORE IM HOMELESS WITH NO OPTIONS FOR PLACES TO LIVE

heeyyy its me delilah. im an autistic plural trans girl with ptsd, and im living in an abusive household with my adoptive "father" that absolutely hates me. in less than 4 months, i am going to be kicked out, and i am trying to raise the money i need to survive this event.

ive been trying, pretty much every chance i get, to get a job, but i think because of this shitty small town in texas, everyone already knows who i am and nobody wants to hire me. this means i have to rely on stuff like this.

by JUNE 1ST 2024, i need to make enough money to move out, or else... well, i dont really know what will happen to me (other than vague "homelessness"), but im really scared that it wont end well.

on top of that im rarely being fed enough which is seriously fucking with my mood and making me feel like shit, so im having to balance saving and eating which.. with the money im currently getting, is not very sustainable. other than a few people giving a lot (who i am eternally thankful for and if youre able to do this i would basically do anything for you) im basically getting zero donations.

i get that this kind of stuff is annoying and maybe a bit slow, but just taking a few seconds, maybe a minute or two at most, to give me a small amount of money, would be a hell of a lot more helpful than doing nothing.

C*SH*PP - @delilahswagga

P*YP*L - @delilahkill

plenty of people use stuff like this to scam, so heres some info about me if you doubt that this is true. (copy pasted from previous post)

i have a really big love for performing, i fell in love with theatre years ago and performed the addams family musical as fester about a month ago as my biggest role on stage yet, and right now im in the process of getting ready for antigone as teiresius. i love music, and its one of my life goals to learn as many instruments as possible, and currently i own quite a few, though my favorites are my two ukuleles and my super cool electric guitar. i have 8 partners at the moment, and i have a very big desire to one day live with as many of them as i can. i pride myself on being the best partner i can be, and its been my goal to make all my partner's lives better (and i think ive been doing a good job at it :3)

i love cats an extreme amount, ive never had a cat myself (because my dad is insane and hates cats and tries to hit cats with his truck) but being around cats makes me super happy and always makes my anxieties go away, even when im having an anxiety attack or a panic attack. i really hope i can get a few cats one day, and i want to give them all silly food names :) my fursona is kind of a reflection of that, her name is bagel. some cat names ive thought of are mochi, chili, Supreme Pizza, or maybe french fry :)

im not sure if ill be able to achieve any of my goals if i dont get the financial support i need. ive been.. really close to giving up recently, but i dont want to have to do that, so im going to fight like this for as long as i can.

#undertale #pixel art #performing art #trans #autistic #actually autistic #urgent #help needed #please boost #mutual aid

[sluttywoozi]

Golden Hour | husband!joshua x reader

After a long day of surf and sun, Joshua somehow still has the energy to fuck you into the hotel mattress. Being in love (and obsessed) with his wife always pays off.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.4k | Pairing: hjs x reader | Genre: smut

Part of the Husband Joshua series! Can be read as a standalone

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Warnings: idk how to surf so if this is wrong blame wikihow, possessive!josh, drink mention but it doesn’t have to be alcoholic, oral r. rec., spitting, some spanking, fingering, piv sex, breeding kink but they don't want kids, creampie(s), cockwarming

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, on some form of birth control, referred to as a wife, wears a bikini (every body is a bikini body), wears a dress

Joshua raises a hand to his face, holding it above his eyes to block the glaring sun as he scans the crowded shore for you. He’s been out in the water for a while, trying to improve his surfing skills and also perhaps trying to impress you, just a little. Neither you nor him have been to the beach since your honeymoon, and he doesn’t want you to think those lessons he splurged on while you were having a spa day were for nothing. 

He’s caught a few waves so far but hasn’t made it close enough to the shore to see your face, so he has no idea if you’ve been watching him or if you’ve just been reading and listening to music. He won’t be hurt if you haven’t had your eyes on him, but he does want you to see him ride at least one wave. 

He hears some murmurs from the few other surfers in front of him and turns around, instantly seeing what has them talking. There’s a big one coming in, building and building and building, and if he starts paddling now, he just might make it. 

So he leans forward onto his stomach, his arms powering through the water even as his muscles begin to ache from so much use. The ocean beneath him starts getting sucked in, contributing to the rolling wave, and he prepares himself to pop up and find his balance. 

His heart races as he takes off, getting his feet beneath him and standing on steady legs, his arms loose and his eyes trained on the shore. He rides the wave as far as he can, bailing when it starts to peter out and immediately swimming up to catch his breath. Climbing back onto his board, he looks around for your rented rainbow sun umbrella, grinning when he realizes he’s much closer to it than he thought he’d be. 

You’re not under it though, his smile dropping as he starts to survey the beach, searching for you. He can’t seem to find you, and for some reason that has his heart racing again, this time in anxiety rather than exhilaration. 

“Joshie! That was amazing!” You exclaim from somewhere to the left of him, your voice just a bit faint but still easily recognizable. He whips his head over, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he sets eyes on you, wading waist deep in the clear blue water and making your way toward him. 

He beams and hops off the board, closing the remaining distance and catching you with one arm as you launch yourself at him. The other keeps hold of his board, though he wishes he had both hands free to hug you back. 

He also wishes he could feel your skin against his, but his swim shirt is still in the way and he won’t be able to take it off until you let go of him, which he’s not going to ask you to do any time soon. 

It’s silly but he’s missed you while he was out surfing, even though it’s only been a couple of hours. You’ve been on vacation for three days already and he’s grown used to sharing every minute with you, being in your presence for each breath in and each breath out, bar bathroom breaks and the one nap you took without him when he wanted to explore and you wanted to stay in. 

He wishes it could be like this all the time, but he’ll settle for the rest of the week if only because he knows he’ll have you for the rest of his life. 

Too soon, you pull away, sliding your hands from his shoulders to rest on his chest, your touch appreciative and the slightest bit possessive. His hand on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh exposed by your bikini. You let him pick out your swimsuit today, and while some men might want to cover their wife up, he’s the opposite. 

He thinks it’s hot that people are looking at you, wanting you, not knowing he’s the only one you’ll ever go home with. They realize when he presses his lips to yours in a claiming kiss, when he lets his hands wander a little, when they notice the matching rings on your left fourth fingers. 

He doesn’t even know if anyone is looking at you now, too busy staring into your eyes to notice anything else, but he feels the urge all the same. You can already tell what he wants, leaning in to meet him in the middle as he kisses you deeply, slowly, sucking at your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth when it opens on a gasp. 

His hand slips down to your ass, squeezing it over your swimsuit hard, pulling your cheek up and over, surely tugging at your pussy too. You squirm against his chest, pressing closer to him as your fingernails dig into his pecs. 

He remembers you’re at a public beach when a wave crashes into you, and thank goodness it did because he was millimeters away from slipping his hand into your bikini bottoms so he could find out if you’re wet from the water or wet for him. 

He pulls away and laughs, shifting his hand to your lower back and pecking you one last time before breathing, “Should we head back to the room?” 

“Yeah, I think we should. Wanna lay out enough to dry off first?” You offer hopefully, and while he kind of just wants to throw you over his shoulder and haul you to the hotel now, he knows you hate tracking water through the clean lobby. 

“Sure, baby, we can do that,” he smiles fondly, giving you one last squeeze and releasing you. His board goes under one arm and you go under the other, your hand coming up to hold his as you walk back to the shore together. 

He splits off from you to return the board to the surf shack, promising he’ll bring back one of those coconut drinks for you to share though he knows you’ll likely have most of it. 

The line isn’t too long for the return of the board or the purchase of the coconut drink, thankfully, and he walks back to you with care, not wanting to spill even a drop. 

You’re on your stomach to the side of the umbrella when he arrives, not under its shade but close enough that it’s obviously yours, a thick terry cloth blanket spread out under you with just enough room for his body too. He sighs contentedly as he sits next to you, handing over the drink and smiling as your eyes widen with glee, your lips pursing around the straw to take an excited sip. 

He reaches for the hem of his surf shirt and yanks it off, wringing it out away from the blanket and laying it flat on the edge of the lounge you no longer occupy. You roll over to lay on your back and he feels your eyes on him like a physical touch, your gaze hot and familiar on his chest and stomach. 

He loves how you look at him, loves that you’d rather stare at him than at the beautiful beach around you, loves even more that you’re obsessed with his body just like he’s obsessed with yours. 

He also loves that this way, he can look at you too. You shift up onto your elbows, your breasts jiggling with the movement, and he feels a bolt of desire shoot straight down his spine as he lets his eyes lovingly travel over every available inch of you. Over your soft tummy and your squeezable hips and your perfect, perfect thighs. Thighs he wants to suffocate between. Thighs he wants to sink his teeth into. Thighs he wants to hold down to the bed as he-

“I think I’m dry enough. Are you?” 

He clears his throat and attempts to clear his head, but images of you still swim through his thoughts, even as he nods and tugs at his board shorts to subtly adjust himself. They don’t feel as wet between his fingers, just damp, and when he reaches for his shirt, it’s close enough to dry that he only cringes a little as he pulls it back on. 

You pack up together quickly, and Joshua is almost relieved when you reach for your dress and tug it over your head, needing a reprieve from your near naked body. He’s less relieved when he remembers that it’s a fucking sundress. 

Of course it is, that’s all you’ve been wearing on this trip, and he doesn’t know how he forgot. This is worse, because it’s his favorite article of clothing on you, and because he knows all you’ve got on under it is an easily untied, flimsy little bikini. 

It takes everything in him not to pull you into one of the changing cabanas, bend you over, and make you scream for him; he manages somehow, the knowledge that he can do the latter two when you get into the room tiding him over, but only just. 

He’s silent while you return the umbrella, his hand tight around yours as you walk through the lobby, and he’s glad you know him well enough to understand that he’s not upset or annoyed, just nearly out of his mind with desire for you. 

The wait for the elevator feels like eons, especially when he looks at you in the reflection of the metal doors, your form slightly fuzzy but clear enough for him to see the rise of your tits under your dress and the way the hem flutters gently over your thighs. Those thighs…

The doors part with a ding and you pull him inside, pressing the button for your floor before the elevator fills with other guests, leaving you and Joshua at the back. You’ll have to maneuver in between them to get out but it means he can slide his hand up your dress and squeeze your ass again, his fingers slipping under your bikini to touch your bare skin. 

They creep closer to the heat between your legs with every stop, and he’s just about to reach your pussy when the elevator lands on your floor. He reluctantly takes his hand back and rights your dress, murmuring, “Excuse us,” as he weaves around the few people left. When the doors close behind you, he twines his fingers with yours and breaks into a jog, tugging you to the room and grinning as a few bitten back giggles escape you. 

He bounces on his toes as you dig the card out of your bag, your trembling fingers inserting it into the lock and his hand turning the handle as soon as the light glows green. He pushes the door open for you, following closely with his other hand tight on your hip, his dick already hard and throbbing in anticipation. 

You’ve barely set your bag down before he’s steering you to the bed, crowding you up against the edge, and pressing your shoulder to bend you over. He flips up the hem of your dress and tears down your bikini, knocking your legs apart with his own and pushing his left knee up until yours rests on the bed. He’s sure you expect him to drop his shorts and sink right into you, which is probably why you gasp when he falls to his knees and slaps your ass with both hands before spreading your cheeks apart and shoving his tongue inside of you. 

You taste fucking divine, the beloved flavor of your pussy tinged with salty seawater, and he groans deeply into you, fucking his tongue in and out of your entrance and swallowing as his mouth fills with saliva and your arousal. 

He fucks you with his tongue until you’re whining and shaking above him, tilting your hips to improve the angle and rocking into his movements. The leg keeping you up starts to quiver, and he pulls away just long enough to gasp out, “On the bed, baby, get on the bed.”

You listen, clumsily climbing up and stretching out for him, face down, ass up, just like he likes you. He smacks your ass again just because he can before spreading your pussy open with his thumbs and spitting on your clenching entrance. Some of it seeps inside of you and some of it trails down to your clit, leaving the bud glistening and just begging for his attention. 

He leans down and wraps his lips around it, sucking in hard, quick pulses until you cry out, “Joshie, please!”

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want,” he mumbles into you, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Your fingers, I want your fingers,” you whimper into the pillow, arching your back and pressing further into him in wanton need. 

He licks his lips to get one last taste of you and slides two digits deep inside, giving you no time to adjust to the intrusion before pulling them out to the tip and sinking them back in. His pace rockets up, his tired muscles hard at work as he fucks you with his fingers, the wet sound of your pussy accepting them filling the air. 

He wants to hear your voice too, slowing down and leaning over you to slide his fingers beneath your cheek and turn your head to the side so you’re no longer muffled by the pillow. Your gaze catches his and he smiles tenderly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple before returning to his previous position and hooking his fingertips into your g-spot, grinding harshly into it. 

Predictably, you yelp, your eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on massaging that sensitive patch, his breath catching as he feels you get wetter around his fingers. You’re moaning now, your brows scrunched with pleasure and your mouth stuck open, and he reaches his free hand up to tap at your bottom lip with two fingers, sliding them into your mouth when you open wider for him. 

You suction around them immediately, your tongue laving over his knuckles and bathing his fingers in saliva, and he feels his cock throb in his shorts in response, the memory of your perfect lips around it visceral and precious. He yanks his fingers back before he can get too distracted, reaching around you to sandwich your clit between them. 

He starts fucking you with his other hand again, your hips jerking with it, stimulating your clit as he curls his fingertips towards your stomach, tapping your sweet spot with every thrust. It’s not long before you’re gasping out his name and clenching down, your thighs juddering as you fight to hold yourself up through the pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers into you, scissoring them to stretch you out for another. A third squeezes in beside the first two, making you whine and claw at the duvet, your cunt contracting and trying to suck his fingers in deeper when he pulls them out. 

“Fuck,” he groans, releasing your clit to press down on your back and deepen the arch, making it even easier for him to hit your g-spot. He wants to be inside of you, desperately, but he wants to make you cum again first, wants you to be so wet, he can just glide right in. 

You’re getting close, he can tell by the way you’re pushing back into his thrusts and sobbing, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to say it, but it just feels so fucking right that he can’t stop the words from coming out.

“Cum for me and I’ll breed you full.” 

You suck in a sharp gasp and bear down, your pussy rippling and leaking and fever hot as you break apart beneath him, your arousal soaking his hand and dripping down his wrist. It seems like it lasts forever, though he’s sure it helps that he’s still fucking his fingers into your g-spot as much as your tightness will allow. 

He knows you’re done when you whimper brokenly and pull away from his touch, your hand reaching back to hold his wrist in place so he doesn’t follow you. He decides to let you catch your breath, sliding off the bed to shed his shorts and wipe his hand off on a towel, bringing it with him so he can spread it out under you like he should have done before. 

You’re on your side when he returns, and he climbs back onto the mattress before carefully tugging at your shoulder and hip, pulling you to rest on your back and waiting for you to look at him. 

When your eyes blink open, they’re teary and dazed, and you watch as he gathers a couple pillows, weakly lifting your hips just enough for him to slide them under you and lay the towel out on top of them. He’s gentle as he sets his hands on the backs of your knees and pushes your legs up, the angle making it easier for you to keep them tucked to your chest when your hands replace his. 

He can tell your head is full of clouds by the way you gaze at him, and he attempts to bring you some clarity by asking, “Remember what I said before?” 

You think for a second, your lips pouting as you try to recall, and he can’t resist leaning down over you and pressing his mouth to yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he soothes the sting with his tongue. 

When he pulls away, it seems to come to you, and your eyes clear up just a bit as you respond, “You said you’d breed me full if I came for you.” 

“Good, baby, that’s right. So what do you think I’m going to do now?” He asks, sitting back up on his knees and shuffling closer to lay his aching cock on your wet pussy, just barely grinding against you. 

“You’re gonna-,” you take in a halting breath. “You’re gonna breed me?” 

“Yeah, honey,” he nods with a hungry smirk, shifting his hips back enough to line himself up before pressing forward a few inches and popping the head of his cock inside of you. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my cum, until it’s dripping out of you. And then I’m gonna fuck it back in, and fill you up even more. Until it takes.” 

You whimper from deep in your throat, pressing your lips together and readjusting your grip on your legs, your eyes darting down to stare yearningly at his cock. 

“Do you want that?” He whispers, working himself in as slowly as he can manage, teasing both you and himself. 

You just nod, but he wants to hear you say it, needs to hear it from your own lips. 

“Tell me then.”

“I- I want you to fill me up with your cum, fuck a baby into me, please.” 

He sinks the rest of his cock inside of you, covering your hands with his and spreading your legs wider, pushing them into your chest and resting his weight on them as he draws back and snaps forward. 

He’s not gentle now, and he’s definitely not slow, his hips smacking into your ass as he thrusts forcefully into you, his grunts of exertion soon joining the cries escaping you. You’re staring up at him with stars in your eyes, your fingers tight on your thighs beneath his and your pussy fucking flawless around him, and he’s never been so in love. 

That’s a thought he has constantly but he means it every single time, his devotion to you endless and all consuming. 

His appetite for you is voracious enough to rival it; the need, the sheer greed that he feels when it comes to you stripping him down to his basest desires. He’s only human in the end, and nothing could be more human than the urge to love you, to fuck you, to breed you, to keep you. He knows you’re his already but beyond that ring on your finger, there’s one other thing that could show the world you belong to each other, and that includes pumping you so full of his cum, it sticks. 

He’s getting close already just thinking about it, and the way you’re clenching and fluttering around him doesn’t help in the slightest. He wouldn’t mind breaking this early though, not when it means he can just get hard again and fuck his cum even deeper into you. 

“Joshie,” you whine in the voice that means you’re inches away from the edge, and he feels his body respond, his heavy balls drawing up tight and his cock hardening further within you. 

“Cum whenever you want, baby. I’m not stopping anytime soon,” he vows darkly, fully intent on keeping you in this bed and on his dick for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of his life. 

You shudder at his words, gasping when he shifts his hips and changes the angle, the head of his cock now bullying right into your g-spot. He can’t hit as deep like this but he knows it’ll be enough to unravel you, and that’s exactly what he wants. 

He grins wickedly when you start to ripple around him, knowing the waves of your orgasm are beginning to overtake you, and when it’s at its peak, he sinks in deep and lets you carry him with you. He groans roughly at the feeling of your undulating walls milking his cock, relief and bone deep satisfaction filling him as he fills you. 

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, fucking you through the sensitivity and burying his cum deeper inside of you. You buck against him in overstimulation, crying out his name with tears in your voice, and he feels his cock twitch and get harder, your pussy like a molten velvet vise around him. 

An hour and two more loads pass by in a blur, every minute melting into the next as he ruts into you, barely pulling back enough to get any friction but grinding into your sweet spot to keep you pliant. He thinks he might’ve fucked you dumb, no words escaping your parted lips and no thoughts behind your glassy eyes. You’re still holding your legs up though, and that’s how he knows you’re present enough to hear him. 

“Said I would fuck you full, didn’t I, baby?” He laughs breathily, his eyes trained on the sight of his cock thrusting into you, the combination of your arousal and his cum seeping out around him in bursts. “I think you’re pretty fucking full.”

You mumble something but he doesn’t catch it, and he shifts your legs onto his arms and leans down, bracing his hands on the bed to hold himself up. “What was that, honey?”

“Not enough,” you gasp out, releasing your thighs to wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s not enough, Joshie, I want more.”

Your words blend together but he hears them all the same, and a jolt of desire surges through him, traveling down his spine and ending in his cock. He gets his legs under him, trapping you in a mating press so he can put more power behind his hips as his strokes get deeper, longer, your fingernails digging into his neck with every thrust of his aching dick. 

“I can give you one more, baby, I’ll give you whatever- whatever you want,” he groans raggedly, his vision blurring and his hips stuttering as he nears the edge for what he fears may be the last time. You clench and squeeze and flutter around him, whimpering, “Please, Joshie, breed me,” and that’s it for him. 

This time when he cums, it’s enough to steal his voice, his breath, his thoughts. It’s blinding, the pleasure, but that just means he feels everything. He feels you falling to pieces on his cock, he feels the warmth of the sunset on his back, he feels his heart racing in his chest. He feels his cum filling you again, replacing what he’s fucked out, and more than anything, he feels satiated, like there’s nothing left to give and nothing left to take. 

He all but collapses into you, shifting to rest his knees on the bed and dropping your legs from his arms, his face buried in your neck as he trembles and gasps for air. Your cunt is still hugging him tightly, and he winces at the sensitivity of his spent cock but doesn’t pull out, can’t pull out, not when he knows that all of his hard work will go to waste as soon as he does. 

You run gentle fingers through his salty hair, your chest slowly rising and falling against his, and his body starts to grow heavy, exhaustion weighing him down and the comfort of your pussy keeping him warm. 

He’s asleep before the golden light of the sun fades from the sky. 

“Joshua, with everything we said, I have to ask… Have you changed your mind about kids?” You ask softly, your back to his chest and your body between his legs as you laze in the massive hotel bath together. 

He presses his lips to your neck and thinks, only for a second, before responding, “No, I’m happy with our life. I don’t need anything but you.”

You let out a sigh of relief and turn in his arms, resting your cheek on his shoulder and tucking your legs up, your knees just barely out of the water. He scoops some up and pours it over you, not wanting you to get cold. 

“Good, I feel the same way.”

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair, kissing your crown and rubbing his hand up and down your back. 

“I love you,” you whisper in return. “The breeding kink was hot though, let’s keep that?” 

“Oh yeah, baby, for sure.”

AN: for @thatgirlfromwindsor and these anons 💖

Seventeen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#svthub #k vanity #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua x y/n #joshua fanfic #joshua smut #hong joshua x reader #husband!joshua #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo x reader #seventeen series #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt smut #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #svt x you #svt x y/n #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #✨emily writes✨

[myfictionaldreams]

Accidents Happen // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

Requested by: @theatrelove3000​ (thank you so much for the message! I hope your eye is doing better and I hope you enjoy this fic)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hints of winter solider, minor injuries/reader is injured, protectiveness, possessive behaviour, anxiety, pool sex, butt plugs, anal/vaginal sex, double penetration, handjob, multiple orgasms, sir kink, praise kink, size kink, bucky needs a hug, mentions of murder, not beta read

Words: 6.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link 

Making friends whilst being in close connection with the mafia was both easy and difficult. Easy because you meet hundreds of new people every month and difficult because many of them were dangerous and untrustworthy. On the rare occasion, a friendship would be created and even though you were busy nearly every day for the gang, you still attempted to spend time with them.

Especially on special days such as your best friend’s baby's birthday. You’d met Laura Barton through her husband Clint, whom you’d met through Natasha. The two of you instantly bonded over having partners in dangerous jobs and if you ever needed a break, she’d always welcome you to her home with a hot drink ready and the kids running rampant which was a great distraction.

Today, it was her youngest, Nate’s 2nd birthday so you’d spent the afternoon celebrating with cakes and toys with the family. By early evening, you were the only one remaining, finally having time to cuddle with the toddler who was playing with the plastic toy train that you’d bought him as a present.

“What time are you and the boys leaving for the hotel?” Laura asked in between bites of vanilla cake. 

Your head flew back to avoid the wild swing of Nate’s tiny arm as he continued to play with the toy, making little noises with his mouth that made you smile. “Um, I think around 7, it’ll only take us half an hour to drive there but I can’t wait! Even though we are going for work, the hotel is stunning, and of course, Steve had to buy the best room, I think we’ve even got our own private pool”.

Laura’s eyebrows raised, letting out a low whistle, “They really do live a life of luxury. If they ever want to treat Clint and me to a weekend away any time soon I’d be forever in their debt”.

You laughed at your friend, “I’ll see what I can do”. Turning to look at Nate and poking the tip of his nose, “Do you think mommy deserves a trip away?” As you asked, you made the grave mistake of not watching his arm and there's one thing about toddlers, it was that they were surprisingly strong as he swung the train toy and accidentally smacked you in the face with it. “Oof, ok I’m taking that as a no”.

“Shit! Are you ok? Nate be careful”, Laura chastised to her son as she took him into her arms.

“It’s ok, he didn’t mean it, I’m fine”.

“You aren’t fine, you’re bleeding!” Laura was looking at you with wide eyes.

You were still slightly in shock, trying to remain calm to not scare Nate but you couldn’t deny it, your face was throbbing. Excusing yourself, you rushed to the bathroom and glanced into the mirror. “Shit, the boys are going to go crazy”. The toddler had managed to hit you right underneath your eye, the sharp corner had cut the skin and the surrounding area was already swelling and felt tender. Sighing to yourself, you cleaned the bleeding cut, thankfully it wasn’t deep enough for stitches and the bleeding had stopped already but with the location, you knew you’d probably end up with a black eye over the next day or so.

After you finished cleaning up, you spent a couple of minutes contemplating what the fuck you were going to say to Steve and Bucky. There wasn’t any way you’d be able to hide it with makeup and there wasn’t anything they hated more than seeing you hurt and you knew an overreaction was coming your way. Should you call them or tell them in person? At least in person, you could stop them from running off on a vengeance before you could even explain what had happened so decided you’d wait to tell them.

Leaving the bathroom, you found Laura waiting anxiously with the kids all playing in another room. She took one look at your face before mumbling, “Shit. Does this make me number one on the Rogers mafia hit list?” she joked but you knew she was also slightly serious.

Walking closer to your friend, you took her hands and grinned, even though the action hurt your cheek. “Not it doesn’t, it’s absolutely fine, the boys love Nate they’ll forgive him for anything. I should probably go through, face the music now rather than waiting around”.

You called Sam to pick you up and he text you once outside. Giving Laura and the kids a big hug, you reassured her once more that everything would be ok before leaving her house and walking down the path to the parked SUV with Sam in the driving seat. As you saw him, you waved happily, trying to appear as at ease as possible to keep the tension calm.

However, the moment you were close enough for him to notice the injury to your face, his smile dropped, eyebrows frowning as he hastily got out of the car, rushing to you. “Sam it’s fine-”.

“Who did this to you?” he asked urgently, hands cupping your jaw and tilting your face so he could examine your cut closely. Sam’s face was contorted into anger, something rarely displayed by your bodyguard and friend as he usually likes to be sarcastic and funny when around you.

Lifting your hands, you held onto his wrists, trying to pull him away but he held strong having not finished checking your injury. “Nate accidentally hit me with his toy train… A TODDLER hit me Sam so please relax”.

Thankfully he did. The tension in his shoulders eased as well as the frown on his face. Eyes still flicking across the cut, he instructed, “Tell me when it starts to hurt”. Carefully, he pressed his fingers across your face, inching towards the wound and you informed it where it began to be tender, so he knew just had big the injury was and how bruised it was beneath the swelling. It took a couple of minutes before he seemed somewhat at ease about the injury, finally looking away from the injury to look at the rest of your face before the corner of his lip turned up, “so a baby hurt you this much, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, gently pushing against his shoulder, “Yes! He’s stronger than he looks and yes, I am very embarrassed so please never bring it up again”.

Sam laughed as well, placing his arm over your shoulder and turning the two of you back towards the car. “Oh, you know I’m going to bring it up at any opportunity right?”

Rolling your eyes, you climbed into the car, pulling your seatbelt across your front as he did the same in the driver’s seat. “I could just have Steve or Bucky demand you to never bring it up again”, you suggested unseriously.

Sam’s smile faltered as he began to drive the two of you to the office, “I’m assuming you’ve not told either of them yet? Feel like we need to call everyone in to try and keep them both calm, they’re going to go apeshit when they see you”.

Sighing heavily, you had to refrain from wiping your face. “I thought about calling them but I know they wouldn't listen to me after I’ve told them about it so decided it was better to tell them in person. I just hope that it doesn’t ruin our trip away, I mean, maybe they’ll be calm because it was a baby, there will be no need to go on a vengeance tour of Brooklyn”.

Sam looked towards you with an awkward smile and that’s all you needed to see to know that was most likely not going to happen today.

Arriving at the warehouse, you tried to ignore the glances from other gang members when they noticed the cut to your face, a tension quickly building in the atmosphere which only meant your anxiety increased. You tried to smile at everyone to ease the nerves but it didn’t seem to work. It was only as you and Sam walked into the elevator and it was just the two of you did you release a deep, aggravated groan.

“I’m screwed aren’t I”, you say, glancing at Sam as he rolled up his sleeves like he was preparing for a fight.

“You aren’t screwed, I think you’re the only one who is actually safe”, he reminded you as the doors opened to the corridor to Steve’s office. The two of you walked at a slow pace, your head hanging low so that you didn’t see Steve and Bucky’s bodyguard waiting outside of the closed office door.

“Who died?” Natasha joked, seeing the solemn reaction from you both. Your head snapped up to her, about to reassure her that everything was fine but the words floated away as her grin instantly dropped at seeing your cheek. “What happened?” she asked in an authoritative tone, closing the gap with a single step, hands gripping your face much like Sam had.

Trying to keep your voice as steady and as calm as possible, you explained, “Little Nate decided the toy train had better use on my face than in the normal way”.

It took Natasha longer than usual to believe you, only accepting it as she glanced towards Sam who nodded his head and let go of your face. “Well… we’re all in for a long night then”, she joked but this time there was a hint of warning in her tone.

“Don’t say that, you should have seen what it was like downstairs”. You took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s going to be absolutely fine. I’m going to walk in there, explain to them that a toddler hit me in the face, let them have a little freakout and then we are all going to remain calm and continue with our trip away and it’s all going to be fine”. Niehter Sam or Natasha seemed convinced so you sighed once more, chewing on your bottom lip with nerves. Shaking your head, you rolled your shoulders to try and look as unbothered as possible, “I need to get this over and done with. If either of them leaves, could you follow them please and make sure they don’t do anything stupid”.

“We can try our best, boss lady”, Sam responded for the two of them, walking towards the office door and holding it open for you.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into Steve’s office, seeing both of them sitting at the large oak desk that was positioned in the centre of the room, laptops in front of them, face set with concentration. As your mouth opened to announce your arrival and quickly explain what had happened before they could freak, Steve’s eyes had already glanced away from his screen.

“What the fuck!” he growled, standing with such force his seat toppled over as he stormed towards you. “Who did this to you? What happened?” Steve was in front of you within half a second, his hands cupping your face, eyes full of a whirlwind of seething anger, worry and concern.

“Please don’t freak out, it’s absolutely fine, it was just an accident”, you managed to say as your face was turned in different directions by Steve as if the size of the cut would change but it remained the same. As Steve finished his inspection, Bucky was right there over his shoulder, eyes full of fury as he too checked the cut but then continued further past just your face. 

“Accident or not, I’m fucking killing someone”, Bucky barked, lifting your arms and searching for any more injuries and it was only as he lifted the front of your shirt did you push his hands away and take a step back.

“Both of you just wait, please. Absolutely no killing is happening because it was done by a two-year-old” you emphasised, not sure if they were even listening as they crowded around you. Placing a hand on either of their chests, you tried not to concentrate on the pounding of both of their hearts beneath your palms as you explained. “I was sitting with Nate, he was playing with his toy train that he loves by the way. I happened to get too close and didn’t see him swinging the toy and it caught me across the face and let me tell you, that boy is strong!”

You grinned to show the humour, looking between Steve and Bucky, waiting for any sort of reaction from them. Both sets of ocean-blue eyes were flicking from your mouth to your injury and just as you were able to explain again to them, it was Steve who moved first by cupping your jaw with his hand, this time it felt more comforting rather than him assessing you.

“Right let me just make sure I’m understanding this, Nate hit you in the face with the toy that you bought him and caused this much damage?”, he tilted your chin as he finished his sentence to show off your injury more.

“Yes that is exactly what happened. You can check with Sam if you want. Nate is a lot stronger than you’d expect someone so small to be”.

Steve nodded whilst taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down but his heart was still pounding under your hand. Leaning down, he kissed your forehead, showing his understanding of the situation. “How does it feel? Does it hurt?” he questioned, his blonde eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

“It feels tender and bruised but only when I touch it and I can see the swelling out of the corner of my eye but otherwise it’s fine. I’ve had worse that’s for sure”, you tried to once again defuse the tension with a little joke but all it caused was Bucky’s jaw to tighten.

Steve noticed too and suggested, “Why don’t you go and wait by the car baby, we just need to wrap up everything here and we can start heading to the hotel

It was a simple idea but put you on edge with worry as Bucky had yet to say anything or snap out of the protective trance. Instead of arguing with Steve, you nodded, knowing that Steve could handle Bucky when he was like this and it was best to leave the two of them to it.

Stepping out of the office, you released a long heavy breath, now facing Natasha and Sam who were waiting in a stance like they were ready to tackle someone but relaxed seeing that it was you. Glancing over your shoulder, they were surprised when no one else followed after you. “Everything ok, Sugar?” Natasha questioned uncertainly.

“I’m not entirely sure. I think Steve’s ok but Bucky… he didn’t say a word to me. I think they’re having a talk so I’ve been sent to the car like a naughty child”. Sam chuckled, finally stepping forward and holding his elbow out for you to take.

“Well let then me escort you to the car m’lady”, he mocked and managed to pull a smile to your lips as you accepted.

It took nearly 45 minutes for them to finish whatever talk that needed to happen, and you’d hoped that Bucky would rush to the car but it was quite the opposite. He inclined for Sam to get out of the car and they spoke out of sight.

Sam wouldn’t be coming with you to the hotel, it was just supposed to be you and the boys so you waved to him in farewell as he climbed out of the car. Steve then slide in next to you, closing the gap in the middle so his body brushed against yours as you blinked up at him with a worried expression. Once again, his hand slide along your jaw as he kissed your temple. “You know I hate seeing you hurt”, he admitted against your skin before pulling back and looking at you with an apologetic gaze.

“I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you have to shut me out”, you countered, lifting your hand to stroke along his stubbled cheek.

“It doesn’t”, he contemplates. “But, I also don’t want you to see me in this state, the things going through my mind when I saw your face, I was just about ready to kill everyone in this building to find out what happened. No one hurts what’s mine”.

Your heart was thumping hard in your chest at his passionate declaration. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to push me away. I know you don’t want to see me hurt but accidents happen and if there was something wrong, you know I would call you immediately”.

Steve’s eyes softened, “Yes I know that now but, it doesn’t stop the panic that I feel when I see you’re hurt”.

Shifting even closer so that you could kiss his cheek, you continued, “I’m sorry for scaring you, it’s hard to tell you when these things happen, I don’t know whether I should call to prewarn or wait to see you in person”.

Steve’s lips lowered to yours, giving you a quick kiss to your lips, “We’ll figure it out”.

“What about Bucky?” you asked nervously.

“Buck might need a little more time, he’s still struggling to process his emotions”.

This did little to ease your anxiety, especially as the said man got into the driver's seat and didn’t say a single word to you, only glancing at you from the rearview mirror for a moment before beginning the drive to the hotel.

Steve easily managed to fill the silence with natural conversations which did little to distract you from the nerves of Bucky not talking. Even when the three of you arrived at the hotel and were shown to the penthouse where you’d be staying, Bucky didn’t say a word. After a quick tour of the breathtakingly beautiful surroundings which included a kitchen, living room area and pool that overlooked the city, you decided to go and freshen up.

After returning in a flowing dress that felt more comfortable than the jeans and shirt, you looked for the boys but only found Steve who was leaning against the kitchen island, staring at a spot in deep thought. “Steve?” this snapped him out of his trance as he instantly looked at you, standing to his full height. “Where’s Bucky?” you continued to look around but didn’t see him and by the look on Steve’s face, you knew you wouldn’t find him. “Where is he?”

“He said he needed a moment so has gone to the bar a few floors below”. Your shoulders dropped hearing this, feeling awful that he was struggling so much. “He’ll be ok sweetheart, he just has his own demons that he’s trying to fight with at the moment, you know the sort of headspace he gets into when you’re hurt”.

“I know but I haven’t seen him like this for a while, I guess I thought that side of him was over”. Sometimes when Bucky was overtly stressed with work, or needed to protect someone, particularly with regards to work, it was almost like his mind would shut down and someone else would take over. It was hard for him to deal with especially as he tended to get his emotions out violently when like this but as he hasn’t had an outlet today, he felt the need to separate himself from everyone. You knew he would never hurt you, even when he was like this so you asked Steve, “What floor is the bar on?”

Steve walked down with you and you both found him sitting on a stool in front of the bar with a very large glass of dark liquor on the bar in front of him. Steve decided to stay back and let you talk to him considering his talk earlier seemed to have done nothing to help him but reassured if you needed anything just nod.

As you walked towards Bucky, you thought about what you were going to say but your mind seemed to be completely empty of thoughts as you were so anxious you felt nauseous. Stepping next to him, he made no move to look in your direction or acknowledge your arrival and continued to stare forward. Every single muscle in his body was tense, eyes blazing with a look that you hadn’t seen in eyes like he was figuring out a way to murder everybody in the room. Your eyes flicked over his face, noting his jaw was so tense it looked like it was going to break. Unsure whether to touch him or not when he was like this, you said the only words that sprung to mind: “I miss you”.

Bucky’s entire body shifted, all of the tension seemingly melting away like a reset button had been pressed, as his eyes softened their glare as he flicked them to finally look at you. Seeing the change in him and drawing his attention, you reached across him to grip his metal hand, lifting it up to your face and reeling in the recognisable coolness of the metal against your uninjured cheek.

Turning to kiss the metal palm, you repeated, “I miss you Bucky”. There was even further relief when the pad of his thumb stroked across your cheekbone. Your boyfriend doesn't say a word, he didn’t need to as he stood from the stool, towering over you as he wrapped both of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest, his face nuzzling into your neck, taking a deep breath against your skin which seemed to also calm him further.

You hugged him back just as fiercely, eyes squeezing tight as you clung to the back of his shirt, probably crinkling the expensive material but neither of you cared. After a couple of minutes, he finally began to pull back enough that your arms could wind around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him passionately, ignoring the ache in your injured cheek from the movement.

His hands clenched around your waist at the kiss until you pulled back but that was only so you could kiss his cheek repeatedly whilst whispering, “I’m so sorry I’ve scared you Bucky, everythings ok I promise but I need you to be here with me and Steve”.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first, his only response was a nod as his body continued to try and calm down from its heightened alertness. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he said with as much passion as possible, “I’m sorry, I love you”.

“I know, it’s ok, I love you too Bucky, now let's go back upstairs and relax for the evening, ok?” he nodded his head in agreement, his hand clasped around yours as you pulled him towards Steve who smiled at the two of you.

In the elevator up to your floor, Steve turned to Bucky and placed a tender hand on the back of his head, pulling him roughly into his side, “It’ll be alright Buck”, he spoke tenderly into his ear before kissing him on the side of his head. The sight had your chest warming at the intimate show of support from the mafia leader but your thoughts didn’t dwell as the elevator dinged to indicate arrival to the penthouse.

The three of you opened a bottle of champagne and watched the sunset over the city before you decided that it was time for the pool and needed a moment to get ready. As you stood in the bathroom, you decided to continue with the plan that you’d had since you knew you were coming here. Of course, when travelling anywhere, especially somewhere this beautiful, you would want to be intimate with them both and you were hoping to take them both at the same time. So, you had decided to prep yourself a little bit with the use of your favourite butt plug and then when the three of you were ready, they could simply take it out and save the time of prepping.

It took a few minutes to work inside of you but you were happy to see the jewel gleaming from within your arse cheeks and then continued to dress into your swimsuit. You looked somewhat ridiculous with the stunning swimsuit and swollen cut to the face but it would have to do as you finally exited the bathroom.

Bucky turned to you first, hearing your footsteps as you approached the edge of the water but it was his raised eyebrow and deadpan expression that had you faltering. “What?” you asked, looking down at yourself and wondering what was out of place.

“Doll, seriously? We have our own private pool and you still think to change into a swimsuit?” Your cheeks warmed at the realisation that both Steve and Bucky were completely nude in the water and with a small smile, began to remove your own swimsuit which captivated Steve and Bucky’s attention, especially as you revealed your breasts.

As the material gathered at your waist, you turned on the spot so they were looking at your back, you bent forward to fully remove the outfit but it also gave them the perfect view of your arse with the butt plug on display.

“Fuck”, Steve cursed under his breath as he moved towards the stairs just as you began to walk over, holding out his hand for you to take and carefully descend into the water, being careful not to splash your face too much in the process. The water was the perfect warm temperature and it felt so relaxing to be almost weightless as Steve pulled you easily through the water you couldn’t reach the floor like he could, until you were near the edge, looking out over the city with Bucky on the other side of you.

The three of you huddled close together, your arms holding onto the edge of the pool, enjoying the ambience and serene moment of blissful quiet. However, Bucky couldn’t keep himself restrained for long as his hours of not seeing or touching you were beginning to get to him. Sliding behind you, his arms crowding you closer to the pool edge, his lips kissed delicately below your ear, moving south down your neck and to your shoulder. You tilted your head to the side to give him more room, releasing a soft breath at the tingling sensations his lips were causing, especially as his stubble brushed against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful”, Steve admired from beside you, his words making your cheeks flush with warmth at the compliment.

“Even with a black eye”, Bucky joked from where he was kissing the top of your back. You let out a shocked laugh, attempting to elbow him in the ribs but he easily held your arm away as he chuckled. The noise and joke were welcomed from him though to know he had calmed down enough from the initial shock of seeing you injured. “Could I make one request for tonight?” Bucky enquired, returning to kiss the pulse point on your neck.

“Yes?” you asked, already sounding a little breathless as you lazily moved your legs through the water, still holding your weight up by holding onto the edge.

“Don’t hold your noises in tonight, even though we are outside, I want this whole damn city to hear you”, Bucky grunted as he thrust his hips against your lower back, making you feel his considerably hard cock. Once again, your body warmed thoroughly at the thought of those a few floors below potentially hearing through their open windows but that also turned you on, knowing people could hear how much your boyfriends were making you feel good.

Nodding your head in answer, Bucky’s hands began to graze over your stomach under the water, stroking near your hip where you had a particularly sensitive spot that had you shivering and leaning further into him.

Steve’s hand cradled your chin, turning your face towards him where he began to kiss you desperately, his tongue immediately teasing the seam of your mouth to gain access that you granted instantly. You moaned as his warm muscle twisted with yours, loving the dominance of the kiss as he easily stood over you in the pool with his tall stature. 

Bucky’s metal fingers then began to do their own exploration as they travelled between your legs, first stroking over your pussy lips, giving you a little warning for his next movement before he pressed more firmly until he was rubbing your clit. He moved in slow circles, and your hips jerked at the action, more moans rumbling from the back of your throat and into Steve’s mouth.

The blonde man pulled back first, breathing heavily as he instructed, “What I want you to do is take Bucky and after you cum, we’re going to fuck you at the same time, understand?”

“Yes, sir”, you automatically responded, your arousal aching in your core.

“Good girl”, Bucky praised as he shifted his position but continued to play with your clit as he moved. His lower half moved further beneath you so your body was moved a little out of the water, revealing your breasts to the cool air as you balanced on his body. The tip of his cock nudged against his fingers at the apex of your thighs, and with a flick of his hips, it moved to your hole. Even though you were in the water, he still took his time, being careful to not move too quickly as he stretched your cunt. Each inch that moved in had you gasping and moaning, grabbing tightly onto Steve’s arm that shot out to support your body from toppling forward. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, Doll”, Bucky continued to encourage you as soon his hips were flush against yours which meant that he subtly pressed against the plug in your arse which only added to the heightened pleasure.

“Feels so good Bucky”, you say, closing your eyes for a moment to try and savour the feelings but then they snapped open as Steve began to squeeze your nipples. Your back arched into the touch, loving the twists and pulls he was doing to them that sent shivers straight to your centre which only meant that you kept clenching around Bucky.

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky finally began to move, slowing his fingers at your clit to match the pace of his thrusting. Each snap of his hips would cause the plug to be pushed and even his cock within your pussy was brushing against it, you already felt so full and you only had one cock in you. The motions increased as Bucky nuzzled into the back of your neck, the water surrounding the three of you splashing over the edge.

As you got used to the position and pleasure that was being pounded throughout your body, you felt aware enough to reach into the water and grip Steve’s throbbing shaft. It floated in the water and you could feel it bob at your touch as well as Steve’s very audible gasp. He always did love it when you pleasured him so even though Bucky’s cock and fingers were very distracting, you attempted to try and also make Steve feel as good as you felt.

“Fuck, I love the feeling of your hands on me baby”, Steve grunted, thrusting into your palm as you squeezed harder, moving up and down the shaft in time with Bucky’s cock. Steve’s eyes closed, head tipping back as he fell into the pleasure, but his hands never stopped with both supporting your upper half and squeezing your breasts whilst tweaking the nipples.

Bucky moved faster now, feeling your pussy clenching harder around him, his fingers swiping back and forth in firm motions. You didn’t even need to tell him that you were going to cum, from the feeling around his cock and the sweet moans escaping your mouth, he knew you were close. He fucked you harder which meant your hand moved faster up Steve’s shaft.

“Oh-God, yes!”, you chanted, eyes closed as you squeezed Steve’s cock hard as the pleasure took over you, Bucky not stopping his thrusts as you came, extending the length of your orgasm as he continued. All until Steve quickly cursed and grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from him did your pussy stop fluttering as you looked at him in worry. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, realising that you were probably squeezing too hard.

Steve chuckled, a light pink shade tinging his cheeks as he shook his head, “No baby, you were going to make me cum if you carried on like that”.

“Oh”, was all you managed to say as you felt proud of yourself for making him nearly cum so quickly.

Bucky laughed under his breath at your reaction, kissing the back of your head before easing his cock out and wrapping his arm around your waist so he could move you further away from the wall, giving Steve room to move in front of you. Both of your hands moved to his muscular shoulders, holding on as Steve pulled both of your legs around his waist, the waterline now at your navel.

Bucky's warm hand massaged one of your arse cheeks as he instructed, “Relax for me,  Sweetheart”. You made sure to ease all of your muscles down as he gripped onto the butt plug and began to slowly pull it out. You gasped loudly at the feeling of your hole stretching around the toy before relief as it moved past the thickest part.

Bucky dropped the plug, declaring that he’d retrieve it from the bottom of the pool later and began lining up his cock at your asshole. You mewled into Steve’s shoulder as you felt the thick tip breaching your hole, the stretch was just as intense as the other hole but he moved slower this time, making sure not to hurt you.

“You’re so tight, shit”, Bucky groaned as you took his length, his hands flexing against your hips as you tried to adjust to him. After a long moment, you nodded your head against Steve and felt him moving his hips, the tip of his cock now penetrating your cunt, slowly but from the fucking by Bucky, it didn’t take you as long to adjust.

As they both were fully inserted into your holes, you let out a desperate moan, feeling so full it was nearly overwhelming. Your thighs were shaking in Steve’s grip around his waist and you wanted to speak to tell them how good it felt but your tongue felt heavy in your mouth so you told them through moans and mewling noises.

Steve moved first, pulling out a few inches before moving back in. Then Bucky copied his action. Both of your boyfriends fucked you, their thick cocks stroking against every single nerve and with the way your legs were wide and spread to be wrapped around Steve, your clit was brushing against his abdomen.

Your head dropped back against Bucky’s shoulder and you had to refrain from hissing as you accidentally brushed the injury of your face against his stubble. However, with the overwhelming pleasure that was being fucked into you, you didn’t vocalise the momentary discomfort and simply turned your face away so it didn’t happen again.

With how much you were being stimulated, it didn’t take you long to orgasm again, your body tightening like a coil around both of their cocks as waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Bucky let out a deep groan and that was your only warning as he came suddenly, the feeling of your tight ass around his cock was too much for him and he was already so pent up from the day that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His balls emptied everything within them into your ass, his teeth biting into the junction between your neck and shoulder as he grunted your name over and over until there was no more cum within his body.

You shivered as he pulled out, wishing you had a camera under the water to see the cum seeping out and clouding the water slightly. Bucky’s hands moved to under your thighs, taking them out of Steve’s grip as he took your weight instead so that Steve could fuck you without any restraint.

With your eyes half-lidded, you watched as Steve leaned forward, one hand on your waist and the other on Bucky’s shoulder, using the two of you to help ground him as he continued to fuck your pussy. With the more sturdy position, he was able to fuck you as hard as he could with the water adding some restraint so that he didn’t hurt you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little crescent-shaped dents in the skin but he enjoyed the sparks of pain that came with it. “I want you to orgasm one more time for me baby, I know you can do it”.

You shouted out in pleasure at his words, hearing the desperation in his tone so you knew he was holding back from cumming because he wanted you to do it one more time. Steve fucked you, hard and fast, water splashing everywhere as Bucky continued to hold onto you tightly.

It didn’t take you long to cum again, especially as Steve dipped his head and began to suck on each of your sensitive nipples. By the time your pussy stopped pulsing around him and you were becoming entirely too overstimulated, Steve finally shouted and stilled his thrusting, his cock throbbing with each spurt of his cum as he filled you up.

The three of you took a couple of minutes to catch your breath and stretch your muscles from being in the squished position. “At least we’re in the water, don’t have as much of a clean up”, you joked as the cum mixed with the pool water. Bucky laughed before ducking into the water and returning with your butt plug.

“For you, hot mama”, he handed over the toy and kissed your cheek before helping you over to the stairs but swiftly picked you up with a steady hand at your back and under your knees. “Please tell me you two are hungry, once we’ve finished drying up, I’m ordering some room service”.

You groaned in a different sort of need from only a few minutes ago, your arms wrapping around his neck, “yes please, I’m starving after all of this activity!”

#mafia au #mafia stucky #stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky smut #marvel one shot #marvel smut #mine*

[hier--soir]

fake it

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it? warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] smut, smut, smut, it's pretty much entirely smut, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, faked orgasm, panty sniffing, cunnilingus. word count: 5.7k masterlist a/n: i've had this idea worming around in my head for days and i just had to get it out so heRE WE GO

“We’ll stop here for the night.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of Joel’s voice, and the truck rolled to a stop as he parked it in the middle of a field, directly on the edge of a thick forest. The three of you had been on the road for hours since leaving Bill and Frank’s place, and you’d drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for the past few hours, painfully aware that it was your turn to take first watch once you stopped somewhere for the night.

“Fucking finally,” Ellie grumbled from the backseat, and Joel shot her an annoyed glance through the rear-view mirror.

It was already dark outside, and you shone a torch ahead into the inky black mass as the three of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline spiking in the darkness. You’d always been afraid of it; the dark, and what lurked within it. And being in the middle of a field, late at night, unable to make a fire, was surely one of the worst case scenarios you could think of.

“You guys sure we’re safe out here?” Ellie asked warily. You noticed her eyes staring out across the forest, trying to spot anything through the thick mass of tall trees.

When Joel didn’t answer her immediately, his own eyes drifting outward to gaze into the darkness, your stomach dropped. After a second of too much silence you discreetly elbowed him in the side. His head snapped around to look at you, frowning as he rested a hand on his rib. 

“We’re fine,” you assured Ellie quickly, raising your eyebrows at Joel, as if to say, right?

“Yeah,” he said, eyes sliding from you to her. “No one’s gonna find us out here. You should get some sleep, we’re movin’ early in the morning.”

She nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced, before slipping into her sleeping bag and rolling over so that her back was to the pair of you. You stared at your partner for a moment, chest aching with anxiety, hating the way his tone of voice hadn’t calmed your nerves.

Too anxious to sit down and rest for a moment, you shouldered a hunting rifle instead, positioning yourself close to the truck, where you could see both of them clearly. Every few minutes you rotated your body, watching the trees from every angle, making sure you would notice if there was even the slightest sound or movement. You hands grew clammy where they held the gun, and you had to readjust your grip on it every once in a while.

“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice drifted over to you after a little while. You turned, huffing out a laugh when you saw him lazing on his sleeping bag, sipping from his flask of whiskey.

“What am I doing?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Getting’ drunk on the job,” he smirked, tipping his head back as he drank. You swallowed thickly, smile fading as you stared at his long, thick neck, and the way it was exposed when he tilted his chin up. It had been weeks since the two of you had done anything more than kiss, too preoccupied with Ellie, and getting to Wyoming.

It was as if Joel could sense where your thoughts had travelled, because his expression darkened, eyes squinting greedily at you from across the open space.

“Why don’t you come over here, darlin’,” he said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Joel,” you warned quietly, but he just patted his thigh in encouragement, taking a long sip from his flask.

“Just c’mere.”

You spared a glance around you, will power hanging by a thread, but ultimately shook your head, refusing. Joel let out a huff and stood up. He moved slowly, eyes never straying from your face as he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. And you watched him, tongue darting out to wet your lips as he came to rest beside you, leaning against the truck. Doing your best not to look at him, you tightened your grip on the gun and allowed yourself to lean back against the vehicle as well.

Joel held out the flask to you. “What’s got you so worked up, sugar?”

Casting an irritated glance in his direction, you snatched the flask from his hand and took a long swig, welcoming the stinging distraction as the liquid burnt down your throat.

“You know I hate the dark,” is all you said.

He hummed from low in his throat, nodding once. He stretched out a hand and snagged one of your belt loops with his finger, tugging you quickly into his side. You stumbled into his chest with a sharp gasp of surprise.

“It’s not so bad,” his deep voice drawled, plush lips grazing your ear. You shivered, tucking the flask away before placing a hand on his chest, your fingertips digging into the soft muscle there. “Nothin’ scary about it.”

Joel let his nose trace along the shell of your ear, and then across your cheek, and then his fingers were gripping your chin, turning your face to his..

His lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting, lathing his tongue along your bottom lip until you welcomed him into your mouth with a pitiful sigh. His tongue pressed against yours, stroking slowly, coaxing your jaw open. You were vaguely aware of his other hand gripping the zip on your jacket and tugging it down. Heat flared in your abdomen, and you gripped the collar of his jacket, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and pulling back, enjoying the way he groaned as you stretched it out before releasing it with a wet pop.

You watched, glossy-eyed and already a little dazed, as Joel pried the gun out of your hands. He placed it gently onto the bed of the truck. His hand traced over your stomach, fisting the material intermittently, and then he was gripping your hips, spinning you so your chest was to the car, and he was pressed firmly against your back.

“Joel,” you muttered nervously, but he ignored you, sponging kisses behind your ear, suckling on the sensitive spot where your neck met your jaw. You could feel him, hot and hard against the curve of your ass. One of his hands drifted along the softness of your lower stomach, toying with the hemline of your shirt, and a stuttered gasp escaped your lips.

Sharp teeth grazed your neck, nipping at the skin and then he was lapping over it with his tongue, soothing the piercing ache he’d caused. You sighed at the feeling, rutting backward against him. You allowed your eyes to drift shut. And then they slammed back open again, as you realised neither of you would be keeping watch if you shut them. Joel’s face was hidden against your neck, there was no way he would see if anyone snuck up on the camp. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thought, and you kept your eyes open from then on.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough and wanton with need. “I’ve been missin’ you.”

“What abou-“

“She’s asleep,” he reassured, grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, cock desperate and begging to be touched, as if he’d been thinking about this moment for hours, days, weeks. The ache between your thighs grew painful, and you rubbed against him harder.

“We have to be quiet,” you murmured quickly.

His only response was the distinct sound of his belt clinking, and then a shuffling noise as he dragged his pants low enough to free himself from the tight confines of his underwear. Not wasting a second, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and tugged them down as well, only satisfied when they rested around your knees, giving him full access to you.

One of his fingers glided messily between your folds and he sighed into your ear, marvelling at how wet you were for him already.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wish I could put my mouth on you right now. Know you’d taste so good for me, baby, always do.”

You groaned. A soft, pathetic sound.

“It’s been so long,” he groused, and you murmured your agreement. It felt like you were suspended in the air, anticipation holding you firmly in its grasp as you waited for him to do something, anything. “Can’t stand it; s’all I could think about today.”

He tapped the rough pad of a finger against your clit and your entire body flinched forward against the car. As if he could sense the way your knees were buckling, his free arm wrapped around you, holding you up. You murmured his name desperately, hips pushing down against his hand.

“Should I fuck you with my fingers first?” he asked quietly, middle finger circling your entrance. “Or should I let my cock stretch you out?”

When you didn’t answer, mind too fuzzy to string a sentence together, he said, “Hmm?”

“Please,” you keened roughly, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. “Just want you, need you inside me.”

You saw the way the muscle in his jaw worked, lips pursed together as tension rolled through his shoulders. And then his cock was gliding through your folds, smearing your slick over his length, before the blunt tip of him nestled at your entrance. A harsh shout left your lips as he pushed himself, bottoming out in one thrust. Instantly, one of his hands slapped over your mouth, fingertips pressing into your cheek. Your eyes widened, darting around the clearing that surrounded you both on all angles.

“This ain’t gonna work if you do that,” Joel said gruffly, adjusting his hips so he pulled out halfway, before pressing himself back into you. The burn was delicious, and you fluttered around him, gripping him tightly after so much time missing him inside you. A garbled version of your name escaped him, and you whimpered in response, bucking your hips backwards, silently begging him to continue.

He set a gruelling pace, pressing into you relentlessly. One hand covered your mouth while the other gripped the front of your shirt tightly, holding your body still as he fucked into you. When your body jolted against the car from a particularly rough thrust, he muttered a gruff apology into your ear, but didn’t let up. Back arching, you contracted around him, revelling in the sound of the muted groans being let out against the back of your neck.

You bit down into his palm, a muffled cry escaping you. The thought of Ellie waking up and discovering the pair of you flitted through your mind and you cringed. But it disappeared from your mind just as quickly, Joel’s movements driving it away.

The air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and an odd squelching sound, as your slick squeezed around his cock and dripped out of you. Low curses spilled into the atmosphere, and Joel was saying something, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in your ears. Everything was heightening. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and twitched with every movement of him inside you, and your hips strained backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was all so fast, so desperate, and your body was begging for release after being left untouched for weeks.

But right as you felt yourself reach a precipice, as Joel pushed himself to hit the deepest part of you, everything was ruined.

Because a violent image ripped through your mind of someone storming into the camp in that moment and dragging Ellie out of her sleeping bag. Of someone pointing a gun at you and Joel, while you were defenceless. The darkness of the night seemed to crush in around you, reminding you of its presence and suffocating you. Anybody, or anything, could be out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Goosebumps rose across your skin. You gasped at the thought, icy dread spiralling through your veins, your orgasm drawing further and further from reach. Except Joel took your gasp as a good sign, and groaned in response, hand dropping your stomach to toy with your clit as his thrusts grew jerkier. You jerked against him, mewling into his hand. It felt good. It felt so fucking good, and yet you couldn’t focus, too distracted to lure back the orgasm that had been dancing in the edges of your periphery.  

Your head was a violent jumble of pleasure and panic. A devastated moan tumbled from your lips, mouth hanging open as the head of Joel’s cock angled against your g-spot.

“There?” he asked breathlessly, and you nodded, reaching to grip the back of his neck. He moved faster, pushing and pulling and hitting that spot over and over. And you could feel the coil inside of you burn again, liquid heat spreading through your limbs as your body tried to reach that high again, but it just wasn’t fast enough. The car was cold against the front of your body, and your brain was on such high alert, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there.

“Come with me,” Joel encouraged gruffly, fingertips holding your jaw in a bruising grip. “Come on now, let me have it.”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his rapid heartbeat crashed against your back; in the ragged breaths that were exhaled across your neck. His hips were stuttering against you, thighs tense. And you wanted him to feel good. Wanted him to let go after so long – god, he deserved it. So you did something you’d never done with Joel before.

You faked it.

Your chin tilted upward to the sky, and you let deep, elongated breaths rattle through your chest, singing his name into the palm of his hand. Joel made a deep guttural sound. His fingers rubbed messy circles against your clit, and you bucked against him, heart thrashing in your chest. He said you’resotight, and you said I’m comingohgodJoelohfuck, and through it all, you could feel it growing inside of you. Your lungs burned inside your chest. He was stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously, and you let out a genuine moan at the feeling of his rough thrusts. You could feel him in the bones of your skull, in the tips of your toes, and in every inch of your body in between, and yet you needed more.

Joel trembled, his entire body shaking against yours. You felt his cock jump inside you in quick, jerky movements and clenched around him, and then he exhaled a deep groan, and went still.  

After a few moments, he pulled out, and you gasped at the cold sensation. Rapid breaths left his mouth, he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, removing his hand from your face only to wrap both arms around your torso and hold you against him. Your core ached, clenching around nothing as his spend seeped out of you, spilling onto your inner thighs.

Turning in his arms, you offered him a dazed look. Your body was hot, coiled like a string pulled taught, waiting to snap. He kissed you, with less rush this time, and you returned it lazily, reaching down to tug your pants up over your hips again. Your tried not to cringe as your underwear pressed against you. You were uncomfortably wet, and the cold material stuck to your tacky skin. Joel did the same.

Pulling back from the kiss, you rubbed the side of your jaw, flexing your mouth open in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there. Joel watched you all the while. His dark eyes flickered over your face, trying to see you through the darkness.

“You good?” he asked quietly, at the same time as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the trees, off to your left. Your head snapped to the side, eyes glaring out through the thick inky black, ears straining. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Thought I heard something.”

Strong fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face him once more. A frown had settled across his face, eyebrows drawn tight across his forehead. His lips were a thin line, and his chest still shook as he regulated his breathing, but you could see it there; the understanding. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as nervousness zipped through your body. He knew. There was no way, you told yourself. No way he could have known. And yet the longer you stared at each other, the deeper his frown got.

Wordlessly, his hand dropped between your bodies, and he pressed his palm against your mound through your pants. A soft sound of surprise escaped your mouth as his fingers curled against you, pressing against where your clit ached. You whimpered softly, numb fingers gripping his hand and holding it against you. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and you stilled, hand going lax on top of his.

“Fuck,” Joel said gruffly. “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him it was fine, to say anything, but a rustling sound caught both of your attention. It was coming from the same spot as before, only this time it seemed louder, more pronounced. Your breathing paused.

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“Joel,” you tried, panic laced through your voice.

“Get in the truck now,” he said, grabbing the hunting rifle from the truck bed. “I’ll get the kid.”

Blood rushed in your ears as you walked swiftly to the passenger side of the truck, swinging yourself up into the seat and shutting the door behind you as softly as possible. Anxious goosebumps rippled across your skin as you stared out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Ellie or Joel. Minutes passed, and then the doors opened, and Ellie slumped inside, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as Joel slammed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and tearing out of the field.

“Did you see anything?” Ellie asked from the backseat.

“No,” he said, not looking at either of you.

“Then why are w-“

“Go back to sleep,” Joel ordered her firmly, and you cringed at his tone, turning in your chair to offer her a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it, laying down across the backseats and turning her back on the pair of you.

The car was entirely silent as Joel drove the three of you back onto a road, and continued heading towards Kansas City. And as much as your body yearned for sleep, you found yourself wide awake, eyes focused out the windscreen, watching the tarnished landscape pass you by, exposed up by the car’s headlights.

After an hour of driving, Joel finally spoke.

“Ellie?” he said, tone even.

No response came from the back seat. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He repeated her name.

Satisfied when there was no response, he spared a glance in your direction, before turning back to look at the road.

As if against your own will, you whispered his name quietly, pleadingly.

“Don’t,” he practically growled.

“I’m s-“

“You thought I wouldn’t know?” his lip curled upward, a grimace painting his face. “Think that I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re faking it?”

Your entire body stilled. Heat prickled across your skin, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that Ellie was truly asleep in the backseat. Your hands were clammy, and you wiped them fruitlessly against the material of your jeans, unsure of what to say. He waited for you to speak, and when you didn’t, a loose sigh rattled from his chest.

“You do this thing,” he said quietly. “When you come.”

“What?”

“This huge smile,” he frowned. “Like you can’t help yourself. Like it felt so good, that you can’t control your face, and you smile so big I can see every one of the fuckin’ teeth in your skull.”

“Joel—"

“Every time,” he interrupted firmly.

“I-“

“And I didn’t realise,” he whispered harshly. “How much I look for it – that I wait for it, I god damn expect it.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured feebly, heat flashing through you. You gazed at the side of his tense face, stomach twisting at his words. You’d never known you did that. Never known he would notice if one day you didn’t.

“You’re sorry?” Joel scoffed. His hands gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You should be angry.”

You watched him with bated breath.

“First time I touched you in weeks, and I didn’t even make sure…,” he trailed off, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. “Like you’re some fuckin’ toy.”

“It was good, Joel,” you spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over your shoulder at Ellie’s back. “I swear, I was just distracted, and it was dark, an-“

“It’s not good with me,” he said curtly, and you stopped, wetting your lips anxiously.

Before you could say anything else, a soft murmuring came from the backseat, as Ellie started to wake up once more. You cringed, straightening in your seat and returning your gaze to the road ahead.

“This isn’t over,” Joel said, voice rough. And when he turned his head to look at you, just for a second, you nodded in acknowledgement. A dark glint of determination shone in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

A long, tense day passed by before Joel could get you alone again. You felt the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Those dark eyes watched you, uncaring of whether you noticed or not, his hands twitching towards you whenever you were close, aching to touch you, to repent. Without a chance to shower, you spent the entire day with a sticky reminder of the night before. You were uncomfortably wet, your own slick mixed with Joel’s come making a mess of your underwear, streaking down your thighs inside your trousers.

It was late afternoon by the time he spotted a house in the distance, and when he pulled up outside of it, he ordered you and Ellie to stay in the car while he checked it out.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” she said from the backseat, as soon as Joel was out of earshot.

“Me too, kid,” you muttered, eyes on the front door until he reappeared, giving the all clear for you both to get out of the truck and go inside.

“There’s a few rooms,” he told you as you looked around the house, eyes drifting over the dusty furniture, bookshelves, dining table. “Two down here, one upstairs.”

“Shotgun upstairs,” Ellie said quickly, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

“Are you hungry?” Joel called out to her back.

Ellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a look that said what do we even have to eat? But all she said was that she was gonna crash, and grumbled something about him never letting her get any sleep as she marched up the creaking steps.

“I think I’m gonna get some sleep as well,” you yawned, stretching your arm out against your chest. Joel’s eyes flashed to yours, and he huffed quietly.

“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You faltered, pulse quickening at the insinuation laced in his words.

“I—”

“First door on the right,” he motioned his head towards the hallway, and you followed him wordlessly towards the room.

It was small, cosy. Late afternoon light gleamed in through a north facing window, and the sun’s rays shone across a double bed in the middle of the room, and a bare side table. Silently, Joel stripped the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor before unzipping his sleeping bag and draping it across the mattress.

“You tired?”

You watched his hands as they spread the sleep bag out, flattening out any lumps in it. Thick, long fingers pressed against the material, and heat spread through your lower stomach.

“Yes,” you said honestly, and he nodded, tilting his head to look at you. You unzipped your jeans and discarded them on the floor before crawling onto the bed.

“How tired?” Joel queried, kicking his shoes off and joining you on the mattress. He rested back on his heels, hands splaying across your kneecaps as he gazed down at you.

You mmm’d from the back of your throat, wetting your lower lip. “Not too tired.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes drifting across your body, down your bare thighs, to rest on the dark spot on the front of your panties. His fingers traced down your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he gripped the hem of your underwear.

He pulled them down your legs, tantalisingly slow, and you watched with wide eyes as he lifted the ruined material up to his face. Maintaining eye contact, he held them over his mouth and nose, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away as he inhaled deeply. Heat soared across your cheeks, and you would have been ashamed, if it weren’t for the way you could see him beginning to bulge against the zipper of his jeans, hot and hard for you.

“I want you,” you whispered brokenly. Joel dropped your underwear onto the bed beside your body.

“I know,” he gritted his teeth, sliding his palms down your inner thighs and prying them apart so he could settle in between them.

One hand raised to cup your face and you smiled, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. His thumb grazed your bottom lip in a silent request, and you parted them for him instantly, welcoming the digit into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, wetting it, and watched intensely as he lowered his hand down your body, and pressed the finger between your folds.

“Christ,” he cursed, mouth falling ajar as he felt you. “You been like this all day?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered.   

“Then I’m a fuckin’ monster,” he chuckled mirthlessly, staring between your legs with hooded eyes. “Left my best girl all worked up. God, darlin’, look at you; dripping wet for me, desperate for something to come on.”

“Please,” you exhaled sharply. “I need you, want your cock inside me so bad.”

He tutted quietly, shaking his head a little. “You think I deserve it?” his eyes flashed to yours, mouth downturned. “Think I deserve to be inside this pretty pussy, when I’ve been so mean to it?”

Your thighs tensed painfully as his finger started rubbing lightly against your bundle of nerves.

“Because I don’t,” he said ruefully. “Think I need to make it up to you first, what do you think, baby?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

“And we aren’t finished unless you come,” he said darkly. “Do you understand?”

Your lips felt numb, tongue heavy in your mouth as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. Joel glared down at you, nostrils flared. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” you finally mewled in frustration, twitching into the mattress as his thumb swiped over your pulsing clit. “F-fuck, Joel, please.”

His finger dragged between the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading you open so he could see your glistening core. He swore under his breath, the tip of his thumb gliding over your entrance where he could see remnants of his seed still easing out of you. His knees thudded against the old mattress as he dragged himself down the bed, and then his mouth was on you.

“Ohhh,” an exaggerated moan left your mouth, leaving your lips parted in an O shape as your head dropped back into the pillow. His tongue flattened to lick a stripe up your core, all the way from your entrance to above your clit and you shuddered into his mouth, crying out at the contact. His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into you.

Joel’s nose dragged across your clit as his tongue circled your entrance, and slurping noises filled the air as he cleaned the remnants of himself from your hole. You gasped, fire racing through your veins at the idea of him drinking down his own come, and your hips bucked off the bed. The tips of his fingers dug into your thighs in a silent warning to stay still. You clawed your nails into his scalp, raking through his messy hair, doing your best not to absolutely writhe against his face.

He groaned against you, pulling back momentarily to smirk up at you, your slick shining on his lips and beard. It was shameful, the way the noises he made went to your head. The deep, growling moans, the way his hums vibrated against you. You absorbed them and filed them away into your memory, somewhere only for you to ever see. Your hips framed his face, thighs bracketed over his shoulders as he gripped them, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.

Joel worked painstakingly slowly at first. His hot, long tongue glided along the entirety of you, and then he dipped it inside your weeping hole. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his hot muscle in and out of you, until you were begging him to just please fuck me Joel please I’m sorry, but then he just sped up, moving upward to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed as he swiped back and forth sharply, his lips suctioning around it as he abused your swollen clit.

And then one of his hands disappeared, and he eased a long, thick finger inside of you. He stroked along your walls, hooking his finger against your g-spot as you cried out his name, clenching around the digit. Encouraged by the response, he swiftly pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them and stretching you out as he sponged messy kisses against your clit.

Your mind was a blur. “Shit, Joel.”

Every single nerve, every point of feeling in your entire body, was directed to the apex of your thighs, and you trembled with the intensity of it. Every kiss, every lick, every suck was a reverent apology, a vow to never let it happen again. Joel was on his knees at the altar of his god, begging for forgiveness, and you were more than happy to grant it.

It felt like your chest was being ripped open as heavy breaths worked their way out of your burning lungs, heavy panting mixing in the air with the sounds of his tongue gliding through your wetness. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you moaned roughly as he let his teeth skate ever so slightly over your clit.

His fingers pumped inside you, curling against the roof of your channel in a continuous motion as his tongue rolled against your nerves. It sent a familiar fire spreading through your abdomen, warming your entire chest, until you were gasping for air, jaw aching as it hung open, in awe of every point of contact he had with your body.

You clenched painfully tight, pussy squeezing around his fingers as his tongue swiped back and forth across your clit. Joel hummed in encouragement, mouth buzzing against you in a way that sent you careening towards the edge even faster. It seemed like every muscle in your body was tightening. Arms tensed awkwardly, one hand buried in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets beside you. Thighs pressed against the side of his head, stomach burning as he built you up and up and up and—

“Oh, oh my—fucking god,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit, and Joel braced you against the bed, working you through it. Pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you let go of everything that had ever existed in your world except for Joel. You lost yourself in him; in the glide of his tongue against your core, in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, in the rough scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. He was everywhere, everything.

In time, you were vaguely aware of him pulling back, of only the drag of his fingers inside you remaining, and you knew he must have been watching you, raking in the sight of you so exposed.

“There you go,” you could hear him saying, somewhere past the ringing in your ears. “Give it t’me. That’s it, look so pretty like this, all fucked out just for me.”

And when he dragged his fingers out of you, it was only to make room for his head to drop down once more to suck and lick at where your orgasm dripped out of you, moaning as he went, desperate not to miss a single drop.

Finally, after the final waves of your climax had settled, and your limbs dropped heavily against the bed, he kissed his way up your body, wet mouth leaving a shimmering trail along your skin until he reached your face and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, and you breathed deeply, lost in the way the sunlight danced across the back of your eyelids. You weren’t aware of the corners of your mouth tilting upward, of your lips peeling back to reveal your teeth as you grinned brazenly, cool relief coursing through you.

“Look at that,” Joel’s voice brought you back down to earth, and you blinked heavily, trying to focus your bleary eyes on his face. His hair was messy, a dark rough halo around his head as the sunlight shone around him. One side of his mouth was pointed upward, a small smirk decorating his features. “There’s that smile.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #my writing #fake it

[wttcsms]

baby, oh baby ; satoru gojo

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader word count 1.2k synopsis gojo is surprisingly good at caring. (or: he comforts you while you get morning sickness and start spiraling). content contains thr*wing up (morning sickness), pregnancy, pregnant!reader, domestic fluff, soft!gojo, reassurance

Satoru Gojo knows he’s a dead man from the minute he swings open the bathroom door and finds you curled up by the toilet. 

Even in his shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have clearly seen better days, with your hair all messed up and your lips chapped, Gojo thinks you are absolutely adorable. Beautiful, even. 

He tells you this, thinking it’ll cheer you up, but all you do is narrow your pretty little eyes at him.

“You,” you practically snarl at him. “You did this to me!”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Now, honey, I know it’s been a while since you took a biology class, but it takes two of us to, you know—” He gestures to your stomach, which still isn’t showing much of a bump since it’s only the first trimester, but you get the message. He decides he should have just shut up whenever you send him an absolutely scathing glare.

“It’s all my fault.” He immediately changes his tune. “You’re right, honey, I am an awful person for getting you pregnant. You should kill me for my transgressions.” 

“You want to make me a single mother now?” You snap at him.

“Okay, I see that that was the wrong thing to say.” Gojo tries to give you a soothing smile to calm you down, but it comes off as more of a nervous grimace. “I would never die early and let you raise our wonderful child alone. As a matter of fact, I refuse to die only until you tell me it’s okay to do so!” 

“Satoru.” You close your eyes, opening the toilet lid, anticipating another bout of morning sickness to come spilling out your mouth. “Get out.” 

“Nah. That’s the one thing I can’t do.” He dares to take another step into the bathroom, frowning at how cold the marble tiles are. It can’t possibly be comfortable for you to be kneeling on the floor like this, especially since you’re throwing up last night’s dinner. 

“Satoru, I’m not being funny right now. I’m seriously about to vomit, and you won’t want to be here.”

He kneels down by your side, gathering your hair in his hand and pulling it all behind your shoulders. “I’m not being funny, either. I’ll stay by your side no matter what.” 

You don’t reply to his sweet comment, even though you really want to. Instead, you actually do make good on your word, and only after you flush the toilet does he bother saying anything else.

“Do you feel a bit better now?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know!” You shut your eyes, leaning against him, your back pressed against the warmth of his chest. Being pregnant sounded hot during the heat of the moment when the baby was being made, but now reality is hitting, and you’re already crying about how ugly maternity clothes are. You look like a wreck right now, and you’re barely nine weeks in with the pregnancy. Meanwhile, Satoru looks fan-fucking-tastic, as he always does. 

His hand finds yours easily, and he intertwines your fingers together. He starts to absentmindedly fiddle with your wedding ring as he talks. 

“What’s bothering you?” 

You know that while Satoru was pursuing you, there was a long line of women all excited and ready to be the one by his side. You know that Satoru sometimes is a certified flight risk, running away from intimacy when the feeling gets too overwhelming for him. You know that Satoru is the only man capable of breaking your heart, and he’s subsequently the only man who would be able to piece it back together. Even with a ring and a legal certificate binding you two together, there are still annoying little doubts running in the back of your mind that has only worsened through your anxiety of life literally being grown inside of you and unbalanced hormones. 

“Everything.” You tell him, and it’s not even a joke or an exaggeration. 

“Well, tell me something that’s bothering you now. Something I can solve.” He adds on this last sentence, already knowing that you would most likely ask him for the impossible just to be funny. As conceited as he acts to the outside world, Satoru is surprisingly caring and observant towards others. 

“What if our baby is ugly?” You look up at him, gauging his reaction.

At first, his eyes widen, and then he laughs. You can tell it’s genuine because you can feel the way it comes from his chest. 

“It has us as its parents. With both our genes combined, it won’t have much to worry about.”

“No! I’m serious! Haven’t you heard the saying that two pretty people make an ugly baby?” 

“Well, we’ll be the exception.”

“I’m being serious, Satoru! Your eyes are kinda scary to look at sometimes. Our baby will need brown contacts if it inherits your eyes.” 

Oh, so because you’re emotionally fragile, you’re allowed to make comments about his eyes? Satoru snorts. You better be lucky he loves you so much. 

“Why does it matter if our baby is ugly? Why is our baby being ugly even a thought in your mind?”

“This world sucks. Looking good is key to having an enjoyable experience on earth. You should start worrying about our child’s future, too, you know!” 

“I would fight the entire world if it mistreated our baby.” Satoru presses a reassuring kiss to the top of your head. “And I know you would, too. So who cares if our baby is ugly?”

“That’s not the point, Satoru!” You frown, knowing that you’re being ridiculous right now, but who else could handle you in this state if not him? There’s a reason why he’s the one you call your husband, and he’s the one who put the aforementioned potentially-ugly baby inside of you. 

“Fine. If our baby is ugly, let’s leave it on Kento’s doorsteps and let it be his problem for the next eighteen years. Then, we can get started on the next and hope the second time’s the charm. Sounds like a solid plan?” He doesn’t mean it, but he knows it’s best to just try and nip these hypotheticals in the bud. 

You’re silent for a moment. Then, “You’re awful! I would love our baby, even if it had your eyes and crazy ass hair.” 

“I would love our baby, too. Ugly or not. You know why?”

“You’re going to say something corny.” 

“I was going to say that I would love our baby because it came from you. Nothing ugly is coming out of your body, babe. And anyway, I love you so much, how could I hate anything that’s literally half you?” 

Even if you’re in the mood to be annoying and insecure, and your brain is telling you to argue some more with your husband, you can’t help but relax after hearing this. 

(Nine months later, all your worries seem to be all for naught; your son is the cutest thing to be born.)

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #dad!gojo #domestic fluff #fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk one shot #drabble #gojo fluff #gojo x reader

[elsblunt]

casual.

the windows were fogged. the sound of your moans mixed with the sound of music playing lowly on the radio. the two of you had just talked for almost an hour, but now ellie was using her mouth for something else other than talking— or smoking.

you wanted to talk about it, you wanted to tell her how you felt, what was going on. but you stayed silent, a form of anxiety stopping you from bringing it up. this wasn’t the first time ellie did this.

she came inside your house, picked you up from your house, took you places, sat with you in silence as you stared at eachother, showered with you, listened to music with you, had multiple deep conversations with you. but it was just casual, right?

ellie never brought up what you guys were. and you didn’t either, you didn’t want it to end. but you wanted her so badly.

“ellie! fuck!” your body shutters as you feel that familiar knot in your stomach.

“mhm.. cmon baby.” she hums, hands running up your stomach, one grabbing your boob. it felt so intimate, there was something there.

your body shook as you came, ellie licking you through your high, holding your waist as your back arched. “good girl..” she rasps, kissing your clit and pulling up your panties and kissing your stomach, then kissing between your tits, to your collarbone, your lips.

the auburn haired girl moved back into the drivers seat, hair messy from your fingers being intertwined into it. she looked over and smiled sweetly when you situated yourself. it was quiet, music softly playing on the radio.

“ellie.” she hummed a response, eyebrows slightly raising but her eyes stayed on the road. “what is this?” you couldn't hold back, the want to know being stronger than the anxiety in your stomach.

ellie’s raised brows turned furrowed as she looked at you for a split second, not understanding. then she did. she didn’t respond for a minute, fingers tapping against the wheel as she thought. “i don’t know.” she shook her head, biting at her lip. ellie knew what she wanted, what she wanted this to be. but she couldn’t couldn't trust herself.

your eyes went watery, blinking it away as you looked down at your fingers. the car pulled up next to your house. you didn’t give time for her to talk, you heard her try to call for you. but your steps were quicker than her words.

is it casual now?

#🎀 ⋆·˚ ༘ * #𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

[gyuscoquetteribbon]

^᪲᪲᪲ what the world has to offer

SYNOPSIS: you were supposed to be home about thirty minutes ago. mingyu doesn't know why you aren't home yet and all his calls are left unanswered and his texts, delivered, but not read.

PAIRING: mingyu x gn!reader

GENRE: fluff, established relationship

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

notes: this is pretty self indulgent y'all also also omg first written piece that i've posted for the world to see in 4 years???? also im not very satisfied with how i ended this so my bad y'all but hopefully i get to write more in the coming weeks !!

hpr btw

'i'm close by, i'll be there in five mins !!!'

going by your last text, you should've been home about thirty minutes ago. needless to say, mingyu was beyond worried, pacing back and forth in your shared kitchen while he also he kept an eye on the boiling pasta.

'y/n.'

delivered.

'y/n why aren't you answering my calls???'

delivered, yet again.

delivered, but not read.

mingyu's anxiety, which had picked up upon the ten minute mark, only increased as all his texts were left unopened and unanswered.

the pasta had finally come to a boil. as mingyu turns the stove off, a soft tune fills the otherwise empty house.

his phone was ringing.

mingyu goes to pick his phone up, his speed only picking up when he sees your name illuminating on the phone screen. he attends your call, ready to chide you as he adjusts his phone so that you could see his (rather upset) face.

"y/n, why the fuck won't you—"

"i don't think i'm coming home tonight," you cut him off.

mingyu raises an eyebrow. he knew exactly why you were late the moment he saw you sat, leaning against a wall that looked much like the wall of the entrance to your apartment complex.

you angle your phone towards your lap, and there it was. the reason why you weren't home yet.

laying down cozily on your lap was a sleeping cat, pearly white fur with specks of dust and brown spots. if mingyu was right the stray was probably—

"i think he was abandoned," you pull him away from his thoughts, gently swiping your fingers over the cats ear that was cut at the tip, indicating it was spayed either by a rescue team or its previous owner. your free hand goes to cradle its head as it tips back.

a soft smile falls on mingyu's slightly chapped lips, his eyes gazing at his screen with so much love. he leans closer to the camera. "you don't even look at me with this much love," mingyu jokes, causing you to chuckle softly, "i'll bring him something to eat yeah?"

you nod and allow mingyu to cut the call. a shiver runs down your spine while you wait for your boyfriend to come down to join you. it was a particularly chilly evening. as you wait for mingyu, you watch the cat as its body rises and falls in a gentle rhythm. you had placed your woolen scarf over the cat earlier, when it had fallen asleep, afraid that it might be too cold for him. you sit there, wondering how confused the cat must have felt upon being thrown into the streets to fend for itself after being sheltered for so long. you felt sorry. the world is too cruel, you think to yourself.

"hi," mingyu's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you lift your head to look up at your grinning boyfriend, the scarf wrapped around his neck doesn't hide his sharp canines shining under the dim light of the lamppost.

"hi," you whisper back as mingyu squats down across you. with all the sudden commotion, the cat stirs awake, sleep eyes blinking up at the new figure before him. "he's awake," you note, eyeing the cat cautiously, praying that the presence of another person doesn't scare him.

the cat sits up immediately, the scarf draped over his body, slipping onto the ground. its eyes land on the small tin of cat food which mingyu had bought along. good thing mingyu had bought a bunch of those since you have a habit of feeding strays in your area whenever you come across one.

you loved cats. mingyu knew that much. going out on walks with you almost always meant that you'd both would have to stop somewhere in the side of a road because you came across a stray cat. sometimes, you'd stop mid conversation if you see one, rushing towards it, muttering a soft "look! cat!" mingyu doesn't mind, though.

in fact, it was this quality of yours that made him fall so deeply in love with you. despite the pain the world had given you, love was all you ever gave back. that too with a big grin on your face. when you'd run towards a stray cat mid-conversation, you'd miss the fond smile that'd fall on mingyu's lips. when he'd go shop for groceries, you'd miss the absent-minded smile that'd paint his lips when he'd inevitably walk down the aisle containing pet food. when he'd see you sat beside your potted plant, talking for hours about anything and nothing at all while a slow song plays in the background, you'd miss the way he'd look at you, with hearts in his eyes.

they can hear you. it helps them grow better, you had told him.

once again, you had missed the way he was smiling at you. "or so it seems." a puff of air briefly forms in front of mingyu's mouth as a chuckle escapes his lips. the cat jumps out of your lap and approaches the can of food cautiously, almost as if it'd disappear if he'd look away. gently, mingyu pushes it closer towards the cat, assuring that the food is, in fact, for him.

you sit on your knees, your freezing hands falling on your lap as the cat takes his first few bites, his entire face fitting into the can. when he lifts his head, his overgrown whiskers are coated with minced meat. you and mingyu coo softly as the cat looks up at the two of you with his minced meat clad fur and whiskers.

you laugh, your eyes crinkling at the sides. you sounded so beautiful. music that mingyu wishes was only reserved for his ears; for him to listen to and cherish. but alas, the world knows your name.

"you've taken quite a liking towards him," mingyu points out.

you look at your boyfriend, "i wish we could take him home." an unsaid plea.

mingyu laughs softly, reaching forward to gently pat your head, "i'm free tomorrow. i'll pick you up from work and we both can take him to get vaccinated, alright?" he smiles, mirroring your own beaming smile, "i'm sure bopeul would like a friend or two when we go visit my family when i get a break."

"and, i'm sure dollop would love bopeul too," you say.

mingyu raises a brow, "is that what we're naming him?"

"yes."

"dollop it is then," he smiles, reaching down to gently boop its snout.

you miss the way mingyu smiles at you when you aren't looking. but, you never miss the way he loves you. all the little ways he's shown his love. you've never once had to ask for something. he'd know.

maybe this was what the world had to offer for all the love you've given it.

#seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen oneshot #fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #mingyu oneshot #mingyu x reader

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v smut #bts v

[janaispunk]

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: safe and sound #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

[milf-murdock]

Safety First

(AKA: The one where Simon views “the law” as a relative term when it comes to your safety)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader 

Summary: After a scare involving a break-in at your flat, Simon decides to take extreme measures to ensure your safety—including getting you an illegal firearm and teaching you how to use it. What he doesn’t expect is just how turned on he is by watching you shoot it. Warnings: potential break-in scenario described, protective Simon to the rescue, use of a firearm, descriptive use of firearm, smut (I promise there is a plot here though it just….devolved into smut because I have no self control), P in V, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, sliiiiiiight breeding kink, praise kink (really exposed myself with the number of “good girls” here👀), no mask Simon because civilian life, mate 😌  A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. It just seems so very “Simon” to me. He would have exactly 1 (one) incident where he gets scared shitless that something has happened to you, and he would pull every last goddamn string necessary to get your trained up on a handgun to make sure you can defend yourself always, even when he’s not there. Personal firearms are very much illegal in the UK but you can’t tell me the 141 boys aren’t packing at home. Simon Riley?? Leaving weapons behind?? Be so fucking for real.

Your grip on the shopping falters, nearly dropping the heavy container of milk. Your body freezes as you take in the sight before you, immediately on high alert. The front door stands ajar.

Someone’s broke in, your anxieties speak for themself. Images flash in your mind at a rapid pace, escalating in concern: men ransacking through your things, hiding out, waiting for you, strong foreign hands on your body—your shaking hands have your boyfriend’s number dialed before your imagination dares to unfold any further. You drop the shop bags on the floor, backing away from the door and down the hall of your complex.

“Hey—“ the deep  familiar baritone is immediately cut off by your sobs. 

“Si-Simon?” You choke out his name between your gasping breaths. You try to steel yourself, but the tears have already started.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Simon’s voice instantly hardens, shifting to one of action. 

The tears are relentless now, and you try to force them at bay to respond. 

“Answer me, love, are you hurt?” Simon’s voice raises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“N-not hurt,” you gasp out. “It’s my flat. The door’s open. I know I locked it—at least I think I locked it, I went to the shop, I needed more milk, remember? I was only out for a bit—“

“Breathe, babe. Breathe.” You can hear the jingle of keys in the background of the call. “Listen to me very carefully, love. You turn around right now and get back in your car. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.” 

You sniff, thankful the tears seem to have finally subsided. You’re already put slightly more at ease knowing Simon is on his way. “Okay,” your voice waivers. “I can do that.” 

“‘Course you can. Now stay on the line with me until you get to your car.” You hear his car door slam in the background. 

__________________

Simon turns the 20 minute drive to 7. 

His sharp tap on your window startles you, sending your heart racing once again. 

“Stay ‘ere, love. Be right back.” Simon’s voice is muffled through the window, but you nod in response. 

Simon makes his way up the stairs to your flat, pulling his concealed weapon to his side and subtly shifting the safety off. The heavy weight of the cold metal is familiar as he cocks the weapon, preparing for a sweep. The motion is as natural as breathing for him. He gently toes open the door, immediately pulling his weapon at attention as he scans the room for threats. “Clear” Simon thinks to himself. Some habits are too deeply engrained. 

He makes his way through your flat, thoroughly checking for anything amiss. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks clear, he disarms the weapon, clearing the loaded round from the chamber and clicking the safety back on. The gun gets tucked back safely against his body, concealed from sight as he makes his way back out to your car. 

Simon gives you a brief nod, signaling all was clear. At that sign, you fling the car door open and throw yourself out of the car, instinctually trusting those strong arms to catch you. 

The moment your face is buried in the broad expanse of his chest, his familiar scent hitting you like a freight train, the tears well up once more. 

“S-sorry, I was just so freaked out,” you stutter, unsure if Simon could even understand you with your face pressed against him, but unwilling to untangle yourself even a bit. 

“Shh, it’s alright swee’art,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I scoped out the whole place. It’s clean.” 

He could feel the relief in your body as you took in his words. 

“You sure you locked the place up, babe?” Simon treads lightly, not wanting to upset you further. “It didn’t look like anybody had been in. Could’ve just been a draft knocking the door open if it wasn’t shut and lcked properly.” 

You pulled your head back from Simon’s chest, fumbling with the edge of your jumper to gently wipe the tears and snot from your face, sniffling. 

“I’m sure I locked it.” You pause for a moment. Well, at least you think you’re sure. You think back to when you left your flat, hands juggling your keys, your purse, distracted by your neighbor and his adorably fluffy Pomeranian who were leaving at the same time. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded your attention, of course, and who were you to deny him all the fluff-filled pets his heart desired? Embarrassment curdles in your stomach, a heat creeping up into your cheeks. 

“Well, maybe not absolutely sure…” you correct yourself. “I think I did, but Mr. Darcy was out, and I got distracted, and I just needed some milk for my tea, and I—“ 

Simon took you back in his arms, cutting off your monologue. “Ahh, Mr. Darcy, you said?” He knows your fondness for the small Pomeranian well, especially after the last time you dog sat for them and insisted Simon make friends with the blasted pup. “That would explain it.” 

“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” you sigh, shame replacing the fear. “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“Oi-“ Simon is quick to cut you off. His strong hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You did the exact right thing. Any time something feels off, got a bad feeling from some bloke at the pub, walking out by yourself in the dark, I don’t care what it is or when it is—you call me. Understood?” 

“Understood.” You sniffle once more. 

“Let’s get back inside and get you that cuppa,” Simon soothes, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you back inside your flat. He stops to grab the forgotten shop bags off the floor with one hand. 

__________________

You two are getting ready for bed, having convinced Simon to spend the night—not that it took much convincing. Simon watches as you parade around the bedroom in one of his oversized t-shirts, toothbrush in your mouth as you walked around getting ready for bed. It’s in these little moments he realizes how truly in deep he is. He’d give his left fucking arm to have this view daily. 

“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” you quip, exiting the bathroom and sliding into bed next to him. “And for agreeing to stay the night.”

“‘Course, love.” Simon opens his arm and lets you get into your designated spot, head on his chest, leg tangled over his, hand resting on his stomach. “Woulda probably stayed the night anyways.” 

“Yeah, but still…” you let out a sigh as you settle in, curving your body against his. The warmth of his body heat warms your chilled frame. 

“I was so scared.” Your voice is a whisper in the dark. “I just kept imagining the worst possible scenario. What if I was home? Alone? And someone did break in? What if you weren’t here? What if you were overseas?” Your breath hitches and your heart rate picks up again. Simon resumes rubbing soothing circles across your back. 

“I just felt so helpless. So defenseless.” 

“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady. “Everything worked out okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Between the repetitive soothing motion of Simon’s strong hand against your back and the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat, sleep soon found you despite your fears. 

As your breaths evened out, Simon’s own mind starts swirling with dark thoughts. The what if’s find purchase in his brain and he subconsciously pulls your sleeping form even closer to him.  

You were right, of course. He couldn’t always be here. He had to find some way to make sure you could take care of yourself, to make sure you could defend yourself. He had to know you were always taken care of, no matter where he was. 

Of course he had already walked you through the basics of self defense. You had a decent right hook, and he more than appreciated the opportunity to teach you a few other moves that had the two of you sprawled on the floor of your sitting room, sofa pushed up against the wall to create enough space. If his memory served him correctly, that particular little sparring session had resulted in an entirely different from of…wrestling.

But none of it was enough to put his mind at ease. Simon knows that if someone truly meant to do you harm, someone from his line of work…all the moves in the world wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t want you getting close enough for that kind of combat anyways.There was only one thing that could make him feel even a modicum of peace. 

Simon was going to teach you to shoot. 

______________

That weekend, Simon woke you up bright and early, claiming to have a surprise date for you. 

“Oooh, what is it?” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement in the kitchen chair as Simon hands you your breakfast. 

“If I told you, wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?” 

“Fair point,” you mumble around a mouth full of toast. 

“Let’s just say it’ll make us both feel better.” Simon takes a sip from his mug. 

__________________

You gazed out the window, the rising sun casting the military base in a warm glow. Simon had never brought you here before, had always hidden this part of his life away from you. You try to drink in as much detail as you can, driven by curiosity at this mysterious part of his life. 

Simon pulls the car as close to the shooting range as he could. Despite the base being mostly deserted this weekend, he was still taking every precaution necessary to ensure he was limiting your exposure to this area of his life as much as he could. 

With the car parked, Simon makes his way to your side of the car, his large, protective form shielding you from any prying eyes. He feels particularly exposed without his mask, but it’s a short walk to the range and he trusts that Price has held up his end of the bargain to keep this particular area abandoned this morning. His hand finds its way to the small of your back and guides you inside the range. 

The smell of gunpowder immediately filled your nostrils. There was always a lingering scent on Simon when he came home, but nothing quite as affronting as this. 

As promised, the range was completely cleared out, and Simon made a mental note to personally thank Price for his help. 

“What’re we doing here, Si?” Your voice piqued with curiosity. 

“Well, we’re teaching you how to shoot, o’ course.” 

“But why? It’s not like I’d ever have access to anything like that. S’not legal.” 

“About that.” Simon made his way to an area of the range that housed the standard weapons that were available for practice. He trusted that Price followed through on one other crucial part of this deal. 

Sure enough, a small compact handgun was nestled amongst the other array of firearms. 

Simon grabbed it, testing its weight in his hand before making his way back to you. 

“Listen to me very carefully, love,” his tone shifted, dripping with sincerity, and a touch of his natural commanding energy. 

You immediately sober up, looking at him with your full attention as if to show how good a listener you were. 

“This is for emergencies only. It stays hidden always. No one knows you have this. No one knows this even exists. It’s very important you understand that.” 

“But how did you—? Should I even—?”

“Mm-no questions. Just—“ Simon lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Just trust me. I need to make sure you’re safe. ‘Specially after that little scare earlier this week.” 

You nod your head solemnly. “I understand, Si.” 

“Good. Then let’s get after it.” 

He guides you over to a stall and places your gun on the countertop as you assess your surroundings. There’s five lanes in this section of the range, each separated by stalls with an open range ahead. You can make out five faux targets at the end of the lane, but they seem impossibly far. Surely no-one can actually make that shot, you think to yourself. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Ghost steps up to you and places a pair of bulky earmuffs over your head. “These’ll help protect your ears while we practice,” he says as he adjusts them to fit snugly against your ears. 

“Don’t you need some?” Your voice is raised to compensate for your dulled auditory senses. 

Simon chuckles in response. “I’ll be alright. M’used to it.” 

“Now go pick it up,” he gestures towards the gun. “Safety’s on so don’t worry. It won’t bite.” 

Reality sinks in as you step forward and reach for the weapon. It’s lighter than you expected, but there’s a heftiness there that doesn’t have anything to do with the weight of the object itself. You test the feel of it in your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen in movies. 

“Good,” Ghost murmurs, stepping up behind you. He’s close enough now that you can feel him pressing up against your back. Two strong arms encase your frame as he leans forward and places his hands over yours. His large hands manage to make the weapon, and your hands, look even smaller. “Hold it like this.” He adjusts your grip just slightly. “Atta girl.” 

His thumb guides your own along the edge of the handle until you reach a firm button on the side. “Here’s the safety. You can tell it’s on when this red button is sticking out. See that, yeah?” 

You nod your head but it’s taking every ounce of energy you have to focus on his words and not the feeling of Simon’s hard body pressed against your back, his hot breath sending a chill down your neck, and the look of his large hands dwarfing your own—

“Oi. Pay attention. This is important.” 

You mentally scold yourself and refocus, adjusting your grip. “Okay, so the safety’s on?”

“Yes. Press it in to turn it off.”  You do as he says, the click instantly elevating your senses. Did the gun get heavier? 

“Now, pull back the top like this to,” he motions pulling back the barrel. “That’ll load the bullet into the chamber. It should already have a round in there, but we’ll get you some more ammo before we leave. Go ahead, cock it.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. “Cock it, eh?” You turn your head to waggle your eyebrows at him. 

“Behave,” Simon warns, turning your chin to face forward. 

It takes more power than you expected to pull the barrel back, but the reaffirming click lets you know that something did indeed happen inside. 

“Alright, she’s loaded now.” 

“Okay…” you hesitate, waiting for further instructions. “Now what?”

“Now you point and shoot.” 

“At what?”

“See that fella at the end there? Aim for his head.” Simon gestures to the paper dummy hanging at the end of the alley. 

“All the way down there? There’s no way anybody could hit that!” You protest. 

Simon sighs, resigned, and flicks a small toggle on the countertop, triggering the electric pulley system that pulls the paper dummy closer to you, stopping it about halfway down the track. 

“Better?” 

“Only one way to find out,” you mutter, adjusting your position and taking aim. 

With a centering inhale, you close one eye, aim as best you can, and pull the trigger. 

The shot rings out louder than you thought possible, even with the ear protection. The force of the shot thrusts you backwards into Simon’s sturdy frame. Gun powder fills your nostrils even stronger than before. Your heart races as you look ahead to see…

You’ve miss the target completely. 

 “S’alright, love, wasn’t too terrible for your first shot,” Simon consoles. 

“Here, move your foot,” he gently taps the inside of your foot with his toes, and you spread into a wider stance. “Good, now straighten up those shoulders. Don’t worry about cocking it yet, let’s get the position right.” 

You do as he says, pulling the gun up once more to eye level. 

“Give your elbows a bit more bend. You want to hold it tight, but be loose enough for the recoil so it won’t knock you on your arse.”

“How’s that?” You ask, loosening your shoulders and relaxing your arms just slightly. 

“Looks good to me. Go ahead and cock ‘er.” 

You pull the barrel once more and ready yourself to take another shot. 

“Deep breathe,” Simon reminds you. “Now I want you to keep both eyes open, and look at where you’re directing your shot. You want to aim just slightly above your target. Gravity will pull the bullet down a bit from this distance.” 

You try your best to keep all these factors in your mind as you take your aim. 

A deep inhale and you brace yourself as you pull the trigger. 

This time you have a better idea of what to expect, and you move your upper body with the recoil, feeling more stable.  

“Did I do it? Did I hit it?” The excitement radiates in your voice as you eagerly lean over the table to get a better look. 

Simon can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, so at odds with what he usually sees in this environment. “Let’s take a look,” he says as he presses the toggle and the motorized target moves closer. As it gets within range you see a clear, definitive hole in his upper right chest. “I got him!” You exclaim, jumping up and down. 

“Easy there, love,” Simon scolds halfheartedly as he leans over you and clicks the safety into place. 

You set the gun on the counter and turn to throw your hands around Simon’s neck, laughing. “I did it, Si!” 

You laughter is contagious and Simon’s own chuckle is music to your ears as his strong arms lift you up on your tiptoes. “Yeah, you sure did, babe.” 

And then his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and passionate, setting your body ablaze. He deepens the kiss for a final moment before setting you back on your feet and pulling away, leaving you breathless. 

“Damn,” the curse falls from your lips as you try to catch your breath, feeling just a tad lightheaded. 

“Right,” Simon clears his throat, trying to get the run of himself once more. He not-so-subtly adjusts his trousers bringing a satisfying smirk to your lips before turning you back around. 

“Let’s get some more practice in.” His voice is resolute, but the bulging erection currently pressing into your backside says differently as he sends the target back to the middle of the range. 

You pick up the gun once more, already feeling more comfortable with it, and adjust your stance to set up for another shot. Simon reaches up and corrects your aim just slightly, and you take the opportunity to lean back into him, ass rubbing against his hardened cock.

“I said behave,” Simon groans aloud, but you can feel his hips thrust ever so slightly in response. 

You fire off another shot, reloading and firing two more times. The thrill of each shot sends a jolt of electricity through you. You feel in control. Not helpless. Not defenseless. No, you feel…powerful. 

Simon swears his cock couldn’t get any harder. He had brought you here with the express purpose of teaching you to defend yourself when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly have anticipated just how fucking turned on he’d get watching you fire that weapon. 

Your confidence grows with each shot, your stance already self-assured. You look like a badass. And right now, it is taking every last goddamn bit of strength and willpower for Simon to stop himself from taking you right then and there. 

Finally, the gun gives a satisfying click, signifying the end of your rounds.  

“Phew,” you exhale with a chuckle. “That was an absolute thrill.” Clicking the safety back in place, you set the gun down and turn to face Simon. 

The wide smile on your face, bright as the morning sun, it takes his breath away. He can’t hold back a second longer. His lips crash against yours, large hands settling on your hips, pushing you back against the countertop. He doesn’t dare break the kiss as his meaty hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before lifting you up with a grunt to set you on the countertop. 

“Si!” Your exclamations drown in another breath-stealing kiss as Simon slots himself between your legs. 

Simon bites back a groan as he grinds his erection against your core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

Deft fingers undo the button on your jeans and you lift your hips up, allowing him to pull down your trousers and knickers in one swoop. 

You let out a hiss as the cool countertop meets your bare ass, but the sensation is lost among more exciting sensations as Simon gets on his knees before you. Thank god for his height—even with you seated on the countertop he’s at the perfect height. 

“Bloody perfection,” Simon eyes your bare cunt, eyes full of wanton need. 

His comment brings heat to your cheek, intensified by his playful nips and kisses placed along your inner thighs. 

He kisses higher and higher, exciting you with every soft kiss, before skipping right over where you truly need him, moving to the other thigh. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “Quit teasing, Si.” 

His brown eyes shoot to yours, giving you a look—how dare you order him around. He has half a mind to punish you right here and now, but the scent of your dripping cunt hits his nose and his mouth waters on instinct. He places one more kiss to your thigh before acquiescing and a moving to your core. 

Words escape you as he laps at your heat, eating like a man starved. Fingers tangle in his dark blonde locks, hips rising off the cool countertop to meet him. 

Simon’s strong hands slide up your legs, gripping your hips and forcing you back down on the counter, tongue driving deeper between your folds, relishing in your gasps of pleasure. 

His tongue slides up your sweet folds, savoring every drop, until he reaches your puffy clit. This is when Simon slows it down, takes his time. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending shivers up your spine. He continues teasing you like this, your legs shaking until you’re not sure how much more you can take. 

His eyes are wide open, locked on your squirming form. While shooting that firearm gave you a sense of power, this is what gives Simon his sense of power—watching you come undone by him, his tongue, his actions alone sending you into this frenzied state. His right hand slides from your hip to your inner thigh before sliding inside you. He curls his fingers expertly, hitting that spongey spot inside you, making you see stars. He takes your clit into his moth, suckling at the swollen nub, fingers fucking you hard, preparing you for his cock. He releases your clit with an audible pop, his voice breathy and low. 

“You’re gonna come for me right now. Just like this. On my fingers. Understood?” 

You’re past caring. You’re past words. But somehow you manage out a breathy “Yes, yes, Si, just let me— I’m gonna—“ his tongue is back on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot just so and you’re toppling over the edge, body going rigid. Simon’s tongue is incessant, lapping up every drop of juice that spills from your sweet cunt, prolonging your orgasm with every nip and suckle until you’re bucking up against him. 

“Too sensitive, Si,” you mumble, lost in the haze of your orgasm. 

“That’s just how I like you swee’heart.” Simon stands up and undoes his belt, freeing his cock from its restraints. You crack your eyes open to see him wrap a fist around his cock, giving his member a few rough tugs, rolling back the skin to expose the deep red shade at the tip of his cock, already leaking precum. You bite your bottom lip as you let out a moan. 

“Now you gonna take my cock like a good girl?” Simon smirks down on you, making eye contact as his fist slides languidly up and down his cock. 

You nod fervently. 

“Good girl, just what I like to hear.” With that, he notches his cock at your opening, looking to you for one final nod of approval before he starts inching inside. 

You gasp at the intrusion, but Simon’s groans are nearly pained. 

“Fucking hell, babe, you’re so fucking tight.” 

You can only whimper in response, still lost in the post-orgasm bliss. 

“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath. “Gotta relax, love,” he presses one hand against your abdomen. “Relax for me. You can take it. I know you can.” 

Simon’s mumbles even more praises, each good girl blurring into one another, lulling you, relaxing you. With a final grunt, Simon thrusts in to the hilt, filling you completely. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” Simon growls, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back into you. “Ya always take me so well, so fucking well.” 

His thrusts are deep, steady, his thick arms holding your body in place while his hips drive home. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, punctuated by your moans, and Simon swears he’s never been so thankful for Price’s little favors in his entire goddamn life. 

“Si…” you cry out, already feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. Simon is already two steps ahead of you—he recognizes that tell-tale tightening of your cunt, that change in pitch as your breathy moans increase. Simon slides one hand from your hip down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“C’mon sweet girl, my good, sweet girl,” Simon’s hips move faster, cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he teeters on the edge. “Gonna come all over this fat fucking cock, yeah? Gonna let me fill you with every last drop of me, huh?” Simon’s words bordered on nonsense at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure. 

“Need it, Si,” you gasp. “Need to—gonna—can I—“

“Yes,” Simon growls low. It sends you over the edge, your entire body goes rigid as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. 

“That’s my girl, good girl,” Simon coos, working you through your orgasm. His thumb doesn’t leave your puffy clit until your body is jerking against him, overstimulated and worn out. 

“You’re such a good girl coming undone for me, love,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp temple. 

You’re barely floating back to reality, but you know he hasn’t finished yet. “Need you, Si,” you moan. “Need you to fill me up…please?” You’re downright pitiful about it, but Simon swears it makes him cock even harder. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Simon adjusts your hips in both holds, holding you steady as he pounds into your swollen pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Not gonna last long like this.” Simon loses all sense of rhythm as he pounds into you with abandon, searching for his end. “Fuck, I’m coming—“ Simon finishes with a growl, hips giving one final hard thrust before his warm seed start to flood you. Simon holds you close as he finishes, panting hard, forehead pressed to yours. 

You reflexively tighten your core, causing Simon to inhale sharply, beyond sensitive. 

“Fuck,” Simon curses, his breath still coming in pants as he tries to slow his heart rate. “You’re bloody perfect.” 

You chuckle in response, flushed from the thrill and excitement. “You’re just saying that because it turns out I’m a decent shot.” 

Simon smiles softly before nuzzling his head in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. 

“Something like that, love.”

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon “ghost” Riley x reader

[sugurizz]

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭.: Joo Jaekyung x f! reader - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 , 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: '𝐉𝐨𝐨 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐒 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥' — The eventful match that could rewrite team BLACK’s history is nothing but a few hours away. But a sudden rush of adrenaline had his very assistant and physiotherapist Y/n acting out her own character. Unwillingly, her fiery lust unravels for the sadist athlete, leading to a torrid pre-match night.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: TOXIC! behaviour, dark content ahead!, explicit/ graphic content, power dynamics, authority, Dom/sub dynamics, masturbation (fem. receiving)/ blowjob/ unprotected/ vaginal sex, anal sex (rough), reader losing all sense of self-control and just wanting to be pounded STUPID, reader turning into a braindead romantic slut, heavy degradation, taunting/ teasing, rough/hardcore manhandling, pining/begging, heavy squirting, water stuff *Ahem* (just a hint, you’ve been warned :) ), creampie, reader clearly catching feelings throughout the whole thing.

𝐰.𝐜: 2,7k.

𝐉𝐎𝐎 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 − 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

'What brings you here?'

He stood in the entrance, his thick dark eyebrows frowned upon the almond-shaped eyes.

‘I said to meet me at 10, didn’t I?’

'Sorry, I know. I'm way ahead of our… meeting.'

He let you in with a low grunt − a strong eau sauvage cologne scent filling his hotel room made you already more sensitive…

————

You struggled to sleep the whole night. The pent-up anxiety combined with the anticipation for Jaekyung's fateful match twisted your stomach into a million knots. Time trickled by painfully, waiting on his phone call to finally have you over.

You waited in your room, eager and in heat. Your little fingers fiddled with your pussy for minutes that led to hours. You figured pleasuring yourself to the thought of him would cut it off and finally offer you some relief, but the burning arousal between your legs dripping through and through put your efforts to shame.

Becoming jaekyung's personal slut within the first week you two met each other got your little inexperienced body so used to his. Nothing else but his strong scent, his bulky weight, his suffocating heat and his rough touches satisfied your cravings anymore. And it showed every time you tried getting yourself off on your own.

Your visual memory turned into luscious eroticas of the handsome man, fogging-up with vivid shots of him choking you out, groping your ass like a pervert and whispering the filthiest insults into your neck. And so came the moment where your own legs took you to his room, nerve-burning lust already clouding over your brain −

————

'Oh,'

He opened the door and stepped closer to the door frame, height difference soaking your cunt instantly.

'Well…I don't feel like it now.'

He smirked and looked you up and down, the upwards curl on his rosy lips paired with his thick adam’s apple tempted you to suck on, peck and nibble.

You hated to feel so small and needy, but you were soaking through your thong. His thick cock is all you had in mind all day, and the ache between your legs persisted, if anything it got worse now that you saw him in his black sleeve, his stomach muscles still contracting from his pre-match training.

'And you didn't bother putting something less slutty than that? How lewd of you…' He pinched your left nipple over your thin shirt, 'You walked down the hallway with your nips perked out. And showed up to my door two hours prior…

Have you lost it?'

'But sir…Please, w-what does it matter if we did it a bit…sooner?'

'So we asking for it now, huh?' He raised a brow, 'I'm so used to your bitchy whines whenever I lay a finger on you,

He stepped forward, closing the distance between your bodies as his beautiful black eyes stared you down

's not like you at all to be so eager, doc.'

'P-Please fuck me! I’ll take all of you, promise!' Your voice softens, legs almost giving in from lust.

'How shameless. begging me to run a train on you in a hotel room' He crosses his arms over his chest, giving you a better view of the inked dragon on his forearm.

'Go play with yourself for me, yeah? Take your time till I hit you up.' He coos, leaning down to reach your head level.

'But it's…n-not working!' You protested, eyes filling up with tears. There was clearly no waiting further, your poor pussy begged you to touch Jaekyung and your brain rotted away, picturing him thrusting in every hole you had on repeat.

You took a couple steps forward and propped yourself on his bed, sliding your hand beneath your underwear. Back arching and head digging into the matress, you pulled your thong to the side, giving him a perfect shot of your bare ass and slickened folds. His brows furrowed, curious at a slutty doc slowly losing all her shame.

You brought your middle and ring finger to your lips and coated them in your spit, shamelessly staring dead into his eyes as he watched with crossed arms. You thrusted your fingers into your hole with a loud ‘Oh gosh-‘, no thoughts left in your mind to care.

His pheromones took over your brain the moment he opened his room door. Or so you chose to blame them for slowly corrupting you. You hated to see yourself begging him, but pride be damned! Your pussy acted on her own free will, and you weren’t about to hold her back no matter the reason.

'You need cock this fucking bad huh, Y/n?’ He sneers, eyes glued to the lewd sight you just offered him,

‘You’re dying to take it, hmm?'

‘Mr Joo, please c-come closer to me,

‘C-Can’t take it anymore, mr Joo…please’ Your fingers sped up the thrusts, slimy precum dribbling down your thighs ‘Fuck me till I squirt! It’s so much better when it’s your cock fucking me!’

'Remember how much you begged me tonight, doc…'

He yanked a fistful of your hair backwards, lining your face lower with his throbbing bulge.

'Get my big cock hard for me and I’ll see if I can be nice to you, would ya?'

You shoved your face into his crotch, breathing in his slightly tangy scent as much as your lungs could take, muffling your nose into his freshly shaven pubes. You whine deliberately, sending vibrations through his shaft and squichy balls. The slit on his cockhead drips more cum, spreading the slight saltiness over your tastebuds.

‘Hey, look at me’

He stuffed his thumb into your mouth, slapping his flushed tip on your lips as you you planted a wet kiss right on his cockhead.

The feverish desire to touch him drove you insane, swirling your tongue over his tip and twisting your little fists all over his veiny length. you splayed your palms on his abdomen, fingernails tracing his strong V-line and groping his large pelvis for leverage.

‘mmh need it so much…’ Your tongue flattened, gliding along his thickest vein, that one that makes you moan in pleasure every time Jaekyung stretches your tight uterus.

He groans and falls back onto the couch, spreading his legs wider as you deep-throated most of his fat cock. You smirked and wrapped your lips shut, feeling proud of yourself as his thick base finally made contact with your lips.

‘Mmmh…look at you, Team Black’s sweetheart. Acting all nice and coy while milking my cock dry’ He falters and throws his head back, grunting louder.

His thick, toned hips clenched upwards as you hollowed your cheeks, letting go with a wet pop. You pumped him up and down, lips pleasuring his warm, fat ballsack. You suckled his left nut and softly fondled the right one in your palm, smearing it with his overflowing precum.

His fingertips dug into your scalp, messing your locks up and bobbing your head on his length. A deep crease formed between his raven thick brows, his plump lips forming a cute o shape.

‘You’re leaking so much precum, mr Joo..’ You coo ‘You shame me for wanting you…while your balls feel so full and heavy in my mouth’ You smirk and gently massage your fingers into his warm balls, kissing them even slower.

‘look…I made you hard… just as you told me’

You bat your lashes and stare into his eyes, leaning your head on his thigh and stroking his cock next to your cheek. You pump him faster, your free hand caressing his stomach and hips.

‘Ngh…you’re loud tonight, doc’ He shoved your head deeper in, gagging you till the fat tears came out. ‘But guess I gotta keep my promises huh?’ The two large hands held your head still, squeezing your already soaked chin. Your tears blur the sight of his reddned cheeks, hiccuping from how much your throat squeezed on his cock.

He props his hands under your arms and lifts you up. Noticing the spot of your wetness on the carpet. Your pussy throbbed from Jaekyungs raw groans. A clear puddle of wetness formed under you cunt, getting bigger and stickier the whole time you sucked him off on your knees.

'Did you cum yet, miss Doc?' he smirks and whispers into your neck.

The faux empathy in his voice struck a nerve. You shook your head no in frustration and turned around to face him. ‘You p-promised to make me feel good too!’

You straddled his thigh, small hands groping his hard pecs.

‘I don’t wanna wait anymoore..’

'I wonder what would you do without me, miss y/n.' He flicked his tongue, grabbing your waist firmly and setting you spread on bed surface.

‘Where do you want me, doc? which hole of yours wants me more?’ He stood over you and gave himself a few pumps, hand wrapped on your hip.

‘Whatever hole you want, I just want you!’

‘Both are damn tiny to me’ the cocky smirk on his face never falters, throwing you over his bed and pulling you closer by your ankles.

He flips you over and pushes your face deep into his sheets, pulling your thin T-shirt over your head. The soft flesh of your breasts tingles, nipples all raw and sensitive from the friction. His full weight pours onto your back, both your skins sticking on each other.

‘Want them both fucked loose tonight? I’m feeling generous’

You spread your legs wide, taking him past your puffy lips. His fists pinned your wrists to the bed, pushing a low curse under his breath.

He folded your legs over your head, pressing firmly till he shaped you in a perfect mating press. You gasped and clawed at the sheets, feeling the harsh push of his thick cockhead. You felt that puffy vein again, frotting in and out of you as your clenching got worse.

‘Fuck…mr Joo..feels so good- so fucking good!’

His steady pressure got heavier, ridged sides of his girth restlessly bumping into your cervix, ripping some of the loudest moans from your mouth. You locked him between your arms, pressing down on his back to keep him closest to you.

Taking him deep inside you did feel good, but the warmth his body covered you in got you to a different high, one that had you almost confessing to him mid sex.

‘I l-like it, mr Joo…I like you a lot-

'You're a fucking mess today, aren't you?' He grasped your throat tighter, slapping both your cheeks. You jerked away from the stinging pain, mouth opening to shamelessly ask him for another one.

‘I-I want more, want you…mr Joo..so bad’

'Hey, You're fucking wasted, are you?' He spits on your pursed lips and smears it, large palm hitting across your tender cheek again.

His stirred breaths ran heavier. The steamy air between you and him barely found a way, your skins sticking flush on each other, only separating to come back together with loud ‘plap‘ noises.

‘Mghh mr Joo…I-I’m close’ Your nails traced along his chiseled back, ripping your first orgasm for the night. The spasms coursed through your body as you creamed a frothy ring at the base of his dick. The blurry sight of his raven eyes turned you hungrier, babbling pleas in the crook of his neck,

‘Don’t stop, Joo…I want m-more, much more…please-‘

‘Dropping formalities now? Don’t recall you being so friendly, gross girl’

Your pussy flutters at his insults, He swept you off the bed with ease, hooking his thick biceps around your legs. suspending you mid-air with his fingers buried in your asscheeks. He lifted you up to his chest level, holding your legs wide open to the full-size mirror covering the wall.

‘If you want more you better watch every damn second of it, miss Doc’ His pearly teeth showed a cheeky smirk, ‘We look so good in this position, don’t we?’ He chuckles and bucks his hips up, thrusting again with a deep groan.

'Too much…I don't think I can..keep up− mmh fuck!..' He picked his pace up, his bulky thighs slapping yours senseless. The Room filled up with the lewdest noises as you grew worried about strangers on the other side of the wall.

You slipped a trembling hand into his hair, his smooth undercut and soft supple neck felt so pleasant to touch. He’s achingly handsome, crimson lips almost inches from yours. You seized your chance quick and slammed his mouth on yours, suckling his tongue like the lovesick mess you are…

A lovesick mess you’ve for a while now. You did hate him…almost to death. His demeanor, his bold advances, his rude mannerisms and even his mere presence were unbearable to you at first. And yet you opened your eyes to the intimate sight of him inside you. A sight that got you obsessing over for weeks before this night.

Suddenly being his slutty stress reliever felt so good to you. And the more he took it out on you the weaker your self control ran.

‘brace yourself, I’m making you face me now’ He flipped you around over his torso with almost no effort, your little hands holding still onto his shoulder blades. Your breasts pressed tight against his hard pecs, giving you a mini heart attack. You lost yourself on his cock again, amourously blabbering some lovedrunk nonsense.

‘F-Fuck…c-can we do it more p-pleasee, my pussy feels so good, I l-like it when mr Joo does it-‘

You stared at Jaekyung, eye to eye level. His thick baby-like lashes and the glossy sweat glittering on his skin had you all soft and fuzzy. You got so shy your stomach turned, realizing the tiny distance separating you two..

‘Mmh…still fucking tight’ He pants and bumps your foreheads together, teeth clenching the moment he slides into your tiny asshole.

You dug your heels into his firm butt, pushing deeper from the thick intrusion. And so he responded, smacking your ass a couple more times just to hear a few more cries.

You’re just about high on Jaekyung, he’s everywhere near and close to you, overwhelming your senses and taking over your trembling frame. His delicious musk got stronger, not only from his just ended workout session, but from pounding into you with a beast-like pace.

‘Fuck fuck it hurts…s-slow down, mr Joo’

‘Shhh…you’ve been a pain in the ass lately, making demands and being a brat as you please’

He chomps your neck, finding a better angle to viciously prod your G-spot from behind. Your bladder almost crushed with his heavy shaft weighing on it for long hours.

‘Joo…I feel like..peeing, m-my tummy-‘ You dragged your nails down his back again, bouncing your ass up and down his dick.

'Make a mess then, piss, cum, squirt-' He licks your cheek and grunts, hips still slamming yours ‘I’m curious how more gross you could get tonight, nasty slut’

A furious heat rised to your face. His rough words fueled the wetness between your bruised thighs and squeezed your tiny butthole tighter.

'Aww…such a weak spot ya got for me, doc.' He huffed, his sharp jaw clenched tight. Your pussy clamped around the emptiness in shame, legs numbly dangling over his burly arms, and heart palpitating as you finally sprayed your juices all over his abdomen.

You gush more, covering is lower half in your essence, seconds before Jaekyung busts between you two. He keeps it up, milking you both to the last bit of your pleasures.

His warmth pours loads into you, shaping your pussy walls to fit his dick once more.

‘I liked it so so much…mr Joo felt s-so good’

You panted, the wild orgasm lagging on your little head. The following minutes you spent cradled in his arms, legs folded around his sides and head resting heavy on his chest.

He held you closer for a moment and and you didn’t miss another chance. you nervously planted your lips on his own, feeling them instantly push back on yours…

his short embrace stopped time, blocked all your senses and swelled your little heart with euphoria. You felt so complete, almost as if you had a…lover..

————

You woke up to a bold fraguance filling the room. The joint white covered beds surrounded you, soft and empty. And so felt your heart, fragile and addicted to the champion fighter.

𝟐𝐤 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 −> 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟒

𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 :)

#joo jaekyung #joo jaekyung x reader #jinx manhwa #jinx mingwa #jinx #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut