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day0walker · 1 year

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benji/xavier and the inevitable end of something :)

He collides into Sergeant Tillman with enough force it almost knocks both of them to the ground.

“Christ! Baby! Fuck!” The older mercenary has a hand around his bicep, gripping him hard. Keeping him upright, because his legs aren’t working properly. Burning, with pain from the way he’d been running. Like a coward. He’d been running. Away from—away from…

Don’t call me that, Xavier thinks, but can’t say. His tongue feels numb, his jaw unhinged and his bloody hands scrambling over Tillman’s tactical vest. He grips into it hard as his arms vibrate, as his shoulders shake—his whole fucking body’s doing it. Head to fucking steel toe and he can’t control it. Feels outside himself, distant and above and untethered ad scared.

“This your blood? You injured, operator?” He gets patted down, hands crawling over him and making Xavier nauseas. Not just—he throws up, Tillman immediately backing away from him with raised palms. Xavier’s entire stomach empties, one hand gripping into his old rib injury as he does. Shoulders heaving with the effort as water and MRE spills out of him. He stumbles toward a tree, bracing against it as he breathes. As he tries to breathe.

“N-Not mine,” he whispers out. “Not mine.”

“Where’s Wilson?”

“Blood,” he whispers again, “not mine.”

The woods come alive with birds, a flock of them lifting up into the air and calling out loudly as they slide through the dull sky. Xavier’s eyes lift up toward them, dizzy as spit runs down his chin. His bloody hand sticks to the tree bark as Tillman approaches once more. He still has his rifle. Slung across him, easy access and for some reason, he thinks about pointing it at his sergeants chest.

Thinks about pulling the trigger.

Instead, Xavier looks up at him and his face crumples. He cries boyishly, with pinched brows, open mouth as he gestures to the blood on himself. Help me, he wants to ask. Please.

“Not mine,” he repeats.

Tillman presses his comms on his shoulder and barks an order for retreat, “Baby’s not alright. Pulling back with Unit Two.”

—

Lark visits him in medical, even though he’s not really hurt at all.

They’d cleared him, but he doesn’t move from the gurney, even hours later. A medic had cut through the outer layer of his tactical gear and it had been so stiff with blood, it had crunched when it was removed. Had made Xavier laugh, so wildly and so loudly that the medic had slipped a hand over his mouth. Stared at him with big, sad, almost knowing eyes. Xavier had let himself be examined in silence after that.

No head wounds, no broken bones, no hidden cuts. All the blood had been from—been from—

He sits there, with his still red hands dangling between his knees. Lark stands in front of him. And Xavier wants to tell him, you and Benji are the same height. He feels a hand slip into his hair and it makes his bare shoulders hunch up hard. He tilts his head, back and forth, feeling Lark’s fingers move through his dirty hair. Blood build up, sweat, dirt and grime. You are the same height as Benji, he imagines himself saying.

Just to say his name out loud. Are the same height, are because still. Because Benji survived that—Benji survived that, he did.

A cavern opens in his chest. It cracks open inside him and yawns, large and unfilled and screaming.

Xavier’s hand loops around Lark’s wrist and slips to hold his palm. He brings his friends knuckles to his forehead, bows forward as he holds it. Cannot look at him. Cannot withstand seeing someone he loves, right now, when he is still covered in the blood of someone else he…His shoulders hunch harder and harder as he feels himself sucking in desperate, painful breaths. His ribcage expands painfully, reminds him of the broken ribs he’d gotten saving this man. Of the hole inside him now.

“I need your help, Lark,” he whispers.

** SEVERAL MONTHS LATER **

“How much of this do I have to give you so you don’t tell anyone you saw me?”

Xavier spreads the notes across his palm, holding it out to the cabbie from the backseat. You give him a tenner? Benji’s smile fills him for a moment, blinding and warm and making his heart shiver and he tells himself, soon. So fucking soon. He can’t think of Benji yet; hasn’t really let himself, even when all he wants to think about is the medic. He has a ten mile walk after this.

They’re stopped in the middle of a road and the cabbie stares at him with tired, lazy eyes. Big bellied man, with thinning hair and a picture of his family tacked to the dashboard. A little girl that looks just as tired and lazy and a wife who looks, if possible, even more so. Xavier would really like to not have to resort to violence. Sighs with relief when he reaches over and takes everything out of Xavier’s hand. For a moment, he thinks to argue, but he’s too tired himself.

The plane ride had made him so nervous (sweat, pouring over him, so bad he thought the black hair powder he’d used to conceal his red was going to run, jumping every time the stewardess stopped to ask if he wanted a soda) that he has no more energy to spend. And there’s still the ten mile walk.

Instead, he mumbles a thank you and steps out the car. Slugs the giant duffle bag over his shoulder as he does and watches the cab slowly rumble down the dirt path. It’s just about to be night time, so he slings the maglight out from the bag. Clicks it a few times, feels the heft of it. Good weight—nice for breaking cheekbones, or jaws if he—Xavier shivers and turns to the woods.

No more violence. No more—we’re done with violence.

He’d been here, not that long ago. Had met Benji’s sister—who looked so much like him, looking at her had made him momentarily light headed. Had also, scoped out the trail he was going to take to that old, historical home tucked into the woods. Xavier needed something by foot—didn’t trust the cab to take him all the way there like the last time. He needed near total anonymity.

Because, no more violence from him. They, however—the Shadows, if they found him. If they traced him here. Xavier shivers, tucks his jacket around himself tighter. Then hefts the bag a little more, tries to space the weight over his shoulders evenly because the walks going to be agonizing.

—

“These will work, yeah.”

Xavier takes the manila folder, immediately tucks it underneath his arm, tries to obscure it. Nomi looks at it and then up to him before her eyes skitter away. This could get her killed, he realizes. If they figure out, this could get her worse than killed—and she’d done it for him. Had done it because Lark had asked her to, but also, this is really for him.

Could get Lark killed too. Could get his girlfriend killed. All of them killed. This folder filled with a fake passport, fake birth certificate, fake records of an Xavier that had never actually existed before. Or maybe one that would have existed, if he’d never joined this fucking company. His eye twitches a little, his hand running back through his hair.

“You’ve lost weight, love,” Nomi says quietly. He glances at her, his hand still in his hair as he does. She’s pointedly staring at his torso, instead of him, because she never looked him in the eyes. He swallows and drops his hand.

“Thanks for this.”

“Well, m’bit of a romantic underneath it all. Hope he’s worth it, s’all.”

He is, Xavier doesn’t say. Cannot even entertain it out loud, he’s so scared.

—

It’s real night by the time he gets to the house. The lights are on in the downstairs, little yellow windows that make him feel like he’s walking up to a dream. His shoulders burn, from the weight of the duffle. And his feet are aching—an ankle is rubbed raw and bleeding, but he hadn’t stopped walking to check on it. Had felt compelled only to move forward. Months of only moving forward. He looks at the windows, and he feels…He feels like…

He feels like he’s—he’s home and—

—

“You goin’ somewhere, Baby?”

Tillman’s voice makes his body flinch on reflex, all his muscles spasming like he’s touched a live wire. His throat bobs, his eyes lifting up at the man in the hallway.

You’re not being fucking subtle, Lark had told him, seething it in a whisper. You’re so fucking bad at subtle, he’d said with a hand in Xavier’s shirt, twisting it and holding him close. And Xavier knows. He has never, ever been good at hiding anything in his life. His face has displayed every emotion he’s ever felt. He’s tried, so hard, to make sure every plan he’s made in the last few weeks have been done as quietly, as secretively as possible.

Yet.

“No, sir,” Xavier laughs, leaning against the wall, that folder tucked between his body and arm and the bricks. “Was headin’ in for the night. Long day tomorrow.” He hasn’t been sleeping well. Nightmares. A lot of them. All of them a coalescence of blood and Benji’s curly black hair, and the rifle in his face, and that SAS soldier who let him go. Wilson, killing people and Lark’s missing teeth. His broken ribs. Tillman, when he’d told Xavier, you’re not special, kid.

The sergeant steps closer. Lifts a hand to run the back of his knuckles down Xavier’s sternum. They press in hard at the base and he sucks in a little breath. Those pale eyes assess him, cold and clinical.

Xavier’s hand slips up to brush over his hard forearm, tilt his head and smile. Took him weeks to get all of Benji’s blood off his cuticles. His fingerprints feel ingrained with that blood.

“C’mon, Till. I’m a good dog, gotta go to bed.”

Their shoulders crash together as Tillman walks by him. The folder burns against his ribs, that old injury a heartbeat throb inside him.

—

Xavier stands on the door steps. The key is in his hand. That little, beautiful gold thing. It’s replicated on his rib now, in a small, black outline. The only treat he’d offered himself during those long months of trying to find his way out the snakes pit. This one, promised, soon.

He fumbles the key, because his hand is shaking. Manages to catch it before it drops. Leans one hand on the door frame. Sweat had built up from the hike, but it’s cooled now from the night air, making him tremble. His ankle burns with the pain of his boot rubbing layers off his skin. His heart slams inside his chest, the giant crack inside him feeling deep and serrated and it howls. He wants to shove his hand in there to quiet it, to stop it’s screaming, because he’s right there. He is right there.

The lights are on. Benji is home.

Xavier shoves the key in, has to work it, because the door is old and it sticks a little until he’s pushing it open and stepping inside.

There’s foot steps, a terrible Liverpool accent going, “What the fuck?”

Benji is home.

The bag slides off Xavier’s shoulder. It lands with a heavy sound. The sounds of his boots are heavier as he crosses the hardwood floor.

“Xavier?”

His name is only half out Benji’s mouth before Xavier is cupping those warm cheeks and crashing down to him. Their mouths come together instantly. He feels Benji sway, stumble back before he also feels hands shooting into the fabric of his jacket. Feels them yanking, pulling, desperately holding. Xavier kisses Benji, so hard, their tongues finding each other—and they kiss like they have kissed a thousand times. Like their bodies are instantly remembering this. Where to hold each other, how to stand. How to place their bodies.

Xavier’s arm slings around Benji’s shoulders, brings him closer. Closer, closer. He pants between each movement of their faces, as they kiss with painful hunger. I have missed you so much it’s made a part of me split open and bleed. He hears the sound Benji makes when he is devoured like this and shivers bone deep. Cradles his skull with his hand, feels the brushing softness of his curls. I walked away from that clearing with no fucking injury, Benji, but I have been bleeding for days. I have been hurting without you.

They part, but only their mouths, because Xavier is still holding him. In his hands, real, alive, there. His nose touches Benji’s. He’s smiling, so wide, so hard that his cheeks hurt.

“I thought—” Benji starts.

“S’pose I’m interruptin’ something?”

Xavier blinks at Benji, those giant brown eyes up at him. I dreamed these eyes. Dreamed them every night. His head turns to the side slowly. In the living room—where just weeks ago, he’d laid on the floor, soaking in the sun and imagining those rays were Benji’s hands—Lieutenant Simon Riley stands.

A tether snaps loose inside Xavier. His hands drop and he steps back from the warmth of Benji’s body.

Ghost looks casually dressed. A short sleeve black shirt, acid washed jeans. He looks comfortable. There’s wrinkles on that shirt. It makes Xavier feel a ticking inside himself. Still has that stupid mask on, though. Pale white skull bone—Xavier’s fingertips twitch. He’s a hulkish presence that fills up the room. He walks forward, heavy sounding as he approaches. Xavier doesn’t move as he passes by him and picks up a jacket that’s slung across a chair.

I sat there. When I visited, I sat in that chair. And you interrupted then too. Didn’t you?

Benji has backed up as well, one hand tucked around his ribs, the other hand brushing up behind his neck. He’s staring at the ground, at neither of them, thick brows pinched together on his beautiful face.

“Thought you were a red head, Corporal.” Xavier looks up, that one inch difference in their height. His hand brushes up into his hair. The hair powder he’d borrowed from Matilda to tamp down his wild, fire color comes up slightly from the sweat.

“Temporary,” he mumbles, staring at his hand. It’s shaking. Or, his vision is going fuzzy. He can’t tell which.

The door opens and closes, but the heaviness of Ghost lingers there still.

Xavier thinks he should have been scared. That Simon Riley is an SAS soldier who is fully aware of who he is; who was definitely armed, who could take him, in hand to hand, easy. But instead of fear, there is a hot, burning painful sensation named anger crawling over his entire body. His shoulders tighten with it, his breathing coming hard and fast from his nose, his teeth ground together so hard, his fucked up canine almost cuts his lip.

“I thought you were dead,” Benji finally finishes the sentence. Xavier cannot stop his foot from crashing against the chair, sending it clattering backward against the wall. The sound is so loud in the deafening silence. His hands shoot into his hair, his head rolling back on his shoulders as he barks out a laugh that is furious and wet. He’s holding himself together, with his hands there. Holding himself from splitting apart.

“Oh, I fucking knew it—I fucking knew it,” he’s speaking to the ceiling because he can’t look at Benji when all he wants is to look at him. He wants to notice those mismatched socks. He wants to look at that threadbare shirt he has on, wants to see him dressed down and comfortable. Soft, in his home. But he looks at the ceiling. “I knew it,” he seethes in vindicated, poisonous fury.

“Knew fuckin’ what?” Benji snaps and Xavier is so thankful he can hear anger there. He needs anger. He can’t do this without anger, it is his only comfort from the screaming inside his heart.

“You and him—Christ, I knew it—but I thought—”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Xavier snaps forward, a hand to his own chest as he bears over Benji. He uses every inch of his height then, staring him down with his lips curled back over his teeth. But Benji doesn’t move back—is not intimidated in the fucking slightest. Tucks his chin down, stares back at him, in icy anger of his own. That hand on his neck squeezes hard and Xavier is thinking of it, wrapped around his bicep. Holding him—how it feels sliding across his side. His fucked up ribs feeling healed by that palm.

“Callin’ me stupid?” Xavier sneers. “Think I’m some fucking idiot?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Benji clips out, in such an even tone it makes all the hair on Xavier’s body stand. “I’d never fuckin’ say that—”

“So you thought I was dead and went on to just fuck your lieutenant?” He snarls it out so viciously, both his hands come up to flatten on the wall behind Benji. Trap him there, against the battering ram of his rage. And he regrets it, because for one moment the mans anger flares up from ice to pure acidic fury—he wants that, wants to see that anger pour out of Benji because he’s so angry it’s making every bone in his body hurt. It’s making him want to tear things to shreds. But that anger is replaced by something so desolate in Benji’s eyes that Xavier flinches back from it.

Something so pure in it’s pain flashes over Benji’s face, so wholly and utterly full of hurt that Xavier’s hands lift from the wall a few inches as they stare at each other. I’m sorry, Xavier thinks. I should take that back. I should stop. I’m so sorry.

But he’s remembering Tillman’s knuckles digging into the soft part underneath his sternum. Remembering Lark’s terrified face as he drops him off at the train station. Him saying, tell the medic I said hello in a funny, thick voice, like he might cry. Remembers thinking, I’ll come back and get you Lark, I’ll get you out too and I’ll tell Benji you said hello and tell him every single thing about you too.

And he can’t pause the train of his anger then, because he is so fucking hurt and he is also so fucking scared. And he has run off that fear for months trying to get to this little house in the woods, and it’s been ruined by Simon Riley.

“God, you smell like him.” It cracks out of Xavier, like it hurts and fuck it does. It hurts so deep, like a muscle bruise, like an old wound that didn’t heal right. Like it’s his rib all over again, cracking outward and he’s standing with it anyway, sitting up and walking around, a snapped in half wound. Irreparable fucking damage because Benji smells like him—and it doesn’t matter that Xavier doesn’t know what Simon fucking Riley smells like, it’s that Benji smells like someone else.

“You’re bein’ fuckin’ dramatic,” is how he replies, shoving himself out from under Xavier and into the living room.

I talked about you to Saha, for hours here. She told me funny stories about you, and I got to imagine what you looked like as a kid. Sullen. Melancholic and avoidant. Sweet. Before this all ruined both of us. I got to hug her and be held by her and think things would be okay.

“What are you being?” Xavier laughs, throwing a hand toward him as it comes out snarling and harsh. “Mature?”

“Not a jealous fuckin’ prick, that’s what I’m not bein’.”

“I’m not jealous!” He screams it, hands clawed and furious and gesturing with all the fucking anger of a city boy being threatened. Face red, spitting, bowing forward with his motions as he stomps into the living room. Closer. Feels the gravitational pull of Benji, even then. His body confused by all this fighting. His chest, wanting to be to Benji’s, even now. “I’m not jealous—I’m fucking angry! I’m fuckin’ angry, Benji!”

And he wants, so badly, to make him understand this. Because he isn’t—oh, fuck, he isn’t jealous. He wishes he was. It would be easier, wouldn’t it?

“You think I’m jealous—” He swallows down the word, passes over it, blinks rapidly to get his throat unstuck. “I can’t think of it—someone touching you. Knowing their hands are on you. They’d do it wrong.” His knuckles are white and covered in scars. They have minute fractures that have built up over the years. Breaking, and re-breaking your hands is one of the only ways MMA fighters get so good at throwing punches. They never stop hurting in the winter. It’s a reality for all fighters.

His hand fists into Benji’s shirt then, shivering. Trembling like a scared dog.

Benji’s chin is tilted up; his brown eyes all black from the dilation of his pupils. He breathes hard, like he’s been the one screaming, but he hasn’t. Benji’s anger meets Xavier’s in the middle—his fury is wintery. But he looks like there is something so wild behind that anger. Not pain again, but something else; like fear. Like what Xavier is saying is scary.

The living room smells wrong too. Like Ghost had been there for a while. Xavier’s hand tightens in the fabric of Benji’s shirt.

Do you wear this to bed? Do you sleep like how you slept in my apartment? On your side, tucked in tight? You’d sleep differently, if I slept with you. Because I wouldn’t let you sleep curled up. I’d make you sleep with your back to my chest, I’d make you let me hold you. I’d make you, Benji.

“Do you think about it?” he asks, his voice still shivering around the anger. “Do you think about why we haven’t yet? All the times we could have. Me here, or you at mine. All those fucking times, Benji.” Presses forward. Wants, so badly, to touch him without this slice of fabric. To feel him. “Do you think it means something?”

Benji’s head rolls back, so similar to how Xavier had looked away to avoid him. A mirroring of gestures. He’s sucking in air, hard. His hand slips up to his rib and Xavier remembers holding a hand there, while all his blood spilled out of him. Don’t hurt there forever, Benji. I know what that’s like and I can’t think of you, waking up to that pain. Not being able to run as hard, because of that pain.

“You come all the way out here to yell at me? Accuse me of fuckin’ someone and then ask me why—why we ‘aven’t—” He’s speaking to the ceiling. They are so close and yet neither look at each other. Xavier stares at that lingering hand on a wound he’d known as a hole in his side. Is it a scar? Did it heal badly? I wish I had been there, I should have been there. Benji stares at the ceiling, his chest heaving.

“I came here because I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Benji’s hand rises, cups under Xavier’s elbow. He feels it, through his jacket, through the shirt underneath that. He feels like his body would recognize that hand with his eyes closed, with every sense of him stripped but touch.

“The fuck are you sayin’, Xavier?” His voice is tight, held in his throat, punched out of him like he’s forcing every word. His head still hasn’t bowed forward. Xavier is looking at his throat, watching as it bobs. He steps back, but Benji’s hand tightens on his elbow. His hand gestures behind them, at the duffle bag on the floor.

Inside is everything he has owned in the last six years. It is a sad collection of clothes and a picture of a dead man—and the drum stick that he’d found one day, tucked inside his tac vest that has lived with him ever since.

He pictures himself saying it differently. Pictures himself saying, I spent every day for the last few months getting myself here. I have abandoned everything I have been since I was eighteen, because I wanted to be here. Because I am in love with you—because I wake up and think about you, because I go to sleep wanting you to be there. Because I was going to die as a Shadow, as some lowlife mercenary, I was going to make it a few more years and die bloody and unimportant. And you made me not wanna die, Benji, you made me want to be here. Because I think you love me too.

“I left,” is what he says instead, in a wavering, unsteady voice. “Left the Shadows, Benj.”

He looks back at the duffle bag. Feels Benji’s hand tighten harder and harder on his elbow.

“Don’t,” Benji whispers. His voice sounds thick and wet. Xavier feels crestfallen for a moment, feels that cavern in him mourning, wailing, longing to feel a soothing touch. His eyes tremble on that duffle bag. The only thing he’d been able to smuggle out. The only thing he even had. All of him fits in a duffle bag. “Don’t—Don’t lie to me. ‘Cause if you are—Xavier, if you’re lyin’—”

He snaps his head back and finds Benji staring at him, no longer leaned back to look at the ceiling. His eyes are wet, tears sliding down his face. His face is openly vulnerable in a way that makes Xavier’s heart sluice open. His hands grasp that face, unable to stop himself.

“No, I’m not. Benji, I’m not—I left, I did. I’m not going back.” He cries, in that shuddering way, that holding it barely together way. His hands clench into Xavier’s jacket, shaking furiously. He’s breathing in hard, fast. “For you. I fucking left for you.” Benji draws in a hard breath and—and the fight ends because it has to.

Xavier’s hand tucks behind Benji’s head and pulls him, holds him, close as he shrouds over the shorter man. He tucks himself around him, long arms enveloping. Feels Benji cry with his entire body; this giant wellspring of painful, overwhelming relief. Xavier’s face buries into those black curls, his lips brushing across the crown of his head.

He means to say, I did it for you and instead he says, “I love you.”

#xavier x benji #original writing #phew

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unknownjpegs · 3 months

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home

He collides into Sergeant Tillman with enough force it almost knocks both of them to the ground.

“N-Not mine,” he whispers out. “Not mine.”

“Where’s Wilson?”

“Blood,” he whispers again, “not mine.”

Thinks about pulling the trigger.

Instead, Xavier looks up at him and his face crumples. He cries boyishly, with pinched brows, open mouth as he gestures to the blood on himself. Help me, he wants to ask. Please.

“Not mine,” he repeats.

Tillman presses his comms on his shoulder and barks an order for retreat, “Baby’s not alright. Pulling back with Unit Two.”

—

Lark visits him in medical, even though he’s not really hurt at all.

No head wounds, no broken bones, no hidden cuts. All the blood had been from—been from—

Just to say his name out loud. Are the same height, are because still. Because Benji survived that—Benji survived that, he did.

A cavern opens in his chest. It cracks open inside him and yawns, large and unfilled and screaming.

“I need your help, Lark,” he whispers.

** SEVERAL MONTHS LATER **

“How much of this do I have to give you so you don’t tell anyone you saw me?”

No more violence. No more—we’re done with violence.

—

“These will work, yeah.”

“Thanks for this.”

“Well, m’bit of a romantic underneath it all. Hope he’s worth it, s’all.”

He is, Xavier doesn’t say. Cannot even entertain it out loud, he’s so scared.

—

He feels like he’s—he’s home and—

—

“You goin’ somewhere, Baby?”

Tillman’s voice makes his body flinch on reflex, all his muscles spasming like he’s touched a live wire. His throat bobs, his eyes lifting up at the man in the hallway.

Yet.

Xavier’s hand slips up to brush over his hard forearm, tilt his head and smile. Took him weeks to get all of Benji’s blood off his cuticles. His fingerprints feel ingrained with that blood.

“C’mon, Till. I’m a good dog, gotta go to bed.”

Their shoulders crash together as Tillman walks by him. The folder burns against his ribs, that old injury a heartbeat throb inside him.

—

The lights are on. Benji is home.

Xavier shoves the key in, has to work it, because the door is old and it sticks a little until he’s pushing it open and stepping inside.

There’s foot steps, a terrible Liverpool accent going, “What the fuck?”

Benji is home.

The bag slides off Xavier’s shoulder. It lands with a heavy sound. The sounds of his boots are heavier as he crosses the hardwood floor.

“Xavier?”

They part, but only their mouths, because Xavier is still holding him. In his hands, real, alive, there. His nose touches Benji’s. He’s smiling, so wide, so hard that his cheeks hurt.

“I thought—” Benji starts.

“S’pose I’m interruptin’ something?”

A tether snaps loose inside Xavier. His hands drop and he steps back from the warmth of Benji’s body.

I sat there. When I visited, I sat in that chair. And you interrupted then too. Didn’t you?

“Temporary,” he mumbles, staring at his hand. It’s shaking. Or, his vision is going fuzzy. He can’t tell which.

The door opens and closes, but the heaviness of Ghost lingers there still.

“Knew fuckin’ what?” Benji snaps and Xavier is so thankful he can hear anger there. He needs anger. He can’t do this without anger, it is his only comfort from the screaming inside his heart.

“You and him—Christ, I knew it—but I thought—”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Callin’ me stupid?” Xavier sneers. “Think I’m some fucking idiot?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Benji clips out, in such an even tone it makes all the hair on Xavier’s body stand. “I’d never fuckin’ say that—”

“You’re bein’ fuckin’ dramatic,” is how he replies, shoving himself out from under Xavier and into the living room.

“What are you being?” Xavier laughs, throwing a hand toward him as it comes out snarling and harsh. “Mature?”

“Not a jealous fuckin’ prick, that’s what I’m not bein’.”

And he wants, so badly, to make him understand this. Because he isn’t—oh, fuck, he isn’t jealous. He wishes he was. It would be easier, wouldn’t it?

His hand fists into Benji’s shirt then, shivering. Trembling like a scared dog.

The living room smells wrong too. Like Ghost had been there for a while. Xavier’s hand tightens in the fabric of Benji’s shirt.

“I came here because I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I left,” is what he says instead, in a wavering, unsteady voice. “Left the Shadows, Benj.”

He looks back at the duffle bag. Feels Benji’s hand tighten harder and harder on his elbow.

He means to say, I did it for you and instead he says, “I love you.”

#writing #core au #hj #2023 #xw #bp #bp x xw

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sukirichi · 3 years

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thinking about uptight! naoya who never considered physical affection as a love language until he met you. growing up pampered with servants who bathed him, dressed him from head to toe, and spoon-fed him until he’d learned to do it himself – he was not a stranger to being touched and surrounded by others, but completely alien with this strange need to have you close by his side.

did it start on the first date?

the first dinner where he introduced you to his family, his protective instincts kicking in when his hypercritical relatives set their piercing stares into you, his hand itching to find yours under the table to give you a reassuring squeeze? or could it have started long before that, starting from the day he laid his eyes on you? and how stunning you were, completely unaware and naive as you strolled through the zen’in estate behind your parents for a visit, too lost in your own world to notice a certain someone’s adoring gaze on you behind the paper screens...

thinking about uptight! naoya who looked forward to your frequent visitations to ally with his family. how he’d stay in the tub for an hour longer than usual, his eyes narrowed at his reflection to inspect and nitpick every little flaw you might notice – but of course, naoya didn’t really think he had a flaw.

he just wanted to be undeniably handsome in front of you.

thinking about uptight! naoya who waltzed out into the greeting lobby prepared to woo your heart into the palm of his hands when your sock-clad feet slipped under you, his arms making their way to catch your body before you fell. you gripped at his bicep then, eyes wide with gratitude and a hint of affection you’d quickly masked. he was the zen’in heir, after all, and you’d heard nothing but negative claims about this man no less than scorned.

until he proved you wrong, because uptight! naoya was surprisingly gentle when he helped you regain your balance, his breath warm and minty when it fanned across your warm cheeks.

thinking about uptight! naoya who fist pumped in the privacy of his room when you finally agreed to go out with him. how he wouldn’t stop tugging at his collar from the sweat making his clothes stick, his hand tingling with this suppressed urge to just tug at your wrist and loop your fingers through his. which he did, after a steady mantra chanted for a solid minute.

you can do this, just hold her hand, you’re a man for fuck’s sake, you’re no longer a nervous, little schoolboy fidgeting around his crush. except he was, and you noticed.

just this once, he thought to himself, he’d let your teasing smile hidden by your shoulder slip, but only because you’d softened his unmoving heart with the fact he was the one who caused that beautiful smile he wanted to be imprinted until his last breath.

thinking about uptight! naoya who’d kissed women more than his fingers could count but wouldn’t stop shaking when your lips were a hairsbreadth away from him. the weight of you on his lap doing nothing but spurning his mind into an utter mess under you, his arms heavy with a debate on whether he could touch you or not. all it took was one kiss initiated by your curious, innocent lips pressing against his in a slow, romantic dance before his hands were on your hip, guiding you to lean harder into him and for your chests to flush together out of defiance to this thing called space. oh, naoya has never hated a concept much more than that.

and thinking about a lovesick! naoya who holds you in his arms the entire night, his long fingers caressing the hair out of your eyes, and his heartbeat lulled at the mere sight of you in peaceful slumber.

thinking about a lovesick! naoya who tangles your legs together and kisses your forehead before he whispers good night. a lovesick! naoya who realizes then and there that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do just to stay with you right there.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin #naoya zenin x reader fluff #naoya x reader fluff #naoya x reader scenarios #naoya x reader imagines #naoya zenin x reader scenarios #naoya zenin x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x reader scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #naoya zenin imagines #naoya zenin scenarios #naoya zenin fluff #LMAO naoya zenin AND the tag fluff? yes i love #🦊 : naoya zen’in #naoya zenin x fem reader

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whoreshijima · 3 years

Text

Ushijima with a chubby reader

CW// chubby reader (obvs) fem! Reader, fam receiving oral and masturbation, unprotected sex, slight choking, breeding, daddy kink, nude sending, groping, swearing

This is completely self indulgent I’m not even sorry

Ushijima loves to lay his head on your chest, nuzzling into the soft flesh of your boobs. He says it’s comforting. Comforting how warm they can get, how he can hear your heartbeat against his ear. As soon as he’s home he’s crawling between your legs to lay on top of you and press his face between them, a long groan leaving his mouth as he relaxes.

In the evenings when you’re watching TV, cuddling close together. His hands always find your way to your thighs, groping and massaging the flesh that’s bare, hiding under one of his large t-shirts that you love wearing. He loves how mailable the skin is, how when he pressed into it, he can see where his fingers have been, where they’ve pressed and traced patterns.

Skipping out in a Skirt and thigh highs, his eyes widen, at how over the top of the socks, the skin bulges, flowing over the rim of the fabric. He sees the way it rolls down your thighs, even after hoisting them back up a couple of times, they still roll down. But he’s quick to grab your hand, pulling you to sit in his lap as he kisses your neck. Gentle kisses and bites soothing any insecurities you may have.

“You know, I love when you wear those thigh highs. Make you look so sexy...” he mutters against your neck, vibrations of his deep voice making you shiver.

“I need to go change them, they keep rolling down”you pout and wiggle out of his grip. But you’re being pulled back down as he lays against the couch.

“Baby you might as well ride my face if they’re falling down” and you do, grinding your wet folds agaisnt his lips. Constant sucking and spitting on your swollen clit, as eats you out. It’s messy and you don’t think he can breathe but everytime you go to give him a break, he pulls you back down, hands planted firmly on the flesh of your thighs, moulding it to his large fingers. He loves the feeling of being suffocated by your legs, he wants more, he craves the feeling of it everyday. He loves that when you cum, you tighten your legs around his ears and for second he thinks he’s gonna black out from the lack of air but he wants this feeling, there’s nothing better.

He hates checking his phone at training, he knows you like to tease him with nudes. Nudes where you have pretty Lacey lingerie on, covering all the soft parts about you, how when he zooms in he can see your nipples poking through the lace atop your breast. Or how you tease him with the shape of your ass under cotton, ready for him to grab and squeeze as he fucks into you. Sometimes even sending a picture of you sitting on a dildo, showing him how you take it all, just like you’ll take his cock, hands rubbing desperately at your clit as you gush around the silicone.

He rushes home that night, thinking about burying himself inside you, pressing your face into the mattress so he can make you cry out of pleasure. And he does, as soon as he sees you he’s on you, surrounding you with the presence of him and only him. Pinning you against the wall to kiss you deeply, large hand finding it’s way to your throat to squeeze. You can’t help the lewd moan that leaves your mouth, and it’s over for you, being dragged to the nearest soft surface he can find.

“Think you can just tease me like that? And get away with it? Oh no no... face down, ass up princess” and you have to oblige, shaking your ass in his direction as he strips, cock hard and heavy pressing against his boxers.

Feeling around the surface of your ass he kisses it, licking it and biting it as he riles you up, making you drip for him so when he finally, finally, slides two fingers inside you it’s easy. Easier from all the slick you’ve produced to curl his fingers and scissor you open, bite marks being left all over the skin of your thighs and ass. But he can’t take it anymore, all he can think of is being buried inside you, all of him being swallowed and sucked in as he thrusts into you.

A low growl leaves his mouth when he first pushes in, he drops his head forward and takes a deep breath. It’s too much, how harm and tight you are around his throbbing cock. But it doesn’t deter him from leaning forwards to press against you, biceps wrapping around your middle as he grabs a handful of your boobs. The fat splays out around his fingers, overflowing his hands and he loves how they bounce with every thrust of his hips. The sound of the headboard of your bed mixes with your squeals and moans of pleasure.

And ushijima is totally lost in pleasure, the only focus on his mind is breeding. Breed breed breed. Rutting his hips into yours, each slap of his heavy balls against your clit makes you see stars, clutching onto the bedsheets as he goes impossibly harder. He’s not afraid to break you, using the grip he’s got on your chest as leverage to go harder. It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming, a white ring of cum around the base of his cock as he works you through it.

“Fuck princess, feel so good when you cum around me, do it again. Cum for me again, please, I love it, need more, please”

And he’s a man lost to pleasure, flipping you over under his brute strength and pinning your knees to your chest. His hands and fingers find the way to the back of your thighs, grabbing and gripping them as he pushes back in. This angle he pushes impossibly deeper, his red leaking cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust. Pulling his shaft along the spongey spot inside of you that’s been abused to hell and back tonight, but the way his thumb rubs against your clit pulls another orgasm out of you. One that makes you cry out his name and grab onto anything you can, writhing around under his strong grip.

He’s really fucked you dumb on his cock by the way you’re begging for his cum, to breed you.

“Please daddy, need it, cum ‘n me, want it... please daddy please” and his eyes meet yours, glassy and teary as his hips stutter, finally cumming deep inside you, growling and grunting into your calve, biting the soft flesh to ground himself. Eventually he pulls out, sweaty and muscles bulging. His hair sticks to his forehead slightly, chest glistening with sweat.

He stares. Stares at how his cum drips out of your swollen cunt, down your thighs and ass, scooping it up with hot fingers to push it back inside of you. He loves how he can lay completely on top of you, snuggling into your soft body as you both catch your breath, laughing quietly about what just happened.

His hands wander around your skin, featherlight touches turning into massages of any sore spots, fingers digging in and out of any dips and bumps your body might have and he thinks in this moment, he’s never found you more beautiful. And that’s why he’s on top of you again, it’s gonna be a long night.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #Ushijima x reader #ushijima x yn #Ushijima smut #Ushijima Wakatoshi smut #Haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq ushijima

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faeryloki · 3 years

Text

𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 ♢ 𝐩. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ➸ 1.8k 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ➸ fratboy!peter parker x lighter skinned!reader ; “I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.” 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ➸ SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI…. public(ish) sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, dry humping, fingering, teasing, wall sex, counter sex (if i missed anything, please let me know)

𝘢/𝘯 ➸ so i tried to be inclusive but this does deal with the reader having a lighter skin tone where hickeys can be shown :(( im sorry to all those who cant read this,

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

the music was muffled, the thickness of the walls, which stopped the sounds of the party going on outside from filling the bathroom, surprising you as his lips moved up and down your neck, sucking lightly. you knew that it wouldn’t leave a mark, too engulfed in the feeling of peter’s lips trailing back up to yours, a small whimper sounding into his mouth as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

his lips pecked yours, repeating his past actions and connecting with your neck yet again, sucking harder, “hey, no marks, petey.” he chuckled against your shoulder, reluctantly pulling away before he spoke.

“hi,” he whispered, the tension in the room impalpable, the feeling of your panties sticking to you from under your dress making the position you were in uncomfortable. your legs wrapped around his waist, his very noticeable hard-on felt against your heat as his hands rested on your waist, holding you up against the wall.

you reached your head towards him, hoping your lips would meet his in a heated state of want. a whine escaping your lips as he pulled his head back slightly, smirking at your pouted lips.

“say ‘hi’ back, baby,” he said cockily, waiting for you to murmur the word he wanted but all he got in return was a shake of your head, “really? not gonna say hi back to your boyfriend?”

“hiya peetey,” you whispered, still in a pout as he smiled, pecking your lips. you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling in your spot and advertently grinding right onto his erection.

he dropped his head against your shoulder, pushing your hips against his, voice raspy as he spoke into your neck, “oh, baby, you know i could easily get off just doing this, grinding this wet little pussy against me, making myself feel good and leaving you all high and dry….well, high and wet.”

“no, peteyyy,” you whined, trying to stop his hands from moving your hips but ultimately failing against his strength.

he chuckled, “im joking, baby, you know i’d never do that to you, you get all cut when you’re needy but leaving you all dripping makes you a brat.”

your words caught in your throat, as he ground your hips into him, his mouth attached to your neck as his length caught on your clit, a moan escaping your throat as he continued his grinding, chuckling into your neck as the pathetic whines and moans that sounded in the hot bathroom.

“what baby? what do you want? gonna have to tell me or i wont do anything,” he teased, ending is words with a particularly hard grind causing moans to escape your lips. flashes of past events of his cock filling you up and making you cum so hard you were screaming, your eyelids heavy with lust as hes nipped at your neck, the same teeth he’s use to nip the inside of your thighs, working his way to your dripping core, thoughts of his tongue working your needy clit filling every inch in your mind.

you mumbled out a ‘please’, the feeling of his hard-on hitting your sensitive nub with every movement of his hips making your head filled with lust as he smirked into your neck.

“please what, baby? gonna need more than that,” he voiced, moving you from the wall and placing you onto the counter, kissing his way to your collar bone as his hands worked at your dress zipper, your body slumped against his.

pulling down your dress further, exposing your shoulders fully as he continued leave sloppy kisses on your skin, eyes darkening as he pulled away, holding your head in his hands and smashing his lips to yours. the kiss was heated, body ablaze with want as he pulled at your bottom lip, pulling away.

“please, petey, want you, please,” you whined, tugging at his shirt to pull it off, wanting to feel his skin against yours.

“oh, baby, i know,” he said in a mocking pouty voice, letting out a laugh when you whined, letting you pull off his shirt, “look so pretty all need, babe, love seeing those lips all pouty for me and my cock.”

his voice grew lower with every word, hands cupping your face as smirked, tracing your skin gently and moving down your arm, a ticklish feeling being left in the wake of his hands before he scrunched up the bottom of you dress, tracing the outline of the lace panties as he smiled to himself.

“d’you wear these for me, pretty girl?” he asked, admiring and tracing the small lace pattern that settled on your hip wrapping around your entire waist.

you nodded, dropping your head against his shoulder and sighing as he traced the thin crotch patch that was soaked. spreading your thighs apart further and standing in between them he slid the small material to the side, collecting your dripping arousal.

he kissed the top of your head, petting your hair as he circled your entrance, whimpers and whines escaping your lips as he pressed a finger in, “so wet, baby. you this wet for me? huh? you dripping all over the counter because of a little kissing?”

you whimpered against his shoulder, “fuck- yes petey, all for you, please- fuck- please petey.”

“huh, baby? couldnt hear you,” he mocked, hand playing with the top of your dress as he slowly pumped his finger in and out, palm applying the slightest pressure to your clit with every movement and flex of his long digit.

“please, petey, please- want more, please,” you moaned, gripping onto the hem of his pants as he added a second finger, whining when his thumb came up and rubbed small circles into your clit.

“like this, baby? wanna cum on my fingers?”

“fuck- yes- please peter- please,” you moaned, gripping onto his bare bicep as his fingers worked you faster, moans falling from your lips with every repetitive motion of his hand.

he smirked at your lust driven state, feeling your warm walls clench around his fingers as you drew close to your release, begging for him to make you cum as his fingers curled slightly to hit that pleasure filled spot.

“you do, baby?” he asked, a sarcastic tone lacing his words, “gonna soak my fingers? you gonna make a mess while anyone can walk by and hear those pretty moans coming from that pretty mouth of yours, huh?”

“yes- please, petey, wanna cum, please,” you whined, burying your head in his neck as you moaned, trying to muffle the sinful sounds that filled the room, “please, fuck- petey, please.”

every moan that left your lips only spurred him on, encouraging to make you moan so loud, even the fraternity tainted bathroom would seem like heaven, he wanted those sinful sounds to never stop.

his other hand snaked its way up to the back of your neck, pulling on the hair and bring your eyes to meet his, “then fucking cum.”

the waves of pleasure washed over you. his fingers continued their pace, letting you ride out your orgasm. the once cold marble counter now warm and the air that smelt of beer and sweat now reeked of sex.

he didnt stop the pleasurable abuse on your cunt, continuing to pump as his thumb slowed but never stopped. the pleasure still settled at the pit of your stomach but never building, staying an annoying tension caused by your overstimulation that had you mewling into the crook of his shoulder.

“sorry, baby, gotta make sure this pretty pussy’s gonna be ready for my cock, wanna get you all nice and ready to take every. last. inch.” he pronounced each word with a hard pump of his fingers and a circle of your clit, smirking at your fucked out state.

he pulled his hand away from you, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking them clean, his eyes rolling back and a moan escaping his throat at the taste, “fuck, baby, might just have to have a taste of you later.”

he tugged at his pants, pulling them down enough to reveal his boxers, the calvin klein logo which was printed onto the waist band of his pants. the black letter disappearing as he tugged his boxers down after, the fabric now scrunched with his jeans as he grabbed your hips pulling you to the edge of the counter,

he fisted his length pumping up and down collecting the droplets of precum that surfaced, using it as a form of lubricant as he tugged your lace panties to the side again, aligning himself and teasing your dripping lips.

“want this, baby?” he asked, inserting the head of his cock slowly before pulling out, repeating the same movements over and over, whines of want falling from your lips with every shallow thrust.

“yes- fuck- please, petey, want it so bad,” you grabbed his bicep, an involuntary moan sounding as he pushed further into you, his grunt of pleasure making his chest, where your head rested, vibrate. he slowly pumped in and out, going deeper and deeper with every movement of his hips.

your warm walls enveloped him, the feeling euphoric in his mind as he held back, hands griping your hips in a bruising pace, as his lips met back with the skin of your neck, sucking hard and muffling his moans as he sped up, taking note of the way your moans and whines grew louder when his teeth skimmed your collar bone, shivers running down your spine as goosebumps rose on your skin.

“fuck, sweetheart, squeezing my cock so much, feels so good,” his moans mixed with yours, the familiar tension building back up in your stomach as his hand came between you, toying with your clit as you clenched down around him.

“petey, fuck- youre so big, gonna cum, please,” you whined, eyes shutting as he brought his hand up to your throat.

“look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby,” he groaned out, “but, i feel like i could make this cute little kitty cum harder”

pulling out and pressing your front up against the wall, he pushed back in with a groan. the new position had you gripping onto his forearm. the veins in his hand bulging as you felt his cock throb in you.

sucking and kissing your neck, his eyes shut, moans leaving his mouth as he rested his head against the back of yours. his hips snapping into you as pleaded, “please- fuck- please petey- tell me you’re close- please.”

“squeezing me so much, baby, how- fuck- how could i not be close?” he asked, smirking and chuckling, a groan interrupting him as his hips stuttered, “fuck, baby, come on, cum on my cock, make me cum with that pretty pussy.”

you let out a scream, nails digging into him as you let go. your walls pulsed around him as he filled you up. groaning into your neck as he sucked and kissed the exposed skin, smiling into you as he stayed there.

you whined, “p-petey, so full, love you so much.”

“i know, baby, i love you too,” he pulled out, turning you around and kissing you , hand reaching for a small towel on the shelf to the side of you. he pulled away, smiling as he faced the sink, turning the water on and letting his fingers be soaked by the falling water, waiting for its warmth.

you looked into the mirror, face dropping as you saw the hickeys that traced your neck, “peter fucking parker.”

he looked up at you, a smirk playing at his face as he looked at the dark bruises that were scattered across your skin, “yes, baby?”

“i said no marks,” you pouted, his chuckle sounding in the room as he soaked the rag, moving back in front of you and pressing the towel in between your thighs, wiping softly.

“I won’t apologize for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.”

you let out a whimper as he nudged your sensitive clit, he grabbed your lace panties from the floor, kneeling and directing you feet to pull the panties up, patting you panties in place, the small and simple slaps making you feel the cum that started to slip out of you.

“so pretty, baby,” he complimented, fixing your dress and placing a kiss to your shoulder as he pulled the strap back up. he fixed his appearance, playing with his hair before you rolled your eyes, pulling his hand away and doing it for him.

“there, now you look just as handsome as before,” you giggled, pulling him to peck his lips as your knees wobbled a bit.

his hands rested at your waist, as he pulled you, “lets get back out there, baby, gotta keep up appearances, now dont we?”

he grabbed your hand, unlocking the door and leading you out back into the party, dancing slightly to the music he twirled you, your hips swaying to the beat as you giggled, lost in the moment of dancing with peter, the music no longer muffled and your eyes set on his.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

*taglist coming soon*

#♢ peter parker ! ♢#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x y/n smut #peter parker x you #peter parker x you smut

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smileyoongle · 3 years

Text

Falling for a lounge singer (Yandere!Mafia! BTS)// Kim Taehyung

Requested anonymously.

Summary: Working as a part time singer, you never thought you'd find yourself becoming the centre of attention of a man's life, especially one who you can't run from.

Word Count: 2.5K

The city was laid out brightly before you, cool wind making your hair stick to your glossy lips as you rested your elbows on the railing of the rooftop. Working for hours amidst people who were rich and liked to show off was stressful, especially when you knew you didn't fit in between them. If it wasn't for your voice, no one would even give you a second glance but there you were, attracting loud applauds every time you held the mic. It made you feel almost cocky but your conscience didn't allow it, reminding you of your place in this world time and time again.

With a soft sigh, you stared at the pretty sky, the stars scattered across it twinkling to grab your attention yet failing to do so. Because even though you loved the peace and quiet, your mind was restlessly loud tonight. Loud with thoughts about a man you had seen too many times, but never had the pleasure of meeting. A man who had sent you a single white freesia every night before disappearing without a word.

But tonight was different. Because he wasn't here. In fact, he hadn't been here for the last three days and if you were being honest, you missed him.

You missed his dark eyes that gazed at you with so much fervour that it made you dizzy. You missed how his attention made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You missed how he was so mysterious that you had convinced yourself to approach him. Yet, he managed to really slip away this time.

Glancing at the dried freesia in your hand, you traced it's dead petals, barely hanging on as the rest of it began to fall apart. This was the last one you had found near your vanity, not having seen another since he disappeared.

"Where did you go?" You mumbled, twirling the stem between your fingers, being as gentle as you could. There was no way for you to know if you'd ever see him again because every time you asked the staff about him, they just brushed you off by saying how some things were better left unknown. It made you wonder what was so bad about him that no one was willing to say a word.

"I'm right here, petal."

A deep voice stated from behind you, your heels quickly making you turn around to see who it was but the darkness and the distance between you two made it hard for you to tell. You frowned, watching the man's silhouette move closer to you, your fingers tightly holding onto your flower. And as soon as your eyes took in his face, your lips fell apart in a silent gasp.

There he was, looking at you with the same passion that his eyes held every time you saw him. You could feel your heart lose its rhythm, pounding erratically in your chest making you almost breathless. He was a lot more beautiful up close, your mind not having prepared you for seeing him here at all. Upon seeing you so speechless, he let out a low chuckle, one of his hands curled behind his back as his fitted black shirt hugged his biceps perfectly.

"Is this my punishment for having left you alone? You refuse to talk to me?" He asked, tilting his head to study your expression better. You remained silent, still processing the fact that the man you were so desperately looking for, was now standing so close to you. A part of you wanted to tell him that you could never be mad at him when he looked like an angel but your tongue stayed tied.

He hummed at your silence, taking another step towards, his eyes glancing at the dead flower that stayed intact between your fingers. Slowly, you felt his hand hold your wrist, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. Bringing it up, he took away the flower, throwing it somewhere to the side only to present another freesia before you, this one a striking red that made your heart skip a beat. You held onto its stalk as your mystery man placed it between your fingers, your cheeks growing warm at the way his eyes stayed fixated on your face.

“Red?” You asked, returning his gaze with an equally feverish one, his lips morphing into a smile upon hearing your voice.

“And she speaks.” He laughed lowly, his deep melody echoing in the silence of the night. Taking yet another step towards you, he placed his hands on the railing behind you, trapping you in close proximity. Your back rested firmly against the bars, your chest almost touching his.

“Yes, petal. Red. Do you know what it means?” He murmured, only loud enough for you to hear. Lost in his eyes, you didn’t notice the hand that was now tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips being the sole focus of the man’s attention. Resting his palm against your cheek, you found yourself leaning into his warmth, sighing at the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

“No,” you answered, closing your eyes when you saw him lean down until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. His long fingers brushed your hair away from your neck, your own hand clutching the flower tightly to calm your heart that was about to jump out of your chest.

“It symbolizes passion,” he whispered, his hands moving down to hold your waist and pull you flush against him. Speechless, you rested your hands on his chest, biting your lip as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“Who are you?” You inquired, finally asking the question that had been gnawing at you ever since you saw him. A dead silence fell over the both of you all of a sudden, a frown etching onto your forehead as you were made to pull away from him a little. You found yourself missing his embrace, feeling as though you had known him for a long long time.

“You don’t know me,” he said, more like telling himself again rather than asking you. Gently shaking your head, you placed your gaze on his chest, a peek of white bandages catching your eye from beneath the few buttons that were left open at the top of his shirt. Without a thought, you moved it a little to the side, your eyes widening at the small red patch that stained the centre of the dressing, your lips parting in shock at the realisation that it was, indeed, blood.

“What happened?” You asked, worry and concern lacing your voice. He pursed his lips, his jaw clenching ever so lightly along with his hold on your waist which grew tighter. Wincing in pain, you looked at him in confusion, wondering if you had said something to upset him. And before you could ask him, he said something that perished all the warm feelings that had been brewing in your chest lately.

“My name is Kim Taehyung, Y/N. And I’ll be really mad if you decide to run away now.”

With eyes as wide as they could be, you stood frozen in his arms, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Fear consumed your entire being, your throat running dry at the very thought of being here with Kim Taehyung, the man who was responsible for the rise of one of the biggest cartels in the world. His hands were stained with the blood of god knows how many people, the wound on his chest suddenly making a lot of sense. Losing your grip on his shirt, you let your arms fall to your sides, unmoving and unable to process the situation anymore.

Suddenly, you were aware of his burning touch all over you, your mind screaming at you to get away from him. Yet you didn’t make a move, because you knew very well that you were almost nothing in front of a trained killer who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye. Parting your lips, you willed yourself to scream as loud as you could, failing yet again with his icy glare staring you down.

Gone were all the emotions you had witnessed in his eyes a few minutes ago, making you feel as if this was a whole new man that you had never met before. A tear ran down your cheek, your brain slowly hitting you with the mixed amount of emotions that were driving you insane. You were hurt, scared, disappointed in yourself and a lot more you couldn’t yet place a finger on.

“Y/N,” his voice brought you back to him, wary of the hand that was now wiping away your tears. Eyeing him cautiously, you tried to think fast, escaping him being the only agenda on your mind right now.

Taehyung knew what you were thinking, it didn't take a genius to know that all you wanted was to run away from him before things became a mess. But it was too late now, your innocence having left Taehyung mesmerized a long time ago. And now that you were so close to him, he was ready to do anything to make you stay.

"I don't wanna die," you said, your voice wavering with the dying confidence that burnt in you like a flickering flame. Being in his arms felt good, but knowing that those hands could also push you off the roof without anyone finding out was a thought that overcame everything else.

"And you won't, petal. Just because I'm a dangerous man, doesn't mean I would lay a finger on you," he answered, quickly catching onto the fact that you thought of him as a killer. It hurt him to know that you so easily forgot every other feeling you had been sheltering all this time, his identity crumbling down to nothing in your mind. But he would fix it.

He would fix you.

His words were enough to let you know that he wasn't planning on letting you leave, convincing you seemingly the only thing on his mind. At this point, violence seemed your only answer, your eyes once more taking in the sight of the bandaging on his chest.

"I'm sorry," you apologized beforehand, inhaling nervously at his confused expression before digging your nails into his chest. A growl left his mouth immediately, his hands letting go of your waist as you pushed him to the side with all your strength and bolted towards the door.

Taehyung fell to the floor behind you, his hand covering his shirt right where the wound was, the wetness of the blood seeping through his bandages. He hissed in pain, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. The sound of your cries felt like music to his ears, your small fists banging on the door which had been locked the second Taehyung stepped onto the rooftop. It was funny of you to think that you could overpower Kim Taehyung so easily, your obliviousness once again showing through your stupid attempt to escape him.

Tears ran down your cheeks upon the realisation that you were stuck here with him, your heart pounding in your chest just like your hands against the door. You were a fool to think Taehyung wasn't fully prepared. Of course he had expected this from you. Of course he was one step ahead of you.

"Please, someone open the door!" You begged, sobbing with your forehead against the cold metal, slowly sinking to your knees. Just then, you heard his laugh, deeply resonating around you as you frowned in silence. It was endless, not the kind of laughter you'd hear after a joke but the kind you'd hear only with the intention of being mocked. He was laughing at you and your silly attempt of running away from him, knowing very well that Kim Taehyung did not let go of things that he so desperately craved. You being one of them.

"Did you think it was that easy, Y/N?" He asked, his voice dripping with amusement. Turning around to face him, you stared at him with teary eyes, watching his painful state with a heart full of regret. You weren't one to hurt people at all, let alone intentionally and yet you had taken such a drastic leap tonight. To save yourself. That was truly justified, wasn't it?

"Petal, even if you had managed to leave this place, I'll have you know that I'll always find you." He grinned maliciously, making you truly scared of him. Gritting his teeth, he stood up, your back pressing against the door as he slowly proceeded to stalk towards you, his gaze pinning you down and rendering you unable to move. You felt like a prey before him, his angry eyes telling you just how much you had pissed him off.

"I just wanna go home," you stated, frowning at him with wet cheeks and quivering lips. Halting right before you, Taehyung kneeled down, his hand coming to rest against your cheek.

"And we'll go, Y/N. We'll go to our home," he mumbled almost lovingly, his eyes glistening with so much affection that if you didn't know any better, you'd think he loved you. The truth of the situation though, was that Kim Taehyung was obsessed with you and there was no way you were going to let him take you.

"N-no, I wanna go to my home," you dared, Taehyung's jaw clenching upon hearing your words. Within a second, his fingers dug into both your cheeks, your lips pouting at the force with which he was holding your jaw in place. Leaning closer to you, Taehyung's nose brushed against yours, your own hand taking hold of his wrist to make him let go.

"What a shame it'd be to know that your little sister had to die because you couldn't make the right decisions."

Eyes widening, you let out a whimper at his threat, your breath having been knocked out for a second. It was as if the world had stopped around you, your heart wishing that this was all just a bad dream. The thought of anything happening to your sister was enough to break your will, especially since you were the only one she had. If she were to get hurt because of the one person who was supposed to protect her, then you couldn't even begin to imagine how meaningless your own life would become.

Taehyung loosened his grip on your jaw, watching you cry harder because of what he had said. It hurt him to know that you were crying because of him but he had to say it. Sure, you were hurt right now, maybe you even hated him but he knew that once you became his, you'd never have to see a bad day in your life. He would love you so hard that you'd never think about anyone else ever again. It was going to be just you and him. Forever.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt her." You cried, sealing your fate with the devil with no chance of going back. Smiling fondly at you, Taehyung wiped your tears, the stench of blood hitting your nose only for you to see his crimson tainted hand grazing your cheek.

"I'll take very good care of you, petal. Don't you worry your little head," he cooed, your eyes staring at him with horror. You could feel the blood now staining your cheek, Taehyung's eyes adoring it with a hint of madness. His blood on your skin was like his name on a trophy, a sign of who it belonged to. And it gave Taehyung an immense amount of pleasure to see your innocence tainted with his filthy gore. The colour red was yours and Taehyung couldn't wait to paint you in it.

"We'll be drowning in love soon, just wait and watch."

A/N: Hiiii, see I am back again! I don't have much to say today cause I am really sad for some reason. You know, the kind of sad that makes you wanna just sit and cry all night? Yeah, it's THAT!

Anywayyyy! I'll probably be posting each member in a break of 4-5 days because I want each member to get their fill. Soooo, the next one comes in a while! Till then, have fun, guys. Ily<3

#bts #bts imagines #bts reactions #smileyoongle #mafia bts imagines #bts yandere #yandere bts imagines #bts taehyung #yandere taehyung #mafia taehyung #mafia boss taehyung #yandere mafia taehyung #mafia taehyung reaction #mafia bts reactions #yandere bts reactions

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tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

WHERE THEY LIKE TO KISS YOU PT 1 | PT 2

GENRE: Fluff | Comfort | Insecurity | SUGGESTIVE (!) | Domestic

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE | reader is insecure ab stomach (suna) | cheesiness | poor writing

A/N: atp—

TADASHI — HAND

It brought you comfort, his lips dragging along the back of your palm gently when he needed you to know everything will be all right. The soft noises that escaped when his mouth left created a pool of butterflies that flew effortlessly in your stomach. You never miss the slight curve of his lips every time he presses down to meet your knuckles or the way he kisses up to your wrist to your arm, meeting your shoulder with an addition of a light suck every so often. You love when he raises your hand to meet his lips politely, forcing your eyes to stick to his and giving an excuse to take a step forward and flush your body against him. His affection bleeding through every time, you had to admit, it was charming. He was like your own prince.

KOUSHI — NAPE

When his lips brush against the skin on the back of your neck, you can't help but relax a bit and lean into his embrace. His chest behind your back and his hands roaming around like he had the whole world to explore, you audibly sigh in relaxation. It felt so nice, having his warm mouth on your nape—your head tilting just enough to give him more room, the vibrations in his hums of delight spreading throughout your body like wildfire, his sweet pecks of excitement when he's perfectly content. He loved it the most when he would find you in the bathroom, occupying yourself in front of the mirror. Wrapping your middle with his arms, his lips push against your skin in satisfaction as if he had been craving it. He had been.

TETSUROU — SHOULDER

His kisses slow down when he hears your sniffles and feels a hot droplet plop on his forearm, but they never stop. He lays your back down against him on the wall behind the bed, and his arms don't lose grip of your shaking body. His lips meander the same area until you stop crying, and instead breathe steadily against him with your heart rate at its lowest—when you're asleep. Only then is when he moves to your cheek and lets his lips roam across your face. The next morning when he finds your body next to his on the mattress, he smothers you with kisses to your shoulder and back to wake you up, not stopping even when he's chuckling at your dry giggles to the ticklish feeling. He was glad you were smiling again, though he knew his sugar-laced lips went a long way, so it wasn't long before they caught up.

ATSUMU — CHEEK

Somehow, his lips always seem to be on your cheek. He greets you with a loud smooch, he says, "g'night, Angel," before he presses his mouth against your cheek, and when he leaves in a rush for practice, he shouts, "love ya!" only a second before the side of your face is left wet with the imprint of his moist lips. He likes to make you laugh while holding you down against him with his rather muscular arms and suffocate you with his kisses, watching and hearing a burst of uncontrollable laughter escape your throat. When you playfully whine for him to stop, he raises his head above yours, his chest rising and falling heavily with his platinum hair dangling towards your forehead. His eyes glimpsed back and forth between your blown pupils and his arms shifted beside your head when your fingers gripped a little harder on his biceps. It's only then when you're left breathless as he smashes his lips against yours in desire for something a little different than a laugh.

RINTAROU — STOMACH

You don't know why your boyfriend has such an admiration for your middle, for you were never fond of it yourself. You always question why his head rests against your plush skin while he scrolls mindlessly through social media or how he undoubtedly falls asleep with his lips parted and his arms wrapped around your waist. Every time you ask him, it's always: "because" or "why not". It takes you until he explains to you to figure out that every time he purposely drifts his lips across your stomach, every time he teases you with a tiny suck that would last for days, and every time he hugs your body and just gives the lightest butterfly kisses, he does it because he loves it. He could even say it brought him comfort, just having his head on his personal pillow. You were surprised, but getting used to this wasn't hard at all. He was just waiting for when it all became routine.

TOBIO — TEMPLE

You felt rewarded every time he smiled against your forehead. You couldn't help it! His warm lips pushing against your temple was one of the best feelings, your nerves tingling and your heart flying out of your chest instead of your stomach dropping to the floor. It was his message to you when he was proud, a gentle, long kiss on your head telling you that he thought you were amazing, and everything you do is, too. You never miss the shy blush on his cheeks or the red tip of his nose and ears; you tease him by draping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his to lean in. His hands glide down to your hips while your head raises, disconnecting his mouth before you just...gaze. It never lasts long before your heads are stuttering inch by inch together and your eyelids close hazily—your lips meeting his in gratitude. Though it doesn't stop there, you take note of. It never really does.

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listentothisyoooh · 3 years

Text

Care For You; BC

A/N: This piece is +18, minors do not interact.

Summary: You come home from work, only to find your boyfriend, Chris, exhausted and drained. What can you say, when he asks you to make him feel better in your own special ways?

Warnings: sub Chan, soft dom female reader, hand jobs, orgasm control, edging, ropes, dirty talk, use of nicknames (mistress, little, pup, angel, etc), mention of the color system --

Word Count: 4.2k

“Hey, hi baby!” You whispered, sitting down on the edge of the mattress next to Chan’s rigid body, “When did you get home?” Caressing the tangled, short platinum blond locks sprawled on the pillow, you smiled down at his puffy, tired face; it probably wasn’t a good thing that you weren’t answered by a smile.

“An hour, I guess.” He rasped, his cords rugged with sleepiness and something else –something you didn’t quite like. The cool, white sheets covered him up to his shoulders, leaving no patch of pale skin open for your sight, and the faded shade of raspberry on his perky lips further demonstrated just how tired the man was.

“Oh honey,” You cooed, leaning over Chan to plant a kiss on his temple while he lay on his side, facing where you sat, “you seem exhausted. Are you alright? Did something happen?” You couldn’t really help the way your brows knotted as a sign of worry. Using arms as pillars next to your boyfriend’s figure, you bowed above him; ceiling cream lights now blocked away from his sight and he could look up at you with those wide, glossy eyes, the peachy gleam of the bedside lamp reflecting from them.

“I’m okay, babe, don’t worry;” He assured, settling on his back gently, “It was just—a very, very long day!” A light laugh puffing out of him, he pulled on the sheets to conceal the lower part of his face from you, eyes still locked with yours. Chan was always soft –so soft, gentle and sweet, and that was why you just couldn’t stop showering him with light, lingering touches, one now being granted for him across his left cheekbone and the side of his eye by your thumb; he seemed to really enjoy it, lids flowing down and expression turning into a relaxed, almost blank one.

“Anything I can do, Channie?” Your gentle question fluttered his eyes open, “want me to make you something? Or get you some pills to help you sleep?” Sometimes, when he was too spent, it became frustratingly difficult for him to fall asleep, so it wouldn’t be far from ordinary if he were to have the same problem now; puffy eyes, flushed cheeks and tousled locks only asked for a bit of rest.

“Can you take care of me?” His quiet voice rose from beneath the sheets, his linear eyes staring right into yours, making your chest quiver alongside that innocent little request.

“Of course!” You smiled, “What do you need? I can give you a massage…” Your suggestion was met with his negative nod, the grips over the edge of the cover tightening.

“No,” He gulped, “can you take care of me, mistress?” There was already a certain breathlessness in his words which only made you grit your teeth; he looked so devastatingly vulnerable, looking up at you with hope, exhaustion and plea in his stare.

“Aren’t you a little too tired for that, pup?” Was the last thing you wanted to say to him, the last thing he wanted to hear too; shaking his head no, Chan squirmed in place while waiting for you to answer to the desperate request in a way that would satisfy both of you.

Instead, you just smiled. Cupping his right, warm cheek, you lightly pinched its plumpness and traced your hand lower unto his neck and chest, pulling that nuisance of a fabric away from those beautiful lips and skin. He visibly gulped at your movements –at being scanned by your sharp eyes, but made no objections whatsoever; the easy compliance egged you on to inch his figure further southwards, fingers dancing on the white sheet. It seemed like he was bare under the covers, and when your hand finally clasped at the side of his right thigh and absorbed the gentle body heat, your assumptions turned out to be accurate, slapping a smirk on your face.

“Are you naked, little?” You asked, stare switching between Chan’s agape lips and anticipating, bright eyes; he did nothing, as if waiting for your sly hand to figure that out itself. “Why is that?” Your gentle tone tried to coax the words out of the man, “Were you being naughty when I was at work?”

“No!” It was adorable how the reply cut off his quiet sigh, being shot out to convince you, “No, I was just waiting for you, and… I fell asleep.” He explained, his covered chest heaving out of slight nervousness. A light chuckle sprang out of you while you flew down to peck his pretty lips.

“Relax, pup; I believe you.” You assured, “It would be fine if you did, though;” Leaning down on your elbow, you peppered lingering kisses near his mouth, your free hand caressing his bicep from over the covers, “you’ve been so good lately—you deserve a treat, both from me and yourself.” By the way his cheek flexed under your lips, you could tell he was smiling. “So, let’s give you a treat then, angel!” He shivered when your breath rubbed on the sensitive spot under his ear.

As soon as you backed away and got off of the bed, Chan rose up to sit on his butt and see what you were doing, the white cover dropping unto his lap; knowing that you’re being watched, you made your way to the small, antique chest placed on top of a console table next to your closet, and opened its lid, eyes immediately landing on the dark jade bundle of silk rope as well as the small tube of expensive, cinnamon scented lubricant, both of them sitting brazenly over the extra pile of naughty toys and accessories! You grabbed the objects with content, having already formed a plan in your head while expecting eyes bore into your back; you threw the equipment on the mattress right next to the man’s feet, fighting back a smirk when your short glance caught him staring at them and gulping. The chair next to the ajar door welcomed your buttoned shirt and jeans to leave you alone with the tight red top and black panties, watching you silently set a course to your boyfriend back on the bed.

“Are you feeling verbal today?” You asked the young man whose eyes obviously swayed over your figure without any intention. It took a dazed, short while for Chan to answer, but he finally did after a gulp and pursing his lips.

“I don’t know…” He shook his head when you sat in front of his folded legs on the mattress, putting a calf between your locations; his slumped, pale body was screaming for your attention in the most innocent way possible, which wasn’t all that rare for the man, as he, deep down, was very innocent, despite what he liked to show his fans and or had to portray of himself because of his career and his position in their group. It hadn’t really been mentioned yet, but you were aware of the heartwarming fact that you were the only person entrusted with this side of his character –a side he himself cherished dearly yet had always tried to suppress, until meeting you, of course.

“Well then,” You caressed his puffy cheek, pressing your forehead on his and giving him an Eskimo kiss, “we just have to find out, I guess!” Your soft chuckle mixed with the one Chan let out, and you found the moment intimate and soothing enough to begin kissing the man, allowing his passionate lips to gently dance over yours for a while before adding your tongue into the mixture and earning light huffs and sighs from his waving throat.

“Fold your arms on each other.” Guiding his hands, you helped him hold his left forearm in front of his abdomen and place the right one on top of it, wrapping his fingers around his elbows to show satisfaction for the plan; catching the wait in the slouched figure, you got a grip of the ropes behind your rear and started your rather enticing mission of binding the man’s arms together, knots and rings gently kissing his pale skin.

He was more than compliant, once or twice pecking your face when you leaned too close to tighten a knot or readjust a bundle; his breaths were even yet deep, and in between all of that, you could clearly witness a tent forming on the sheet sprawled on his lap, slow yet bold. His mind was taken by your scent, the close but still far away heat of your embrace, and he couldn’t help the way his body reacted to your light, accidental contacts across his arms; dear lord, was he touch-starved!

“All good?” You asked, finally finished with your work. His simple nod was good enough of an answer.

The brightness which reflected from the white covers on the bed turned him even paler and that allowed the jade rope to show off its elegant color on Chan’s bare figure. He looked stunning, blond hair sticking out in this direction or that, lips swollen and red from the excessive nervous biting; there was nothing holding you back from lifting up his chin and crashing your mouth unto his, having him nailed in place by a heavy grip on his thigh. He huffed over your face shakily as your hand plowed in between his locks which you now realized were damp; he must’ve showered after coming home from the studio, you guessed.

“You like this rope; don’t you, puppy?” You giggled, leaving a gentle kiss on his perky bottom lip, trailing down to his jaw and throat while pulling his head back. “Is it the fabric? Or the color?” Your question drowned in the dip of his neck vein as you sucked lightly on it, hearing him whimper impatiently and wriggle in place.

“Color.” He replied simply, trying to gulp with the uncomfortable position of his head. Your tongue, tracing wet lines on the distinct veins and bulges beneath his sensitive skin, made him tense uncontrollably; he was already so worked up, despite being tired.

“Yeah?” Your teasing tone sent a shiver into his shoulders, “I was thinking about getting you that mini wand vibrator you showed me the other day –the jade one…” Looking back up into his eyes, he panted lightly, “Good, yeah?” He nodded once again, not trusting his voice to make an appearance, making you smile with adoration, “What’s so special about jade anyway?” The man’s heart-rate suddenly picked up and he leaned his forehead above your ear out of embarrassment for what he was gonna confess to.

“It was the color of your underwear the first time you… um—the first time I met mistress!” He tried his best to voice his explanation in the least flustering way, however hard it was. The confession was accompanied by his little hiss when you giggled and dragged the covers off of his figure, making sure it created the slowest, roughest amount of friction and grip.

“Oh, right…!” You mused, pulling your head away only inches; he didn’t seem too pleased about that, but watching you lean forward on your left arm nailed next to his hip and looking up at him with a little smile was all he could think about at the moment. Your index finger on the free hand began drawing circles on his hard tip, “That was a good night, wasn’t it baby?” He was too busy staring into your eyes with knotted brows and a bitten lip, obviously tensing to prevent from moving under your touch; seeing his composure, you massaged the head of his member with your thumb and index finger, gliding them down to its edge and dragging back up without haste but with good pressure. “You were bad, really bad—remember?” Smirking, at the way he kept pursing his lips while looking down at you, you came to the conclusion that he probably wasn’t going to be verbal that day; he rarely was, to be honest –only when he was too pent up or maybe too cocky, which didn’t happen all that often, but it was worth the experiment. He might not have liked to be talkative at these times, but he damn sure liked being talked to; he had admitted so more than once, dialogues and monologues being half of the pleasure for him.

Gluing your lips on his chin, you felt him shake as the tip of your finger pressed unto his red slit and slid back and forth, eliciting short whimpers from his agape mouth; he squirmed and squirmed but with no apparent aim, since he neither tried to settle efficiently under your teasing touch, nor did he back away from it to protest. He kept staring at you as if there was something he awaited, gulping and gulping and gulping!

“Lie back and spread your legs for me, sweetie.” You crawled back to grant the man space for his task, the one he fulfilled right after hearing your command.

The now cool spot on the mattress welcomed his muscly back and the sheets straightened when his feet dragged away from each other to make a perfectly fitting nest in between his thighs for you. He had to strain his neck to look over at you, so you decided to help him out by hovering above his torso and grabbing your own pillow to jam it behind his shoulders, creating a better angle for his vision. It was the hardest thing to resist kissing his beautiful lips and you saw no point in it anyway, diving down to steal a few noisy, wet pecks from your boyfriend, retreating into your place near his groin next.

“Mistress has taught you well, hasn’t she?” You purred, kneeling between his legs and sliding them over your thighs to earn the closest spot possible, “You used to be so hesitant –so, so impatient too,” He kept licking his lips while gazing at you, his deep breaths egging you on, “but now look at you; a good,” Your palms slowly wrapped around his length and started screwing over its upper and lower half in opposite directions, “good little angel for me.” His head tossed back from the combination of your words and movements; he was fully hard and flushed.

A low whine echoed in the room when you detached your hands from him and grabbed the lonely bottle from over the mattress instead; the moment its contents poured on your palm and released their exotic scent, a breathy, whisper of your nickname rose also, Chan staring down at what you were holding. He was crazy about this smell –this certain smell that had always awakened a comfortable haziness inside him, enough to make it impossible for him to stand being in the dorm when Felix was baking croissants; it almost acted like an aphrodisiac for him, you had yet to understand why, and it would be a lie if one were to say you didn’t abuse this little effect!

“Red if it gets too much, yellow if you need a breath.” You repeated his safe words, earning a nod, and went back to clasping your palms on his member just like before, copying the same motion again; he shut his eyes with content, sighing when your warmth finally touched him, drenched in a scent he loved dearly.

In a matter of seconds, he was already mewling, dripping with precum, disheveled locks being plunged into the pillows. His state only worsened when your fingers formed a thin ring and placed it right beneath the prominent edge of his tip and started the classic vibrating motion on its ablaze nerves; a motion he had grown used to, no matter how torturous it was. Giving him short intervals, you managed to earn a glimpse of his face when he looked back down on your hand, eyes narrow and cheeks flushed –his entire upper body flushed.

“Am I bothering you, Christopher?” Hearing his complete name, he clenched his jaw and shook his head violently, most displeased with the full stop of your hands.

“No, no mistress, keep going!” His words were rushed and hoarse as he took a second to recount what he had said, “Could you continue?” He restructured his sentence after witnessing the raise of your brow, and his heaving chest, his sweet, calm voice was just too good to be ignored.

“Ah!” You cooed, “Such a polite little pup, huh? You’ve learned how to earn my favor, haven’t you? Yes, you have, gorgeous!” He was already too far away from sanity to comprehend your praises as your once again vibrating fingers knocked moans out of him one after another, having his legs wrap around your hips with the constant, cruel edging.

He couldn’t decide between watching the scene of your connection or throwing his head back to slap whimpers at the headboard; when he landed eyes on your hands skillfully tapping on the underside of his aching length through palms, all he could think of was finishing right then and there –it was shameful, how sensitive he was to the littlest of touches.

“Hey!” Your stern voice brought him back to his senses, making him stop gritting his teeth and look back down at you, “No hurting yourself!” Your frown confused him, your words too, but when you gestured towards his hands with the raise of your brows, he got the message; he’d become so lost in the on and off of the pleasure in his gut that he’d forgotten to notice the sharp pain of his nails digging into the side of his elbow.

This was the best opportunity –no, excuse, to frustrate him in the ways he liked, or usually did; you could only hope he’d like it now, too. Sliding your hands off of his weeping length, you kept a hard gaze on his linear, shiny eyes and placed your hands limp on your thighs, palms upwards to avoid leaving the mess of lube and precum on yourself.

“I told you never to hurt yourself, didn’t I?” His flushed face fell at your words, catching the serious worry on your features, “Don’t you wanna be good, Christopher?”

God, he hated his name when it left your mouth! He hated being called by his name when it came to you, because it never meant anything good. He felt cold all of a sudden, without your touch or a trace of your affection, and being naked was much, much more embarrassing. His chest was already heaving.

“I do!” He managed to voice out, awkwardly hoarse, “I am good, Mistress; always!” After all this time, it still flustered him to call you that certain name.

“Then why did you ignore my explicit order?” Yes, you were making a much bigger deal out of this than it was; the marks weren’t even deep, he knew that, you knew that.

“It won’t happen again –you have my word, Mistress… Please—“ He stopped to gulp past his dry throat, still looking into your soul with pleading eyes; he looked so tired, yet he never once dreamed of protesting –not to your work anyway.

“Please what, boy?” Your question had its sharp edges –sharper than Chan liked it. Was there any affection in boy? None he could feel, no –it felt colder than his own name.

“I wanna be good for Mistress;” He breathed out with knotted brows, “can I have one more chance? Please, I want—“ His arms wiggled desperately in between the rope, “I need to cum—“ He could feel fire searing his ears, “Can I, please? Only Mistress knows how to give that to me…” Was it enough? Did he have to go deeper? He couldn’t tell based off of your blank expression.

“Hmm…” A smile creept on your face just as the hum was released from your throat, “Such good manners!” You praised, lifting one hand to lightly drag over his pale, beautifully shaped thigh and finally plant around his cock again –a short gasp being his response, “Such a well-behaved little cub!” He clearly twitched at that! Your palm dragged up and down his veins and he was once again, jelly at your touch, “Who taught this little pup how to be so good and polite?” His moan interrupted your question when your other hand wrapped two fingers around the sensitive edge of his tip. One second he’d push his hips into the mattress to desert your touch, and the other, he’d push up to pump into your airy fist. “Christopher!”

“Mistress did!” His shaky answer came only after your call brought him back to earth and snapped his eyes open. “Only Mistress can tell pup to be good –he always listens to you, only you Mistress—oh, fuck, don’t stop –please!” His sweet voice became high-pitched whines as soon as the ring of fingers around his tip began vibrating again; squirming and spasming uncontrollably, he began throwing his hips up to feel more than the brush of your thumb on his base and the vibration of your fingers on his moistened head. “No—no no, ’m gonna cum—is it okay? Can—“ The hoarse groans piercing his mewls wouldn’t let him finish his thoughts, and your fingers weren’t helping his intellect either!

The bulging veins on his stretched back neck were ripe for marking and the way his pale skin had become many shades redder out of frustration and tension could only mean one thing: he’s few seconds away from covering his stomach with white.

What was cuter than normal, day-to-day Chris, was this Chris; the one writhing and begging and whining under the gentlest touch you could grant him –the one actually able to cum from that meager touch! His voice wouldn’t lower, making way for shameless babbles and incoherent pleas, and you just wanted to put him –and your cramping hand– out of misery.

“It’s okay, Little,” You murmured, still able to reach his ear from between his own noises, “you can cum in five…” Hearing the start of his countdown, Chan lowered his head to look at you, just like all the times he was close; he wanted to see you, and more importantly, he wanted you to see him lose it all. “Four…”

“Count faster!” His fingers were now somehow wrapped in the thick threads of the rope and tugged roughly; you could feel the way the mattress dipped eagerly behind you as Chan’s feet pressed on it with curled toes.

“Three…” You smirked, knowing full well his need for ‘being good’ is way more prioritized to his body than getting what he wants. He could always take what you gave him –every single time; he loved and yearned for the care that came after his success, he wouldn’t change it with anything. “Two…” A small, ecstatic mewl left him when your thumb caressed his slit rhythmically, body trembling out of the little stimulation that was successfully driving him insane.

“One.”

He managed to keep his teary eyes open as his mouth fell apart wider and wider for a scratchy moan to swim into the room with nothing holding it back whatsoever; a big, irritating knot came finally undone in his burning stomach and then there it was, hot strings of white connecting the skin of his purple tip to his abs, your fingers still delicately wrapped around his twitching cook.

There was a gentle thump when he let his head fall on the pillow and the way his chest rose and fell seemed kind of painful; he, on the other hand, looked as blissed out as he possibly could, sweat gleaming on his temples.

“Everything okay?” You massaged his member carefully to help it soften sooner and when your hands eventually left him, he huffed out.

“I’m good, all good.” He panted, glancing down at you lazily, catching your satisfied smile.

His mind kept slipping in and out of reality, and the next thing he felt was the warmth of a kiss on his forehead as cold, wet wipes danced on his belly.

“You did so well.” You whispered, taking advantage of the close vicinity, “Take a nap. I’ll order some food and we can watch something later before bed.” His hazy eyes stared up at you, nodding when your fingers slid over the knots over his biceps to rid him of the restraints.

“Is noodle soup okay?” You asked as your steps lead you to the chest to put back the items you’ve retrieved earlier, “Or maybe we should get tomato?” Turning around, you were met with the unconscious figure of your boyfriend, half covered with white sheets, face as puffy and soft as spring clouds.

You couldn’t help but coo and return to his side to pull the sheets higher over his naked body, and when he made no movement at your touch, you just knew he was knocked out cold; and that meant he’d be up in two-three hours, hungry as a starved wolf, and he will need any kind of food he can find –so soup is probably not the best idea to satisfy Bang Christopher Chan!

#bang chan #bang chan smut #sub!skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz #stray kids #sub bang chan #sub chan #sub dom

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cherryatiny · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐤 - 𝐂.𝐒

⩥𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳) 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⩥𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐀𝐔, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

⩥𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐,𝟓𝐤

⩥𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨.

⩥𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐣𝐨𝐛, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 - 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐬𝐬-𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫-𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

⩥𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐯, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Going up the stairs of the old building with high ceilings and cold brickwork walls, the nervous girl was trying to find her way to the tattoo studio, located in the old part of the city centre.

As soon as she saw a poster with the logo of the studio, her eyes lit up, from excitement, but also fear from how the process of getting her first tattoo will go.

Ringing the bell, which was on a doorframe, she nervously gulped and tilted her head to look down on her old Converses. The bell buzzing, signalizing someone opened the door through a system, she hesitantly opened the big, wooden door.

She was met with a hallway of the studio, white walls and wooden parquets topped up with stylish black pouffes. Cabinet with many exhibits such as vintage tattoo guns or diversity of piercings. Walls decorated with photos of tattoos made by the tattoo artist - such a delicate, detailed and minimalistic work.

She didn't know what to expect, as this was her first tattoo she was thinking of getting long ago, but it never really happened. As her friend praised a tattoo artist who did his tattoo, she decided to finally get one herself and book an appointment herself in the said tattoo artist's studio.

„I-Is anyone here? I have an appointment at 2pm. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,“

Soon her ears were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching her. Diverting her eyes from the cabinet, she was met with an extremely strong gaze of a young male.

Y/N couldn't get her eyes off the young male, but at the same time, she couldn't even lock eye contact with him, because he was definitely the most handsome man she has ever seen.

„Ah yeah yeah I know, we talked on the phone and I was actually working on the design you described when we talked. I'm Choi San, the tattoo artist running this place. Follow me, please.”

The young lady shook his hand and followed him to a smaller room in the back, where the whole process will happen.

„I disinfected the whole place already, so we can start right away if you are okay with the design. You said you wanted it to be daisy and lavender underboob tattoo.“

The tattoo artist was showing her the design in his notebook. Y/N was nodding her head in excitement.

„Wau, it's much more better than I've imagined it.“

„That's good to hear. Well, then let's get you to prepare. Umm, h-here's a cloth to use to cover up, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable by being exposed to me. I'll be as gentle as possible since I know getting this type of tattoo is an intimate matter. Sit down and get comfortable, I'll go get ink and some other stuff.“

What a caring man. Y/N pulled the thin shirt over her head and unclipped her lacy bra, her nipples hardening from the breeze of cold air in the room. Sitting down on the massive tattoo armchair, she pulled the cloth San gave her over her exposed upper half, to cover as much as possible.

Soon after San came back with a bottle of black ink, another cloth and a bottle of alcohol, his tattoo gun and stencil already prepared.

„I now need to prepare the area we will tattoo on, it might be a bit cool when we clean it, but when we’ll be transferring the stencil onto your skin, I need you to stay as still as possible.“

Y/N nodded and San poured a bit of alcohol carefully cleaning the area and preventively shaving it with a razor because any hair could cause problems. Cleaning the area again and making sure it’s smooth, he took a stick deodorant to moisten her skin and transfer the stencil. Rubbing a little ointment over the design, to help the needle slide along the skin more smoothly.

Y/N was admiring the purple-ish blue outline on her underboob, meanwhile, San was pouring ink into ink caps, placing needles and tubes in the machine.

„Okay, so first, I’m gonna do the outline, if it hurts or you need a break, just tell me, but try to stay still if possible.“

Y/N’s breath hitched, as San’s soft fingertips caressed her ribs and holding the base of her left breast to keep it up and out of the way, so he can concentrate on the work. San was maybe concentrating, but poor Y/N for sure wasn’t.

His gentle moves of the needle, outlining daisies, lavenders, leaves and haulms on the girl’s soft skin.

His soft caresses slowly turning her on, Y/N crossing her legs to get some friction, the hot young man, the pain and his caresses of her breast easily arousing her after being untouched and without any intercourse for a few months.

Trying hard not to cum under him untouched, she kept repeating in her head to keep professional. After around 30 minutes, San pierced the needle into her skin for the last time, putting down the tattoo gun and letting Y/N finally have her relief.

„So, wanna see your tattoo for the first time, I can bring you a mirror or take a picture of it if you want.“

„The mirror will be enough, thanks San- I mean Mr. Choi.“

San chuckled at how shy and frustrated she was, and honestly, he thought it was really cute, seeing how flustered she got because of him. He searched through a cabinet in which he kept his work stuff, looking for the mirror.

Taking the piece of glass with metal outlining and grip out and handing it over to Y/N. San turned around so she can observe her boobs in the mirrors, although he didn’t want to, he had to, because he didn’t want his client to feel uncomfortable with him.

„Okay so I need to clean it up now, apply a protective layer of ointment and wrap it with a bandage to prevent infection by bacteria.“

San sat down on his previous seat and leaned a little too close to Y/N to do after-tattoo care. His hands rubbing the ointment into Y/N’s skin, the mint scent of the ointment filling the room.

As San was doing the after-tattoo care, Y/N was subconsciously looking at San’s plump lips, this action not going unnoticed by San, lightly smirking at her bold move and leaning a bit closer to her.

Y/N’s breath quickening a bit, as he gained courage and closing the gap between his and her lips. His tongue slipping into her mouth, his body getting closer and closer to her. Y/N breaking the kiss and trying to catch breath, lustful eyes examining his figure.

Black sleeveless top showing off his muscular biceps covered in many small tattoos, droplets of sweat on his forehead and wetting his raven-like hair, making his sculpted face stand out more. San started to get nervous from her silence, a plethora of excuses and apologies already filling his mind.

„I’m- I know this was very unprofession-“

Y/N shushed him with yet another hungry kiss, her hands wrapping around his neck, straightening to get closer to him. The cloth that was supposed to cover her, slipping down, already forgotten as San’s hands caressed her bare upper body.

Pushing her back down on the tattoo armchair, getting on top of her, his legs on both sides of her waist. Groping her velvet breasts carefully, to not dispose the bandage covering her fresh tattoo.

His hand trailing down the soft skin of her tummy, his fingertips getting to contact with a zipper of her shorts, looking up at her to make sure she’s comfortable. Y/N nodded and bucked her hips up to help San take off her denim shorts.

Y/N now only in her basic, old panties with Hello Kitty motive, a puddle of wetness already visible, because who would have thought that she would fuck her tattoo artist. San chuckled as he saw that, thinking it was really cute, she got embarrassed by his smirk and tried to cover her reddened face.

„No covering up princess, I like it, it’s cute, no need to be shy about it.“

San pulled his top off, showing off his solid abs, astonishing Y/N as her hand instinctively went to touch it. San’s long fingers slipping into her panties as his plump lips attached to her jawline, sucking and nibbling on it, continuing to her neck, his actions creating a chain of purplish spots on the soft skin of Y/N’s neck.

His fingers spreading the wetness across her slit, slowly pushing in, to prep her, pulling in and out in a steady, yet delicate movement hitting her G-spot, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. Thumb flicking and circling her clit.

San enjoyed the effect he had on her, Y/N’s vulnerable state as she arched her back, head throwing back, mouth agape as soft whimpers and moans came out, only adding to San's confidence in his actions, leading Y/N closer and closer to her climax.

As her breath quickened, beads of sweat started to drip down her forehead and her legs started shaking, proud smile found its place on San’s face.

When he saw that Y/N got through her climax, his lips attached to hers again, Y/N’s hands groping San’s jeans and unzipping them, San skillfully stripping out of them. His bulge stretching his now uncomfortably tight boxers.

Pulling down his underwear, tossing it on the floor, his cock sprung free, hitting his abs, the tip already leaking of pre-cum.

„Get up princess.“

Y/N hesitantly got up, not knowing what to expect as their naked forms stood in the middle of San's tattoo studio. His hand on her left shoulder pushing her to the wall.

Back hitting the cold brick wall, sending shivers of chill throughout her whole body. Eyes daringly looking up into San's dark ones.

San was trying to control his urge to wrap his arm around her smaller neck as he pounded into her mercilessly, one hand resting on Y/N's collarbones and the second one on the curve of her waist.

„So pretty for me. Seeing your bare skin just sparks a flame of creativity in my head. Imagining all those designs I'll pierce into your skin and then fuck you afterwards... Ready princess?”

Y/N nodded and San connected their lips to distract her from the possible pain she might feel from his penetration.

Succeeding in setting a steady and sensual pace, his lips attacked her collarbones hungrily, hand wrapping around her neck to support her head, San inadvertently choking her, only adding to the pleasure Y/N felt.

The movement of San's hips never failing in brushing against her g-spot, making her moan out melodiously, San groaning out at her pretty sounds as he pulled out and turned Y/N around to thrust into her from behind.

His hand groping her ass, smacking it very softly, not to scare Y/N off, tugging at her hair, to have a better look at her reaction to his actions, enjoyment in her eyes.

„Oh, so you like some good spanking, good to know.”

Although Y/N couldn't see his face, she could sense and hear the smirk on his face from the tone of his voice.

Hand reaching down, to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves in between her legs, and help her reach her climax, spitting on his fingers to lubricate them.

His deep thrusts, hitting her g-spot, his fingers delicately changing the intensity of the rubs only adding to the pleasure she felt, all resulting in a knot forming in her lower belly. Her warm walls slowly starting to shake, around San's girth.

„I know you're gonna cum princess, let it out and milk me.”

And as soon as San finished the sentence a bunch of broken moans came out of Y/N's mouth opened agape, her walls now shaking intensively and uncontrollably around him, as well as her legs leading to San wrapping his arm around her waist to prevent her from falling.

His thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier, feeling himself twitch in her, San pulled out to finish by jerking off, since they didn’t use a condom, but his hand being stopped by Y/N, who got on her knees, ready to finish him herself. San honestly surprised by her actions.

Her hand wrapping around his girth, stroking him and softly squeezing and massaging his balls. Giving kitten licks to the tip with swollen lips from all the kissing. Kissing down his shaft, along the curve and pretty popping vein, she took his whole length into her mouth, letting out almost pornographic-like sounds.

Admiring how her head bobbed on his dick, San collected her hair and held them like a ponytail by instinct, taking over control of her moves. Y/N's hands resting on San’s thigh for a balance, nails scratching it.

San feeling himself getting closer and closer, the tip of his length getting increasingly sensitive, Y/N feeling it too and stimulating him less intensely, to edge him more, teasing him slightly, barely stimulating him and only giving occasional kitten licks to his sensitive tip.

After a while continuing her previous actions, increasing his pleasure and bringing him close to orgasm for the second time, his length twitching in her mouth and spilling his seed on her tongue a few droplets spilling out and dripping down her chin.

San kneeled down next to her, trying to overcome the sensitivity in his lower parts and heavy breathing from the intense and edged orgasm, facing Y/N he licked up her chin, collecting his cum from her chin and kissing her, spitting his cum and saliva into her mouth, the girl swallowing it under his touch.

Both of their bodies collapsing on the ground holding each other for a while and trying to compose themselves as they were complete messes.

As San got up he picked Y/N and seated her on her previous spot on the arm-chair, handing her the clothes that were a long time ago forgotten, trying to get dressed with wobbly arms.

„Should I help you?”

Asked her San with his sweet and caring voice, already in his jeans. Y/N nodded shily and observed as San approached her. She still couldn't believe what has just happened.

His hand taking Y/N's panties, lifting her legs to help him put them on along with her shorts.

„Ah I've probably forgotten to tell you, that you can't wear a bra because of the bandage on your tattoo, um I can handle you my sweatshirt to cover up if you want.”

„That would be nice of you, thanks.”

Soft smile adorning the girl's face, putting on her shirt herself as San went to look after his sweatshirt.

„Here, I hope you come back for another tattoo, and I'll make sure to cum on those tits next time when the tattoo's healed.”

A cocky smile on San's face as he bid goodbye to his new favourite customer Y/N.

#ateez #ateez san #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez san fanfic #ateez san scenarios #ateez san smut #choi san imagines #choi san fanfic #choi san scenarios #choi san #choi san fanfiction #choi san smut

420 notes · View notes

junghelioseok · 3 years

Text

clandestine. | 04

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 6.5k [4/6]

notes: we finally have a set chapter count! did this fic really need to be 6 chapters? absolutely not, but here we are! i’m hoping to have this fella finished up in the next month or so, but we’ll see how that goes given my track record. happy new year, everyone!

warnings: a little underedited bc i’m lazy, shower sex!!! mild? exhibitionist tendencies??? reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty, but what else is new 🤷🏻‍♀️

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

“I swear to god, I am going to amputate your arm with a rusty hacksaw if you elbow me one more time.”

Undeterred, your brother prods you again, pouting at you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “I just want another chip, Noona. Don’t be so mean.”

“Are you a baby bird?” you ask in disbelief, gaping at the way he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. “Seriously, I’m not feeding you. Get your own chips if you want them so badly.”

“But I’ve gotta keep both hands on the wheel,” he replies cheekily. “Ten and two positions, at all times.”

You frown. “Didn’t they change it to nine and three?” Nonetheless, you reluctantly reach into the bag in your lap, pulling out a potato chip and delivering it to his waiting mouth. “Next one’s going straight into your nose,” you warn as he happily crunches down on the snack.

Jimin simply offers you a beatific grin in between chews. “Love you too.”

“Nope, I changed my mind. Next one’s going up your ass.”

Your brother has long since grown used to your threats. “Kinky,” he chuckles as he merges smoothly into the next lane over. The song on the radio shifts into something more upbeat, and Jungkook is quick to start humming along under his breath from his spot in the seat behind you. Within minutes, it’s morphed into a singalong, and the offkey warbling of all seven passengers—no matter how dissonant—is a perfect soundtrack for the remainder of the drive.

The beach, when you arrive, is awash with tourists and locals alike, all clamoring to lay claim to a prime stretch of sand and a decent parking space. Jimin manages to snag a spot just as someone else is pulling out, and the rest of you are quick to disembark and scope out the beach for somewhere to set up camp. Plopping your bag down onto the sand, you rifle through it until you find your sunscreen, mentally patting yourself on the back for buying the spray instead of the cream.

“Can I borrow that when you’re done, Noona?” Taehyung asks, watching you wrench off the cap.

You nod, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure. As long as you help me get my entire back.”

“Deal.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, you shimmy out of your shorts and begin applying sunscreen to your arms and legs. Taehyung peels off his t-shirt, and you spray him down too, making sure to coat his entire back before he takes the bottle and does the same to you.

“I might have gone a little overboard,” he admits once he’s done, capping the bottle and tossing it back into your bag. Warm hands settle onto your exposed shoulder blades, deft fingertips rubbing the excess product into your skin. “There, that should do it. All better.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You turn around and reach out, wiping at a stray fleck of the white lotion on his bicep. “You’ve got a little bit here too, hang on—“

“Mind if I borrow this?”

You turn at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. The dark-haired young man is standing there with your sunscreen in hand, his gaze zeroed in on the way your fingertips linger on Taehyung’s bare skin. Awkwardly, you pull away and nod, hoping that neither of them can hear your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage.

“Yeah. Sure. It’s all yours.”

Jungkook grabs his white t-shirt by the collar, tugging it up and over his head in one smooth motion, and you swallow at the way his taut abdomen flexes as he tosses it aside. “You’ll help me get my back too, won’t you, Noona?”

You nod, moving before he can even finish his sentence. Your feet carry you across the sandy ground on autopilot, and Jungkook exhales audibly as your palms smooth along the golden expanse of his muscular back, dipping down to the waistband of his black swim trunks. Ever since his visit to your bedroom last night, you’ve been itching to touch him—to feel every last inch of him. It’s impossible with your watchful brother and group of nosy friends hovering around though, so you settle for this—rubbing sunscreen into his warm skin while he sprays down his arms and legs.

“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs once you’re done, soft enough so that only you can hear and raising gooseflesh on the back of your neck. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me repay the favor.”

Then Yugyeom is calling his name, and Jungkook sprints down to the shoreline to join his friend in the crashing surf, his face creasing with laughter. Each time he emerges from the waves, droplets cling to his skin like glistening diamonds in the sunlight. It’s impossible to look away from the sight, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips as you watch water drip off his hair and down his nape, pooling in his collarbones before he shakes his head like a dog and sends it spraying in all directions.

All that sunscreen is going to waste, a tiny voice in your head points out, but it’s hard to worry about that when you’re too busy following the path of the water streaming down past his dusky nipples to the ridges of his abdomen. And it’s almost as if he feels your gaze on him, because he’s suddenly staring right back at you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Noona,” he calls, raking a hand through his drenched hair. “The water’s fine. Don’t make me drag you in.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you call back, immediately regretting it when something equal parts mischievous and dangerous flashes across his face. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before, and you back away nervously as he emerges from the waves and saunters toward you. “Jungkook—”

“Yes?” he asks, his voice dropping down into a low purr. “What is it, princess?”

You edge around the towel that you’ve laid out in the sand, as if such a flimsy barrier could stop him in any way. “Just—just don’t dunk me under,” you plead.

Jungkook looks genuinely offended by that. “I would never,” he says, laying a hand over his heart and grabbing yours with his free one. “Now come on—let’s get you wet.”

You groan at the innuendo and try to tug free from his grip, but Jungkook only tightens his grasp, cackling the whole way down to the water.

///

The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the blue sky through with wispy strands of orange and gold, when Jimin raises his hand and declares it dinner time. For the past two hours, you’ve all been engrossed in a very tight three-on-three volleyball match with Jimin serving as referee, and upon hearing your brother’s declaration, Minho looks about ready to chuck the ball into the ocean.

“Dude, are you fucking serious? We’re literally two points from winning!” He gestures wildly at an invisible scoreboard only he can see. “No way we’re stopping here. I refuse on principle.”

“Yeah, I wanna see who the real winner is, too,” Jungkook drawls from the other end of the court, where he’s flanked on either side by Taehyung and Yugyeom. “I mean, we’ve been leading for most of the tournament, so…”

Minho scowls. “And we’re about to win the whole damn thing. Just you wait, Jeon.”

Behind him, you and Taemin exchange helpless glances. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen Jungkook and Minho squabble over the years, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. Both possess a razor sharp competitive streak and a certain pigheadedness that only emerges when it comes to athletic endeavors, and luckily, your brother knows this just as well as you do. Heaving a sigh, Jimin wearily gestures for them to continue, resuming his post at the end of the net. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Next point wins.”

On the other side of the net, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “I’m good with that if you are.”

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho retorts. “It’s our serve. You ready?”

Jungkook smirks. “Bring it on.”

Minho cracks his knuckles and tosses the ball over to you for the serve. “All right then, let’s fucking do this.”

You sigh. Taking a deep breath, you heft up the ball, testing its weight before hitting it smoothly over the net. Yugyeom jumps up to intercept, batting it back over to your side, and Minho attempts to spike it back and into the sand. Unfortunately, Jungkook is too quick, and dives down to bump it back over to you. The back and forth continues like this for a while—you see Jimin boredly scrolling on his phone out of the corner of your eye—and you’re strongly considering calling it quits when Jungkook smashes the ball over the net and into the ground right at Minho’s feet.

“And that’s game,” he declares proudly, raking his sweaty hair off his forehead with a triumphant grin.

“Are you finally done?” Jimin asks, rolling his eyes and pocketing his phone. “Thank god. Can we eat now?”

Jungkook claps him on the back in affirmation, ignoring Minho’s loud, adamant protests that your team still technically won. Together, you head back to where your towels and bags sit in the sand, grabbing bottles of chilled water out of the cooler and fishing for snacks. Jimin pulls a package of hot dogs out while Taehyung rips open a bag of chips, and you follow their lead and grab the hamburger patties and buns. “Huh, I swear I bought ketchup,” you mumble to yourself as you rummage through the half-melted ice in the cooler. “Is it not in here?”

“I have it.” Jungkook materializes at your side, proffering the little red bottle. He’s pulled his white t-shirt back on, the material a stark contrast to his tanned skin, and you silently rise to your feet to take it when a sudden wave of lightheadedness rushes over you and sends the world spinning.

“Whoa,” you gasp, swaying on your feet. “Oh, god.”

Jungkook frowns and drops the ketchup bottle, steadying you until most of your weight is leaned against him. “Noona? Are you okay?”

You swallow, hard, and try to shake the unexpected bout of dizziness away. “I don’t know. Got dizzy, all of a sudden. I think I might have stood up too fast?”

Gently, Jungkook presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You feel pretty warm,” he murmurs. “Have you had enough water today?”

“I thought I drank plenty, but maybe not,” you admit, and he nods decisively and gestures for you to follow him.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s grab some water and go somewhere quiet so you can rest. Minho isn’t going to shut up about that match anytime soon, and it’s cooler down by the water.”

You laugh weakly. “We did technically win, you know. We had one more point than you guys.”

“God, not you too,” Jungkook sighs, casting you a playful look over his shoulder as he digs two bottles of water out from the cooler. He uncaps one and hands it over before taking a swig out of his, and you take a grateful sip, relishing in the cool liquid that trickles down your throat.

Nearby, your brother and the rest of the boys have commandeered one of several firepits scattered around the edges of the beach. They’re piling up pieces of driftwood and some of the long, tall sea grass that Taehyung has found, and Jungkook waves at them as he slowly guides you toward the ocean with a hand on your back. “We’re gonna go find some more wood!” he calls, and Jimin raises a hand in acknowledgment before turning back to the firepit.

Water laps gently at your toes as you and Jungkook walk along the shore, washing away all traces of your footprints. The sun dips below the horizon at last, illuminating the sky in one last burst of red and orange and gold that slowly fades into deep purples and blues as night falls. The temperature dips as the moon ascends to her lofty throne, accompanied by a smattering of starry pinpricks. Most of the beachgoers have packed up and left by this point, and here, with nothing but Jungkook’s quiet, familiar presence and the lapping waves, you feel more at peace than you have in a long time.

“You know, I’m really glad I came this weekend,” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you. Your gaze drops down to your toes, fixing your attention on a pearly white seashell that’s sticking out from the wet sand. “I think you were right—I really did need a break from everything.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that,” Jungkook says, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you say it again? Something about me being right?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Jungkook casts a quick look over his shoulder, and when you follow the trajectory of his gaze, you notice just how far you’ve gotten from the firepit where the others are sitting. Darkness has settled over the beach, the sand painted a wan silver from the light of the moon, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand finds its way around yours.

“Jungkook—” you begin, but trail off when he twines your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze.

“They can’t see us, Noona,” he murmurs. “Relax.”

Easier said than done, you want to say. Nevertheless, you suck in a deep breath and take another sip from your water bottle, trying to ignore the way Jungkook swings your interlocked hands between you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we be trying to find more driftwood?” you ask after several long seconds have dragged by. “We need way more if we’re gonna keep the fire going.”

Jungkook hums softly and veers inland, until the sand beneath your feet is dry and starts sticking to your wet toes. You come across a few scattered pieces of wood, dried out by the sun, and tuck them beneath your arm. Likewise, Jungkook gathers a few pieces of his own, hefting them up before reaching out to take your hand once more. His fingers slot all too comfortably into the spaces between yours, and your heart stutters a few times in your chest before plunking down into your churning stomach.

Nighttime has well and truly settled over the beach by the time you and Jungkook start picking your way back over to rejoin the group around the firepit. You pull your hand out of Jungkook’s well before you reach the ring of orange light that the flames cast across the sand, your arm now swinging free at your side and your fingers cold from the loss of his warmth. Silently, you hasten your pace and plop down onto the towel that Jimin has spread out, stretching out your legs toward the fire and wiggling your toes.

“Where have you guys been?” Jimin asks curiously. “You just kinda wandered off.”

“Getting more driftwood,” you reply, gesturing at the small pile you’ve dropped at the edge of the towel. “We told you that’s where we were going.”

Jimin frowns for a few seconds before the memory resurfaces. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

Jungkook snorts and takes a seat beside you, dropping his stack of driftwood on top of yours. “Dumbass.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Jimin retorts.

“You’re both dumbasses,” you sigh.

The fire crackles merrily, sending orange sparks up into the velvety black sky. There’s a grill situated over the flames, loaded with hamburger patties and hot dogs, and you watch as Jimin tears open a bag of hot dog buns and begins to place them around the edges.

“Hey, can you throw me the hamburger buns?” he asks you. “I wanna try toasting them.”

“You’re gonna burn them,” you tell him flatly. Nonetheless, you locate the second bag and toss it over, watching as he makes more room on the grill.

Dinner is a loud, chaotic affair, filled with laughter and conversation and plenty of booze to go around. Jimin has procured a flask of whiskey from somewhere in his clothing—an impressive feat in and of itself, considering he’s only wearing swim trunks and a thin blue t-shirt. You wave him off when he offers you a sip, and he shrugs and throws back a generous swallow himself. Then he offers it to Jungkook, who shakes his head and raises his water bottle. “Designated driver,” he says. “I’m sticking to water tonight.”

Curiously, you glance over at him. “You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t planning on drinking, so I can drive us back.”

“With the way you were looking earlier?” Jungkook fixes you with a look of pure disbelief. “Not a chance. Besides, we’re going back to the real world tomorrow, and the last thing I need is to be hungover. I have to get us back home in one piece, not to mention the entire menu I still have to memorize for work.”

You hum. Jungkook has mentioned his new job a few times—a summer stint working as a server at a new restaurant opened by a family friend named Seokjin. “Right, I remember you saying that. You start on Monday, don’t you?”

“Dinner shift,” Jungkook confirms. “I stole a whole bunch of pens from Junghyun’s room the other day in preparation. Jin said I’d probably end up losing two-thirds of them by the end of the week.”

“That sounds about right,” you tell him with a laugh. “Some guy stole my favorite pen last summer when I was working at that diner on Main. Lesson learned, forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “Yeah, I bet.”

You grin. “But, hey, seriously. If you need me to quiz you on that menu, I’ve got time to spare.”

“Honestly, I might take you up on that offer. I have flash cards, and everything.” He uncaps his water bottle and takes a long sip, his throat bobbing with each swallow, before glancing back over at you. “What about you? You ready for your internship?”

You sigh and offer him a helpless little shrug. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, to be honest. I don’t think I’m going to stop stressing about it until I get through my first day. The entire thing still doesn’t feel real.”

“I get that,” Jungkook hums. “Well, I can imagine it, at least. I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through, since I’ve never had an adult job, but—“ He shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly. “I can kind of relate, I guess.”

“All jobs suck a little bit,” you tell him, and Jungkook lets out a derisive huff of agreement.

“I’ll drink to that,” he says, and the two of you tap your water bottles together before rejoining the conversation with the rest of your friends.

///

The drive back to the lake house is shorter than you remember it being—though that might be because you spend most of it watching Jungkook drive. He steers with one hand slung carelessly over the wheel, his expression relaxed as he sings along to whatever pop hit plays on the radio. Unloading the car is a team effort, though you hear no shortage of complaints from Jimin as he heaves the cooler over the threshold of the house before collapsing atop it in a pile of limp limbs.

“Thanks for leaving me to carry this thing by myself,” he snarks, not even bothering to raise his head. “Really appreciate it.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung scoffs, tossing a game console at him. “Have a beer and pick something to play. We’re waiting on you.”

You watch as your brother immediately hops up and darts over to join the rest of the boys lounging in the living room, fighting back the sudden wave of exhaustion that washes over you. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, hiding a yawn behind your hand. “Goodnight, guys.”

A chorus of goodnights and see you in the mornings rings out in response, and you wave before heading down the hall to your room and into the adjoining bathroom. Your hair is crusty from being submerged in the salty water of the ocean, and a shower to rejuvenate your dehydrated skin is just what you need. Turning on the tap, you wait until it’s flowing warm before stripping out of your clothes and tossing them onto your bed to deal with later. Then you step into the shower and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face and soak into your hair.

You’re midway through squeezing a generous dollop of shampoo into your palm when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Noona?” Jungkook’s voice filters through the sound of rushing water, low and lilting like a song. “You left kinda fast. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

You cap the shampoo bottle and replace it on the shelf, peering out from behind the shower curtain. “I’m fine,” you call, hesitating before you steel your nerves and continue. “You can come in, if you want. I don’t like yelling through the door.”

Slowly, the bathroom door eases open, revealing Jungkook standing in his and Jimin’s shared bedroom. His brown eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him, and you have no doubt that he’s thinking about just what the palm tree patterned curtain is hiding from his view. Your lip finds its way between your teeth when you notice him shuffle his feet awkwardly for a moment before stepping a little closer to where you’re standing beneath the spray, his mouth opening to speak.

“Join me?”

The invitation slips past your lips, unbidden, but you have no intention of taking it back. Not when Jungkook’s gaze darkens to obsidian at those two simple words, his mouth snapping shut and his hands already reaching for the hem of his white t-shirt. Not when he strips it off in one smooth motion to reveal all the dips and ridges of his abdomen, his skin golden even under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. And certainly not when he pulls aside the shower curtain and joins you beneath the spray, his dark eyes appreciatively raking up and down your bare figure.

“Hey,” he says, his voice a low purr.

“Hi,” you respond, reaching out and trailing a fingertip down his chest.

And then you’re dropping down to your knees, your tongue darting out to tease at the tip of his already rising cock. One hand finds its way to his balls while the other traces the line of his pelvic bone, and you smirk when you feel him let out a shuddery breath.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Someone’s eager.”

You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, humming, and Jungkook’s fingers fly into your dampened hair. “Oh, fuck. You’re really trying to kill me, huh, princess?” he asks, and you respond by taking a little more of him into your mouth, laving at the vein running along the underside of his length before hollowing your cheeks. Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan escaping his parted lips, and you preen under his encouragement as he urges you to take him deeper.

You’ve just begun to settle into a rhythm—figuring out exactly how much pressure he likes and what makes his hips buck—when he suddenly pushes you away. “Jung—” you begin, only to have him silence you with a searing kiss, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you to your feet.

“Wanna fuck you properly,” he rasps. His hand finds its way between your legs, experimental fingers sliding through the wetness that’s gathered there, and your cheeks heat up when he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. “Just let me go grab a condom,” he whispers urgently. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’ll be righ—”

You silence him with a hard kiss. “Don’t,” you mumble. “I’m clean. Are you?”

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes wide. “Does that mean… I mean, are you…?”

“I’m on the pill,” you murmur. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

A sharp gasp escapes you when Jungkook cages you against the cool tiled wall of the shower, the slick surface dampened by the spray from the showerhead. He grabs ahold of your thigh and hoists it up to wrap around his waist, and you’ve never been more thankful for the ugly fish patterned shower mat that your mom insisted on putting down to prevent slipping. Jungkook nestles into the newly created space between your legs, his cock hot and slick against your center, and you keen when he grinds against you in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek. “Feel how hard you get me, Noona?”

“God, Jungkook,” you breathe back. “Just fuck me already, will you?”

His answering chuckle sends a shiver from your toes to your crown. “So needy,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from your thigh to your hip. His mouth seeks out yours as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, meeting little resistance as he slowly begins pushing inside. Your walls part willingly for him and your lips do too—his questing tongue slipping inside when you moan and beginning his seemingly endless task of mapping out every corner of your mouth.

“God, I forgot how big you are,” you breathe when he bottoms out—the entirety of his hot, heavy length sheathed within your walls. Your head falls back against the tile as he rolls his hips experimentally, a moan that sounds vaguely like Jungkook’s name escaping your lips. Your arms come up to brace on his shoulders as he picks up his pace, but he intercepts one of your hands and twines your fingers together, settling them onto the wall just to the left of your head. His other hand returns to your thigh to keep you stable and spread out for his increasingly harsh thrusts, and you whimper helplessly in his ironclad grip.

“That’s it,” he whispers, groaning when you clench around him. “God, you’re so fucking tight, princess.”

“Fuck me open, then,” you moan back, squeezing his hand and meeting his next thrust with one of your own. Jungkook’s breathing stutters, and you laugh breathlessly at the way his mouth falls open at the spike of pleasure. Emboldened, you grind against him, the spray from the shower easing the movement. “Jungkook, please.”

He chuckles hoarsely. “Careful what you wish for,” he purrs against the shell of your ear, punctuating the warning with a harsh roll of his hips that sends all remaining thought flying out of your head. In this moment, there’s only Jungkook—his dark hair dampened and dripping, the spray from the showerhead slicking his chest and pooling in his clavicle before trailing down each ridge and dip of his honeyed skin. His lips find yours again, and you sigh into the kiss as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

“Hey, Jungkook! You in there?”

Your eyes fly open at the new voice, your body tensing when there are several loud bangs on the door. Jungkook freezes mid-thrust with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, his throat bobbing nervously as he fights to find a response. You can practically see the gears whirring in his brain, and shove uselessly at his chest in an attempt to escape his steely embrace.

“That’s Jimin,” you hiss urgently, turning his face toward yours and prodding his cheek until his gaze refocuses. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Dude.” Jimin’s voice is laced with irritation. “I wanna brush my teeth! What the hell are you doing in there?”

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between you and the closed bathroom door. Then he inhales deeply, pressing a light kiss to your furrowed forehead before pulling the shower curtain closed, ensuring there are no gaps. “I got you,” he murmurs softly, his brown eyes boring into yours. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin, but they fly open again when Jungkook breaks away and yells for Jimin to come in. Warm palms slide soothingly down your sides, but that doesn’t stop you from tensing up when the bathroom door creaks open, your brother’s soft footsteps approaching the flimsy palm tree patterned curtain.

“Have you been showering this whole time? Jeez. Leave some hot water for the rest of us, will you?”

Jungkook chuckles. Ever so slowly, he pushes forward until he’s fully seated inside you again, and you do your best to level a glare at him even as pleasure flares at the base of your spine. “There’s plenty to go around,” he says. “Relax.”

You get the distinct feeling that he’s not just addressing Jimin anymore. Jungkook pulls back until only the top of his cock remains nestled in your folds, and you open your mouth to berate him but all that comes out is a low moan when he sinks back inside you in one swift push.

On the other side of the curtain, you hear the faucet turn on. “Man, I can’t believe we leave tomorrow,” Jimin says over the sound of running water. “The weekend flew by.”

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, brushing a thumb across your clit. The pace he’s set is slow and deep, and is made all the more sensual by the steam that’s steadily building up in the small room. You try once more to push him away—to quell the growing ache between your legs—but it’s all in vain as he chuckles softly into the crook of your neck, his bare shoulders quaking. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice a wicked little whisper that’s immediately lost in the spray of water. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You don’t have a chance to answer. Jimin starts speaking again, this time accompanied by the sound of toothbrush bristles scrubbing against his teeth. “I’m starting up at the studio as soon as we get back—isn’t that crazy? I mean, I’ve never taught anyone how to dance before. Not really. Not for real.”

Jungkook snaps his hips up so sharply that you nearly mewl in surprise, forced to bite down into his meaty shoulder to muffle the noises that threaten to escape from your throat. “You’re a great tutor, man,” he says, his voice steady even as he resumes his slow, lazy thrusts, his cock dragging along your fluttering walls. “You’ve been helping people with math for, what, two years? What makes you think it’ll be any different with dancing?”

Jimin spits into the sink and sighs. “I don’t know. It’s scarier because there’ll be more people, I guess. Tutoring is one on one, y’know? And at the studio, I’ll have a full class of people watching me. Every single move I make, they’ll be looking at. That’s fucking terrifying to think about.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s hips still, his cock buried to the hilt in your cunt. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, backed by the relentless spray from the showerhead, and Jungkook leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, his hair dripping.

“You’re a great dancer, Jimin,” he says once he’s pulled back and straightened back up to his full height. “Best one I know. You’re also one of the smartest people I know, but right now, you’re being really fucking dumb.”

There’s a clatter that sounds like a plastic toothbrush being dropped into the sink, and Jimin lets out an affronted squeak. “Hey!”

Jungkook just chuckles, his shoulders quaking. “It’s true,” he says easily. “Seriously, man. You don’t have a thing to worry about. You’re gonna kick ass out there, and your class is gonna be awesome. You’re already, what, almost maxed out on the number of registrants? You’re already killing it.”

Your brother lets out an unintelligible grumble on the other side of the shower curtain, but you can still hear the smile in his voice no matter how hard he tries to mask it. “All right, you fucking sap,” Jimin says at last, his soft footsteps padding toward the door. “Hurry up and get out of there, yeah? You’re really gonna use up all the hot water.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and you immediately smack Jungkook in the middle of his stupidly toned chest. “Oh my god!” you hiss. “Are you kidding me right now, Jeon? We could’ve been caught!”

“But we weren’t,” Jungkook replies easily, shaking his dampened hair out of his face and fixing you with an indolent little smirk. “So why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me now?”

///

The next morning brings with it a whirlwind of frenzied packing, and you mentally congratulate yourself for preemptively gathering all of your belongings together last night. Minho is wandering every last inch of the house with a piece of half-eaten toast dangling from his mouth, and you can hear Taehyung in the distance asking if anyone’s seen his strawberry body wash. Jungkook is seated on the floor near the front door, his brows furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in a pout as he fights to close the zipper of his suitcase.

“Got it!” he exclaims after a few seconds, triumphant. “Where’s your stuff, Noona? I’m gonna load the car.”

You begin to stand up from your spot on the couch. “It’s in my room, let me go get—”

Jungkook is on his feet and halfway down the hall before you can even finish your sentence. He returns a moment later with your luggage in tow, shooting you a grin and a wink as he passes by. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs. “Remember?”

Of course you do. You remember like it was yesterday—because, well, it was yesterday and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You remember the moment you shared at the beach and the way his hand felt so right wrapped around your own. You remember the way you’d dropped to your knees for him so readily in the shower last night. And you definitely remember the way he’d fucked you afterward—slow and deep in the best possible way, even with your brother’s untimely interruption.

After what feels like an eternity, both cars are finally packed and ready to go. You bid goodbye to the boys who are riding with Jimin, promising to stay in touch, before climbing into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s beat-up sedan. Jungkook himself is already lounging behind the wheel, his sunglasses perched low on his nose as he fiddles with his phone. He looks up at your entrance and flashes you a smile, tapping his screen a few more times before holding it up so you can see.

“I changed your contact photo,” he says. “Like it?”

You peer at his phone, and something in your chest clenches when you see the photo he’s selected. You’re on the beach beside the volleyball net, illuminated by the setting sun. The sky is streaked through with pink and orange behind you, but through some editing magic, Jungkook has made it so that you are glowing even brighter in the foreground—with laughter etched across your face and the wind in your hair. It’s a beautiful photograph, and you tell him so, unable to contain the dangerously warm affection blossoming in your chest.

“I love it,” you say. “I usually don’t like having my photo taken, but wow. You have a talent for this.”

Jungkook’s smile grows. “I have a pretty muse,” he replies, and your cheeks warm.

The door to the backseat opens with a bang, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound. “Yo,” Yugyeom says, plopping down and buckling his seatbelt. “We ready to roll?”

Jungkook scowls and puts his phone back into his pocket. “Careful with the door, man. I need this thing to last through the summer.”

Yugyeom puts his hands up in apology, and Jungkook turns back to face the front, starting the ignition with a flick of his wrist. The engine sputters to life, and Jungkook waits for Jimin to pull out first before following after him, tailing the van out of the driveway and onto the winding road that will take you back into the city.

“Music?” you ask, gesturing at the stereo.

“Go for it,” Jungkook replies. “You want my phone so you can put on the roadtrip mix?”

“Sure.”

With the help of the upbeat music and Jungkook’s tendency to drive just a touch over the speed limit, you make it to the winding roads of Yugyeom’s neighborhood in what must be record time. “You missed the turn,” Yugyeom says lazily from where he’s sprawled across the entire backseat. “Turn left here—we can circle around and approach from the other side.”

Two more turns and a descent down a steep hill later, Jungkook manages to successfully drop Yugyeom off at his house. The drive across town takes no time at all, and before long, you’re cruising into your neighborhood, coasting past Jungkook’s driveway and straight into yours.

“Looks like we beat Jimin back,” you remark, looking at the empty spot where the van usually sits.

Jungkook hums. “Makes sense. He has more people to drop off.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

The sudden awkwardness that falls doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Clearing your throat, you reach for your purse, grabbing it from where it’s fallen to the ground near your feet. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you begin, turning to open the door.

A strong hand wraps around your wrist, forcing you back into your seat. “Is that it?” Jungkook asks, and there’s an edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. “Are you gonna go back to pretending like there’s nothing between us?”

You shake him free. “There isn’t anything between us,” you whisper. “We’re not on vacation anymore, Jungkook. We’re back home. Back to real life. We can’t do—whatever it is that we’ve been doing.”

“But you’re attracted to me,” Jungkook growls. “You like me. So why do you keep running away?”

A sigh escapes you. “Jungkook, it doesn’t matter if I like you or no—”

He interrupts before you can even finish your sentence. “Yes it does. It’s the only thing that matters.” And then he’s pulling you into his chest, taking advantage of your skewed sense of balance, and crushing his mouth to yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared so far. It’s hungry and passionate, and yet it’s tinged with something else—something that feels strangely akin to desperation. Jungkook kisses you with urgency, and it’s so raw and unbridled that it steals the very breath from your lungs and leaves you lightheaded.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word when he pulls away. Instead, he reaches down, popping the handle that opens the trunk and stepping out to pull your suitcase from within. Silently, he presses the handle into your hand.

And then he’s turning—climbing back into his car and leaving you with nothing but the memory of his lips and a whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #lia writes

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sasukelore · 4 years

Note

Cockwarming with with todorki and bakugou? I love your work. -🧠

Summary ↳ NSFW, Some of the BNHA boys like to be kept warm. Cockwarming ensues.

Authors note ↳ Weewww another bnha hc? Yes. Don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about Naruto. I’ve been meaning to write these kinda hcs for months now, so I thought ‘why not go all out?’. I added Dabi and Hawks into the mix! Hope it’ll add some extra sizzle ✨ also for some reason the character headers are saying they’re explicit idkw LMAO I hope that doesn’t cause any problems or confusion!

Character(s) ↳ Dabi Todoroki Touya , Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Keigo Takami.

Warnings ↳ NSFW. Mentions of genitals, intercourse, kinky, cockwarming, degration.

Bakugou definitely uses cockwarming to tease and put you in your place. But that’s not to say he wouldn’t enjoy it... In fact, he might even overreact, just to see you writhe and whine still on his hardened member.

Move and you’re getting your head pushed into the pillows, a string of curses about how you should’ve listened to him, and that you don’t even deserve what happens next falling from Bakugou’s mouth

Bakugou can be rough as shown above, but he’s very attentive. If he sees you becoming too overstimulated, to where it doesn’t even feel good anymore, he might be a little concerned you’re really not enjoying yourself

He might try to vanilla things if that happens, if only just a little bit.

If you try to casually sink onto him, he’ll complain about what a brat you are sure, but his hands gripping your waist tells you something else

Bakugou loathes when you think you’ve gotten one over on him. Don’t go thinking you’re better than him, stubborn Baku will bite back a raspy groan just for that- Which is exactly what you want not to happen

His little noises have your legs twitching and the slick of your arousal running down your thighs, right down onto his.

He knows what it does to you, and that’s one of the ways he’ll take back control in the situation.

Your hips will be unexpectedly jerking, because fuck, he’s got his hand around your little throat, telling you to shut up, and that he thought you were suppose to be teasing him. You weren’t doing a very good job were you?

He’s boisterously laughing at you. Bakugou your superiority complex is showing 😌😩

But all of a sudden he’s mad at you, because yeah you’re really hot on top of him like this...

Huffing and puffing. He doesn’t want you to get off but he doesn’t wanna fuck you just yet. Just wants to savor the moment for a little while

It’ll be up to you to recognize that, and to rest your head on his shoulder, nails lightly scratching his biceps

Overall, the experience will bring out the bipolar in Bakugou. You never know what you’re gonna get with this man, but I cant say that any of the consequences will have you regretting anything.

Oh. Boy. Will tease you until the day you die.

Dabi would be very amused at you, if you initiated. He’d definitely indulge you, letting you take this as far as you planned.

Don’t take advantage of his graciousness though. The atmosphere can change in an second, and Dabi will have you pinned instead.

But it’s not like he would move or anything... No, you started the game and he wants to play it out.

Oh but you wanna cum? Bad girls don’t get to, but he supposes he can make an exception. Only if you do what he says though.

Dabi’s sweet condescending demeanor frenzies little whimpers to vibrate your throat and move your sweet pretty lips

You’re practically apologizing to this man? Intimidation is radiating of his scarred skin and you’re practically shaking. Which of course, only eggs his attitude on further

Dabi is definitely a clit player. Loves to lazily flick your click right to left back and forth. He’ll do it until you’re overstimulated and until you have tears in your eyes.

Dabi will get aggressive if you relentlessly disrupt the peace by rolling your hips.

Tugging your head by your hair and pulling roughly, all while he has a bored look on his face. He’s unfazed by your brattiness.

Be prepared for warnings, because he’s using his quirk to amplify the pain when he slaps your ass.

It’s really up to you, A have purple burn marks for a couple of weeks, or B, be a good little girl and stay still. Who knew it would be this hard

He’ll love to drawl out his little pet names for you, straight into your ear. Making sure it’s more breathy than normal, you’ll make out doll and sugar emitting from his scarred chapped lips

Shouto is the only one who uses cockwarming casually on a regular basis. While studying, working, maybe even eating, as you fall asleep, etc

He’s so touched starved, he borderline obsesses over wanting you so intimately close to him.

Don’t get me wrong, Shouto respects your space. But if you don’t stop him, he’s pulling you right in front of his lap, and gestures to get on. And who would deny him seriously 😭

He’s so soft. His arms are wrapped around your torso, and his cheek is being nuzzled into your neck

Expect him to be extra extra gentle with you. Kissing your forehead and lightly humming a nursery rhyme

Yeah, really only likes it because of how close he’s able to get to you.

He won’t ever use it as a punISHment or to tease, because of how much he genuinely likes it.

This baby gets so pure istg. He’ll rub your back and ask you about your day, how pretty you look, or if you’re hungry

But sometimes this does lead to actual sex, because he mind as well right?

His mouth opens with a low moan, and if you look closely you can see drool slipping from the corners of his lips

And if you’re falling asleep on him he’ll grasp your hips to grind down on him, just to keep you awake

Shouto is literally the most blunt person when it comes to asking you. Has no shame. Might even ask you in public if you wanna sit on him when you get home

Your back will be arching for this man as he takes your hardened buds on your chest, and delicately swirls his wet tongue in circles.

He lovesss to experiment with it. Making every move he can, just to see the pretty faces you make in reaction.

Love bites will be sprawled out all over your chest and shoulders and collar bones. He won’t get tired of it at all.

The problem with him, is that he will literally try to stick his dick in you anywhere and everywhere.

Don’t sit on his lap in public.... literally don’t. He knows what he’s doing too.The thought of someone seeing you being filled up gives him a sloppy smile and a sadistic laugh.

He’s definitely more of a gentle teaser, but he loves giving his little bird praises as you cry out his name and beg for him to move

“But that defeats the whole purpose? Have some patience for me, ok baby bird?” he says with a smile on his face, seeming unbothered. But his cock is twitching inside of you and his breath is raspy and without rhythm

Lowkey, he doesn’t take you seriously! You’re just so damn cute! Keigo teases you about it regularly. His little play thing, all nice and ready for him.

He pats your head with an endearing smile as you, whine about how he’s not being fair, and how he’s being mean. And to do something already.

He’ll focus on your doughy walls and groan at the warmness throbbing on his cock. He’ll pinch your clit, might even slap it, making you clench and unclench around him

And even after you both finish, he still remains inside of you as his places sloppy kisses all over your shoulders and neck

He’s the biggest tease here and he’ll never give you a break. He’s such a sadist with you, but he knows you love it.

He knows how much you like him calling you baby bird, a song bird, an endearing ‘nugget’ (which will make you giggle)

He’ll use his feathers to send shivers through your body. Feathering your nipples, playing with your hair and brushing it behind your ear. He’ll make them so they won’t even leave you alone, always there, even if it’s annoying you.

Sometimes he’ll get really personal when you’re with him, on him. He’ll say in a faint voice how you make him feel alive, how much he loves you in much more fainter tone. It’s almost a whisper as he traces little shapes onto the lower of your back.

He’ll get super serious when he’s on the verge of sleep. Being with you like this calms him.

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Tainted

*gifs not mine*

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - this is inspired by a hc @sweater-daddiesdumbdork once wrote me and gave me a frigging murder kink. Life ruiner😡😡

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Steve saves you and plans on never letting you go again.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), kidnappings, being held hostage, murder, blood, non descriptive violence, captain kink, slight murder kink.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 6.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

One of the most amazing thing about living with you was that Steve never had to come home to an empty house. He was now responsible for you, he’d have to shoot you a text message, he had gotten pretty good at texting, thanks to your guidance, or call you, he definitely liked calling and hearing your voice better. He’ll always be old school.

You’d get that slight waver in your voice as you tried to pretend that you weren’t sad, he could see your cute little pout through the phone. And while he would never want to cause you any sort of pain, knowing that you’d be waiting for him, that you’re missing him when he’s away, made him feel wanted.

That even someone like him deserved love and happiness and a safe, boring life. That may be there was a reason he died only to wake up again in a strange new world.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t come with your own set of challenges. You were messy if anything, leaving clutter everywhere and putting off doing your dishes and laundry for days. Maybe not the most practical but definitely the cutest roommate in the world.

He’d learn to put up with it because it was worth it. Maybe, he could even learn to 'let loose' a little as people always recommended to him.

At first, he couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him. He had even impulsively bought a ring with your birthstone, he knew you were obsessed with them and astrology and maybe even dark magic. But then you surprised him with a date to an old diner and introduced him as your boyfriend to your friends.

He liked your friends quite a lot, he couldn’t really understand what they were talking about half the time. From what he could tell - by their fascination with his muscles and all the touching and squeezing to his biceps, them wanting to hear about his life before the ice - it seemed that they liked him too.

But hearing you call him that, your guy, your boyfriend, your beau, as your friend Stacey had put it, he decided that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this blissful courting period. He was rushing things.

He needed to live in the moment and just enjoy being your boyfriend for now, he had all the time in the world to wife you up - preferably not to late though.

He was so unbelievably happy, ecstatic to see you, to surprise you, his mission ending a week early he got home as soon as he could. He thought of maybe taking you to Vermont for the weekend, he had never been but Nat told him it’d be a nice little getaway and that you’d love it.

His wide smile slowly fade away as he looked at the state of his door - the latch broken. Forced entry. Somebody broke his door in. He pushed the door wide open and made his way in.

He knew what was to come next but he willed that thought away. Maybe you kicked it in yourself, maybe you forgot your keys. He kept telling himself that because he was terrified of thinking the alternative.

He stepped in as soon as he was able to shake himself out of his haze. Looking at the state of his, and your, apartment. A broken vase, and the coffee table smashed in.

Crouching down to take a closer look he saw some blood on the ceramic. Whoever did this to your home, better hope that it’s wasn’t yours.

He got up, directing his simmering rage towards his new mission. He didn’t panic, not yet, he couldn’t give himself that kind of luxury. His mind coming up with ten different to find you and make the bastards who did this pay.

NOBody can hurt the people he loves, especially his girl, and get away with it.

***

Your eyes fluttered open before scrunching shut to adjust to the harsh fluorescent light. You blinked, looking around you while squinting.

Some sort of empty grey room... a window to the side but it was dark outside. You dress sticking to your skin as your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Three men in a corner, one for them shouting at the others in a foreign language.

You felt a yip of pain radiating in your arms and then realised they were tied up behind you - strapped to a creaky chair.

You tried to shake free of them, by wiggling your wrists but then winced at the burn it caused, capturing the attention of your kidnappers.

One of them smiled at you, walking towards you.

“Finally awake, are we?” he asked in an abnormally chirpy way. “You were out for quiet some time. Did you sleep well?”

He squatted before you, you could see his face, his cold grey eyes betraying the warm smile that graced his lips. Many white scars littered over his jaw...

And then you remembered.

How you rushed home when you felt someone was following you. Locking the door, you tried to call Steve but couldn’t get through to him.

And then your stalker broke into your home. You tried to smash his head in with a vase but couldn’t really do any real damage. Everything was hazy after that. Maybe he drugged you - you couldn’t recall.

You exhaled shakily when you realised he was watching you both from the corner. You could never forget his dark hoodie and hair. Or fresh cut on his forehead. You had never so much as hurt a fly or even slapped anyone. How you managed to smash his head in you’ll never know.

You looked at the man before you again when you heard him calling out your name, his smile haltered for a moment as he looked back to your stalker.

“I’m sorry about that, he’s a rookie. He’ll be reprimanded soon enough. This wasn’t exactly our plan but we’ve decided to improvise.”

You tried to speak but with your throat and mouth dry and your mind in shock the words wouldn’t come out.

“Oh, that’s alright, don’t struggle. We don’t want anything to do with you, you’re just a normal plain Jane going about your life, aren’t you?”

You could only give him a weak nod, still trying your best to shake yourself free of your bounds without him noticing.

“That’s right. You haven’t done anything wrong, you don’t deserve to have anything bad happen to you, do you?”

You nodded again. Your breath hitched when he got closer to you, in your face, his hands planted on your bare thighs with your skirt pooled just below your hips.

“But we don’t always get what we deserve. You’re close to the Captain, that’s right Michael’s told me all about how taken he is with you. I mean... I never would’ve imagined Captain America would pick someone like you but to each their own,” he cupped your cheek, the cracks in his palm harsh against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” you asked, not looking away from him.

“I want justice. For things to be in the right order. You’ll have to suffer for it, but know that it’s for a good cause.”

“You’re wrong,” you shook your head, “he’ll come for me.”

“We’re counting on that,” he snickered.

You’re not sure what came over you, all you knew was that you wanted his disgusting hands off of you, “He’ll come for me, and then you’ll regret ever touching me.”

“Uh, I don’t know about this,” you pulled on a thread from your skirt with your right hand, your other hand in Steve’s as he held onto your waist, pulling you into his side. “It’ll be inside me?” you shuddered.

“Yes, but,” Bruce scratched his head, he was adorable like that. You never would’ve imagined him to be the hulk, a 'rage monster’. “it’s not as bad as you think. You won’t even feel it. All shield agents and Avengers have one. Except Thor, because that wouldn’t be of any use. The radius is only on earths surface. You would’ve thought that would be enough,” he chuckled.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at the chip, smaller than an acrylic nail, watching Bruce load it up.

“I know it’s not ideal, doll. But I’ll feel much better knowing I can find you, in case something goes wrong.” He kissed your temple, as you braced yourself.

“Will it hurt?” you gulped as Bruce lined the shooter or gun, by the looks of it, to your forearm.

“Just a little. You’ll barely feel it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Look at me, pup,” Steve gripped your chin, moving your head till you looked into his blue eyes, he pressed his lips to yours, massaging your tongue with his to distract you.

“Mm,” you winced and moaned into his mouth when you felt the piercing pain. It was like getting a flu shot but you had never having been a huge fan of needles either.

He released his hold on you as Bruce worked on cleaning your the blood seeping through your pierced skin. “You did good.” Steve said.

“Do I get a sucker?” You asked Bruce and he chuckled - as if you were joking, you do not joke about candy, “No I really want one.”

“Let’s keep this between us.” Steve told you both.

“Of course,” Bruce nodded, “I can keep tracker dormant till we need it but are you sure?”

“I’m not sure who I can trust.” But he knew he could trust his teammates.

You sniffled, keeping your tears at bay because really something so little shouldn’t make you cry, rubbing your hand over your wounded bicep as Bruce handed you some gummy bears.

“They’re Tony’s. He leaves snacks everywhere, it’s annoying.”

“Thank you.” You blinked up at him and offered some to Steve.

You never thought you’d need it. Until now, you were sure your friends or your mother would notice that you’ve been gone and Steve will find out and track you down. You knew he would. He had to.

He frowned, his nails digging into your cheekbones, pluckering your lips, “Where’s all that confidence coming from?” he quirked a curious brow up, “He’ll walk right in and pay for everything he’s done,” he snorted.

“You’re way underprepared to take someone like him on,” shut up, shut up, shut up, why the fuck are you egging him on? “He’s strong, he’s a survivor.” Even without the serum, he survived an abusive household, being bullied, being sick, and you knew how protective he could be. To the point where it was downright irritating.

“We’ve got all the time in the world to prepare, you should be worrying about yourself,” he spat.

You had always been bold, even in the most inappropriate of situations. Like when you lectured a boy for over an hour on respecting boundaries for throwing spitballs at you, in kindergarten. Steve even said that he fell for that ‘spunk' in you.

‘Well-behaved women rarely make history’ your mother had told you.

And really, you liked that about yourself as well. You liked that you found a man that would encourage that side of you instead of calling you ‘difficult’ or ‘bossy’.

However, you immediately regretted everything you had said. Not because it was untrue, but because your captor took out a sharp pocket knife, a dark glint in his eyes.

“We only need you alive,” he said as you gulped, “I suppose, it wouldn’t matter if you’re missing a finger or two.”

You frantically shook your head, choking on a sob. “No,” you pleaded, “you’ll... he will find me and you will - ”

“Go to prison at best. It’s a risk we’re all willing to take,” he put the blunt end of the knife against your cheek, “We have to do something to kill the time.”

You couldn’t breath, your heart hammering in your chest, what if he doesn’t come for you? You won’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t like you could protect yourself, at least in this situation, all you could do was wait for him.

You shut your eyes, and braced yourself for the pain. Except... it never came, you simply heard someone fall down, some sort of clattering sound.

Upon opening your eyes you saw one of his friends face down before your in the corner, the other guy, your lovely stalker, drawing out his gun, looking at the only window to your left. You swore you a saw a glimpse of a flying disk knocking your stalker out.

The man before you cursed under his breath, “Get. Up. Come on!” he ordered.

“Yeah, if I could do that I probably would’ve,” you snarked, still trying to get your aching wrists free.

You barely even registered - who could only be your Captain - sneaking up behind him, snapping his neck with his hands in a matter of seconds. He collapsed on the ground and you could finally see Steve.

His clenched jaw and cold eyes softened up on seeing you, you couldn’t help but let out a sob as you realised you were going to be free.

“You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he soothed you, kissing your forehead before swiftly free your hands.

You stood up on wobbly legs, holding onto his arms for support, “Steve,” you breathed out, “you came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he sighed, gently pushing your face against his chest as he hugged you close to him. “As if I’d ever abandon you,” he smoothed a hand over your back and decided to not dwell on your comment. This wasn’t about him, you were in shock.

“I was so scared,” you sniffled, “he said, he - ” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you broke down in a fit of sobs and hiccups.

“You’re safe now,” he promised.

“You - did you kill him?” you pushed away from him to look up at his face so you could take him in.

You had never seen him in his uniform. Only ever seeing him on the news but he had his cowl on and a suit that was much more on brand for ‘Captain America’ than the darker one he had on now. It made him look bigger - if that was even possible. Bigger than the shield now strapped to his back.

His usually clean shaven face had the faintest shadow to it while his hair was slicked back. He looked beautiful, so soft and innocent, definitely not someone who’s capable of hurting anyone.

“He hurt you,” he replied, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised wrists, “and so many others, he got what was coming to him.”

“You knew him?”

“Yes. He got away the last time we tried to catch him - but we don’t have to talk about that right now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m just thirsty and I really want to lay down,” you murmured, resting your head on the star in the middle of his chest.

He pressed a hand to his ear, letting his team know that he had found you. You vaguely saw agents clad in black gear storm the room.

“We did a sweep of the place. No one else is here,” Natasha said. “How you doing?” and then frowned when you didn’t respond.

“She’s tired. It’s okay, love,” he kissed your temple, snaking a hand under your knees and picking you up with ease.

You weakly nodded, wrapping your hands around his neck, glad to be babied by him because you didn’t have the strength to stand.

“They didn’t give you anything to eat?” Nat scoffed as you shook your head.

“How long have I been here?” you looked at Steve, struggling to stay awake.

“A day and a half. We’ll get you fixed up,” he swore, carrying you towards the quinget.

“Where are we?” you nuzzled your nose against the rough kevlar of his suit.

“Bermuda,” he said.

“Oo, I’ve always wanted to come here... just maybe not like this,” you chuckled but Steve didn’t find it all that amusing. You cupped his cheek in your palm, hoping to maybe calm him down a bit before falling asleep.

***

You vaguely heard a familiar voice calling out your name, you’d recognise it anywhere, it was one of your favorites, one you’d known your entire life.

“Mom?” you muttered, opening your eyes and looking around the room to look for her. You smiled when you saw her sitting on a chair just beside your bed, the faint, annoying beeping told you that you were probably in a hospital.

“Hey there, honey,” she smiled back at you, her eyes misty as she pressed her lips to your cheek. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

“I’m sorry,” you tried to sit up as she fluffed your pillow up to support you. “I was... um... kidnapped.” Saying it out loud made it feel so ridiculous. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought.

“Yes, Steve filled us in on everything. So, Captain America, huh?” she raised her brows.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously. Doing a once over to your large, mostly white room to look for him. He wouldn’t just up and leave you, would he?

“How long has it been going on?” she asked.

“Um, three or four months?” you winced when you realised just how much trouble you were in.

“And, you live with him. Linda filled us in on everything. You’re quitting your job too now.”

“It’s - it’s not as bad as it sounds...”

“Never mind that, you need to rest. Then you won’t have to worry about all this. I’m taking you home with me. And you’re never coming back here again.”

“What? No! I still have over two years of school left.”

“You can do it online! You can find just as a good a job in Queens.”

“No! I’m not coming,” you whined.

“Well, you’re not living with a man you barely know either.”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door. A doctor entering, apologising for disturbing you and Steve right behind her. He still hadn’t changed out of his suit.

He stood at the end of your bed, squeezing your foot to let you know he was there for you as your mother glared daggers at him.

“Looks like you’re doing good. Blood sugars back to normal as well...” the doctor said, “You’re free to go home.”

“Really?” you smiled. So done with everything. Sleeping in your own bed sounded like heaven.

“Yes, let us know if you need anything.” She looked over your chart again and then left.

“Good then, you can come home now.”

“No! I’m going to my apartment in Manhattan, the one I share with Steve.” You rolled your eyes. Pleading Steve to back you up with your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Um, ma'am, you can come stay with us, if you like.”

He held your mothers gaze, to let her know that he was serious and earnest.

He knew he wasn’t perfect by any means. He had a million flaws and cuts that ran deeper than anybody would ever know but he always thought, or maybe arrogantly assumed, that if nothing else he was someone ‘you take home to mama’ as Clint had once put it. He thought that your parents, like most, would like him. That he’d easily get their blessing to be with their daughter. He was known to be America’s golden boy after all.

But your mother had ripped him a new one as soon as she saw him. Accusing him of abusing his power to woo you. That you were here because of him. That he’s not worthy of you.

And all he could do was stand there and take it because everything she had said was the truth. He didn’t deserve you, you were captured and possibly traumatised because of him.

At the same time, he couldn’t just let you go. Not till he gets to the bottom of who had hurt you and makes sure that you’re safe from now on.

“No, thank you.” She scoffed, looking back at you and shaking her head. “What are you doing with your life?”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes but being with Steve definitely isn’t one,” you looked over to him, he looked just as tired as you, “I just want to go home. My home with Steve.”

“Fine, I’ve always let you make your own decisions.” she sighed, finally giving in.

“And I’ve never disappointed you.”

“That’s debatable,” she snorted, “I’ll come check on you tomorrow then. Maybe send me your address. You know? Something you should’ve done months ago.” She returned to glaring at Steve.

“I’ve only been living with him for a month!” you tried to defend yourself.

***

“I can take off my own clothes, Stevie,” you giggled, him kneeling before you to help you out of the sweets the med bay gave you. Your dress was dirty and ragged now. “I really liked that dress though. I don’t have many like it. You think we can get it back?”

“Maybe, I’ll see what I can do, doll,” he kissed your bare thigh before rolling your panties down your legs.

“You’re kinda dirty too,” you remarked, sniffing him. He didn’t smell bad, as if Steve would ever smell bad to you. Just a bit of gunpowder, like that of firecrackers, a bit pungent instead of his normal piney and woodsy scent.

“Thank you,” he deadpanned before cracking a smile, “I was just excited to see you. Or I would’ve showered before coming home and then I didn’t get a chance to.”

He worked on unbuttoning your shirt He insisted on you getting a button up instead of a t-shirt considering how sore your arms were from being toed up for so long. Tied up... like an animal.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, caressing his cheek, “come back to me.”

“Sorry, I’m just... I don’t know,” he shook his head. He couldn’t let you know the guilt and despair he felt, you’d end up comforting him instead of the other way around. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah. Still can’t believe any of this was real.” Running your hands up and down his suit, the feel of the material almost soothing to touch. “You wanna shower with me?”

“Don’t know, doll. That showers pretty small.”

He did have a pretty generous salary but opted to live in a more modest apartment, he never took more than he needed anyway, with a small shower. Not too small, but definitely not big enough for you both.

“We’ll make do, come on. I’ll make you squeaky clean.”

He took over ten minutes to get rid of the suit. You watched intently as he removed more latches than you could count.

“Is it bulletproof?” you wanted to know.

“Yes. But probably not as good as a vest. I’ve never been shot so I wouldn’t know.” He answered, taking off his undershirt.

“It’s funny because I always thought y’all were naked under there,” you chuckled, and then your jaw dropped as he took off his briefs.

You had never seen his cock while it was soft before. He was always more than excited when you got to him. It was amazing how pretty he looked either way.

“You and so many other people,” he almost shuddered at the thought of having been asked the same question so many times.

After making sure the water was hot enough, you both stood under it.

You took some of the lavender wash you had bought from lush, squeezing it on your sponge. Steve, bless him, was amazing at so many things. Shopping - it seemed was not one of them. All he had in his bathroom was a bar of soap, one toothbrush and a vintage straight razor.

Which just won’t do for you, so you took it upon yourself to stock the whole place up with your favorite stuff. The lavender being Steve’s favorite, you remembered how flustered you got when he told you that you smelled good. And then tried to explain that you always smell good while turning redder than a tomato.

You did his front, asking him to bent his neck a bit so you could wash his hair because he was almost a foot taller than you. You were about to do his legs, you’d take any excuse to feel up his thick thighs but he told you he’d do the rest himself.

Taking the sponge from you, he ran it under some water, working on cleaning you thoroughly. Under your arms, your breasts, your stomach, between your legs and then your legs.

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen - he knew that since the moment he had met you. But something about washing you up like that felt so intimate even though there was nothing erotic about it.

After washing you thoroughly he wrapped you up in a towel, “My cute lil' burrito,” he booped your nose.

You puffed your cheeks out, you weren’t sure if you liked that nickname. Observing just how gentle he was with you, helping you into a cotton nightie, as opposed to drying himself off hastily and carelessly before pulling some sweats and briefs on.

“Don’t wear a shirt,” you pleaded, he looked amazing shirtless, but that wasn’t the only reason, you really liked feeling his skin on hours, pressing kissing on his perfect, smooth, golden skin, ”pretty please.” Right now, he’d give you anything you wanted and you intended on milking that as much as you can.

“Alright, doll,” he replied, pulling you up in his arms again as if you were his bride, as you giggled so sweetly, “now, what would you like to eat? No take out, it has to be healthy. And remember my culinary skills are limited,” he said, carrying you to the living room and putting you on the couch as he started working in the kitchen.

“Stevie, I’m not hungry. Well, that’s not true, I’d like some ice cream,” fluttering your lashes at him, “Mint chocolate chip? I’m pretty sure we have some.”

“Of course, puppy,” you smiled, at the prospect of getting a sweet treat and the nickname, “as soon as you eat something.” He added and you huffed in annoyance.

He whipped up a sandwich for you, two for him because he was starving, some peach iced tea so you wouldn’t eat his ear off while complaining.

You only picked at your food, giving more than half of it to him. You truly didn’t feel like eating, instead craving some cuddles with him.

You tried striking up a conversation with him multiple times. Not because you didn’t like silence. You did when it came to him, you could go hours without talking and it would feel so serene and perfect. You never had to talk just for the sake of it when you were with him.

But you had come to read Steve pretty well. He seemed distant and closed off. The air around you both thick with tension. You tried to ease it while telling him about how brave you were while quitting and didn’t cry at all, how Tony dropped by and was apparently stalking you - which was a bad idea because it seemed to make him angry, clench his jaw tight, his brows furrowed as he placed your plates in the sink.

Unsure if you had done something wrong or were mean to Tony, who was technically his boss, you twiddled with your fingers, “Um... I - I’m sorry,” you stuttered, trying to hold back tears. Spending the night at your mom’s house sounded like the better choice now.

“Hm?” he looked back at you, he could do the dishes tomorrow, “what for?”

“I shouldn’t have been snarky with Tony. I know he’s your boss and all that but he’s kinda cocky... And I got really mad when I found out he did like a ‘background check' on me. I mean I get why he would but still. I can apologize to him.”

“No no,” he shook his head, kneeling before you, taking your hands in his, “you misunderstood, love. I’m not mad at you, I could never REALLY be mad at you. It’s Tony I’m angry with, he went behind my back, ambushed you at work.”

“To be fair, you did the same when you asked me out,” you snickered as a blush crept up his neck.

“Right.” He finally cracked a genuine smile placing feather light kisses on your knuckles and the to the bandages on your hands.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails.

“It’s probably better if we don’t talk about it,” he said, laying his head on your lap. Your slight scratching massaging his never-resting head.

“I think we should. My mom said I don’t know you. And to some extent, she is right. I don’t. Maybe I’m just imagining things but... sometimes it feels like you’re holding back.”

He gathered enough courage to look up at you, your almond shaped eyes looking down at his and he knew that he could talk to you about anything. He did. But there will always be that little voice that tells him that he shouldn’t. He would only trouble you.

“Don’t you pride yourself on being honest?” you caressed his scratchy cheek.

He snorted. He really was dense enough to think he was the perfect son-in-law package.

“I just, the way you looked at me, when I killed that man, I’m afraid that you’re scared of me now. That’s the last thing I want. It’s my worst nightmare really.” He leant into your touch.

“Steve, that wasn’t because I’m scare of you. It was because I’m fond of you. You were so strong and brave and you saved me. I liked being the damsel in distress more than I thought,” He chuckled at that, his doubts a bit relieved, “that’s... not all though.” You murmured.

“What is it?” he wanted to know.

“You, um, the fact that you would do that for me... it’s just. I never thought anyone would love me that much.”

“I only regret doing it in front of you. I’m sorry you had to see that or go through any of that.”

“I’m not a child, Steve,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not, but you’re you. You’re pure and an angel. I - I’m tainted - tainted by blood, tainted by war - ”

“Steve, that’s not true. You’re not, you’re the pure-est person I know. War and - that doesn’t define you.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you knew about all the things I have done, sweetheart.” The sweet nickname he had for you, which now he used in a patronising tone, “I let my best friend die. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What’re you talking about?” you frowned. You heard about Bucky from him and your history textbooks but you don’t remember reading anything like that.

“It’s... something I’m not ready to get into.” He put his forehead on your knee. He knew you loved him but there was only so much baggage you would be willing to accept.

“Okay. You can take your time and tell me if and when you’re ready, baby.” You went back to idly playing with his, “But I need you to know that I love you. Nothing you could ever say will change that. To think that... for a second I thought that you wouldn’t come for me.”

He snapped his head back up, “What?”

“I thought, that you’d be busy with your mission. You wouldn’t even find out I was missing or... you just wouldn’t care enough to come yourself. I mean, I knew you would come, obviously. But you have other more important work...”

“No,” he shook his head, “How could you ever think anything's more important to me than you and your life?”

“Yeah, I was being stupid.”

“You can be a bit silly sometimes, doll.” He nuzzled your tummy, making you giggle. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I was so scared I’d never see you again,” he confessed against your nightgown.

“That’d be a bit hard to do. Keeping an eye on me like that. But if it means I get to spend more time with you then I’m down.”

You convinced Steve to let you have some ice cream. He only let you have half a scope, telling you that you’d have trouble sleeping otherwise.

“I’ve been sleeping for most of the last two days.” You tried to argue but it was hard to change his mind once he had it set on something.

You both brushed your teeth together and he stared at you as you went about your night-time skincare routine.

Cleanse, serum, moisturize, sleep mask.

All he did was wash his face and he still looked fucking perfect.

He stayed true to his word, sticking by your side to the point where you had to kick him outside to have some privacy to pee in peace. He was right there waiting for you when you opened the door.

Finally, you were in your cosy bed. Light’s off and cuddled tight with your boyfriend. Your stuffed unicorn and your Captain America plushie to your other side.

With your legs tangled together, you rubbed your feet up and down his legs. Which were unfortunately covered with his sweats.

“Steve,” you whined.

“Yes?”

“Take off these damn pants. They’re hurting my skin. So friggin' prickly.”

“Sorry, doll. I know how precious your skin is.” He sounded like he was mocking you but he followed, pushing his pants away.

“Good?” he asked holding you close to him again.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed against his naked chest. “Let’s sleep like this everyday, please.”

“Sure.” He replied. He liked being a ‘human furnace' for you.

He wasn’t going to fall asleep. Not after everything that happened. He hadn’t slept well in the past week but he was afraid that if he’d shut his eyes for a single moment and you’d be gone. This time, he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find you.

He hadn’t been to crunch or even prayed in a while. Losing his faith a long time ago after all the terrible things he had seen. But he had prayed when he came back found his home to be wreck. He prayed that you’d come back to him because there were some things he just could not control. Nobody could.

After a while he lowly whispered your name. “Are you awake?” he asked.

It was silly but he missed you. Even though you were laying right next to him in his arms - the safest place you could be.

“Yeah. I can’t sleep. Even though I’m so tired.” You yawned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” You snorted. “You’re not a good liar, Steven.”

“Can I ask you something? And you can say no if you want I won’t mind.”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Can I, um, have you? I just need to feel you, sweetheart. After everything – I need to know you’re really here.” he was cut off by your lips crashing on his.

You winced when your teeth clamped together but he soothed your upper lip by nipping at it with his tongue.

“Steve,” you panted as he broke awake, shifting under the sheets and pushing the helm of your gown up.

He placed quick open mouthed kisses all over your thighs, over your stretch marks, spreading your thighs further to accommodate his broad shoulders, he made sure to check in with you again.

All you did was push his head towards your heat, begging him to eat your pussy - as if he needed to be told twice.

Swirling and spreading your glistening juices of arousal around your weeping lips, he dove in for his prize. Drawing patterns on your bundle of nerves before sucking at it harshly, he plunged his tongue inside. Lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hands down by your hips.

You kept desperately pushing your hips up, wanting more. Arching your back up and holding onto his hands tightly as he lightly grazed his teeth over your clit.

“Say my name, sweetheart,” he demanded against your heat, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

Your orgasm washing over you in waves, electrifying every nerve in your body as you clamped your legs around his head, holding onto him.

He kept lapping you up through it, taking everything you’d give him.

He loved worshipping you - spending as much time as he could between your legs - because you were his goddess but right now, he just needed to feel you.

He climbed up the bed, hovering over you, he pushed two thick fingers inside you mouth till the second knuckle.

“Get them nice and wet, doll.” He instructed.

You moaned around him, making loud suckling noises, “Yesh, Captain,” it came out muffled, what with your mouth full.

“Captain?” he smirked. You had only ever called him that as a joke, he never knew being called that in a salacious way could stroke a fire inside him. Making him them painfully hard in the confines of his tight briefs. He pulled his fingers out of you, pushing his hand down till it was between your legs. Nudging your entrance with them.

“Sorry, it slipped out.” You were too unabashed to feel guilty.

He scoffed, “Say it again.”

Pushing his fingers inside you. Pumping them at a fast pace before you even had a second to think. It was desperate and fast so unlike how it is usually between you both. He needed to be inside you but your needs would always come before his.

“Captain,” you mewled, chewing on your lower lip and holding onto his face. You couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but you still need to look at him. “I told them my Captain would come for me. And you did...” he swallowed your screams with his mouth as you clenched around his fingers.

“That’s right,” he groaned, sucking your slick off of his fingers, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll do anything for you.”

Shaky fingers working on taking his cock out of the hard confines of his uncomfortable underwear. He didn’t waste a single second before sinking inside you, as deep as he could. He moaned into your neck, “So fucking tight, doll. Like you were made for me,” he bit your neck.

Drawing his hips back he thrusted inside you, brushing against your g-spot, making you keen.

He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows he looked down at your hooded eyes. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yes, it’s just so good,” as if to prove it you clenched around his length, to make him feel all of you just as he was doing to you.

He groaned at that, his balls already tightening, aching for release, “What’s the safe word?”

“Mm... buttercream.”

“That’s right, good girl,” he cooed as you whimpered at his praise as he withdrew his hips again, loving you in a slow soft way.

Pushing your gown up till it was above your breasts - he didn’t really have the patience to properly take it off. He sucked a spot just above your breast, so you’d remember his love every time you looked at it. Your nipples pebbled and goose bumps painted your skin, with your cunt tight around him he knew you were close.

Wrapping his mouth around one bud, He pulled and pinched at the other. He stopped his ministrations, he needed to look at you as you climaxed. To know that you needed him at least half as much as he needed you.

Your face scrunched up as you met your bliss, your nails drawing blood from shoulders - not that he cared in the slightest.

His hips retracting and thrusting as he lost all sense of rhythm and finesse chasing his end as you laid boneless beneath him. He kept fucking into you, filling you to the brim.

He heaved above you, making sure not to collapse on top of you. Reluctantly he pulled himself out of you.

Pulling you close to him, his lips pressed up against the crown of your head, he whispered sweet nothings to you. “My brave girl.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “You’re so strong, sweetheart.”

“Stronger than the hulk?”

“Yes, definitely,” he replied, tracing the bandages wrapped around your wrists. “Now try to get some sleep.”

“Oh, I’ll sleep alright. Thanks to you.” You giggled.

***

tags will be in the reblog.

this was my longest fic!i know it wasnt the best conclusion to something i drew outover 4 chapters but its the best i could do. sorry for weird format tumblrs mad i had too much fun lol. comments and reblogs are really appreciated!!

#the donut series #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #berry writes

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binnieboyswhore · 3 years

Text

I’m in (gangster Han)

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem Reader Genre: Smut Word count: 1,905 Warnings: Possessiveness, Oral (M receiving), Cursing, Choking (I think this is it but if you find something else that needs a warning please let me know!) Authors note: So this is something I wrote for another fandom I’m in a few years ago but I loved the idea of making it Han so I did. This is my favorite thing i’ve ever written so please praise me my God complex needs it! Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)

You light your cigarette, take a drag. Looking across the bar full of bandanas and leather jackets, he’s still not here, you think to yourself looking through the bar for the fluffy haired boy. Meanwhile some big nosed guy tries to talk to you about how he used to be the leader of some group or something.

“Look dude,” you flick the ash from your cigarette, “does it look like I care?” He still continues to talk unphased by what you said.

The door to the bar opens and you catch a glimpse of his hands and you know it’s him. Everyone is greeting him as he makes his way to you.

“Hey good looking” you hear him whisper in your ear and you can’t help but smile from ear to ear.

You turn around, “You don’t look too bad yourself, handsome.” You lean forward wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and as you lean in to kiss him he notices the man sitting next to you.

“Who the fuck are you?” He says directly at the man you’ve been ignoring.

“I’m Chan.” The man says, turning and putting his hand out for Jisung to shake. He just looks at the man a little sideways.

“The fuck are you doing sitting next to her?” He leans his head your way, you can only focus on the shift of his hair to not make you more nervous for the fight that ight break out.

“I was just trying to have a chat, sorry. Didn’t realize she was taken.” The man spits back at Jisung. He looks as if he’s about to charge at him so you stand up rather quickly pressing your hand against his chest pushing him back a bit. You can feel the anger radiating off his body.

You press yourself against him, “Hey forget about this guy, I NEED you right now Ji.” You whine moan into his ear.

Taking his hand you drag him back to the bathroom locking the door. He looks at you taking you in, your little leather skirt and fishnets, your cherry red crop top and your braided blue hair.

“Fuck” you hear him whisper under his breath as he licks his bottom lip. He pushes you up against the counter grabbing behind your neck and roughly kissing you, no rhythm, all passion. He bits your lip and you yelp out at the unexpected pain, he places his hands under your thighs grabbing so you can sit on top of the counter. He starts to kiss along your jaw placing his right hand around your throat adding pressure while kissing down your neck you grab ahold of his wrist and moan, “holy shit baby” he says between breathes “you look so fucking hot right now.” He slides his left hand under your skirt “no underwear?” You shake your head no, biting your bottom lip.

“Fuck you want me so bad don’t you.” He yanks on your braids.

“Yes Ji yes I want you.” You let out really fast the anticipation wearing you out.

He takes his fingers and rips your fishnets between your legs, you let out a moan at the sound and the bit of friction. You grab a hold of Jisungs bicep to help keep yourself up, he looks right at you as you feel his fingers slide into you. His face mimicking yours, both of your eyebrows furrow. He starts to do the “come here” motion and you throw your head back moaning out “Fuck”

“I didn’t come here to play baby.” He says as he furthers his fingers in you hitting right where you’re g-spot is. You start shaking a bit just at the anticipation of it all, you grab the back of his neck pressing your foreheads together, jutting your hips out closer to making him hit you deeper. You let out a small moan as your noses glide over each other, “fuck baby.”

He speeds his motions and it isn’t long till you’re crumbling under his touch. You feel your orgasm nearing so you grab onto his flexed forearm and let go around his fingers.

Your eyes rolling back from enjoyment, your body shaking as you dig your nails into his flesh wherever you can grip on to. He exhales a harsh breath, holding back a whiny moan. You work your way through it on his fingers, once your leg stops shaking you immediately attach your lips to his, “fuck Ji that felt so good” you said between kisses.

“Well these babies haven’t failed yet” he says sticking them in his mouth and sucking on them. You were so sensitive you could’ve gotten off again right then and there just off of the visual not to add the popping sound his mouth made when he pulled them out.

“You know the rules, knees.” He snaps at you.

You slide off the counter trying to gain your balance, he offers his hand to help steady you. You kiss his cheek to say thank you. You bend down on your knees, undoing his belt rather slowly, watching the horny and anger battle behind his sex blown pupils.

You look up at him watching him watch you. He grabs your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “You’re such a pretty little girl baby” he says, sticking his thumb in your mouth grabbing onto your jaw, “you’re my pretty girl right?” He tightens his grip a bit. You shake your head, “Sorry I can’t hear you baby.”

“Yes, I’m yours. Just yours.” You said his thumb still gripping your mouth.

“That’s right baby, you’re all mine.” He crouched down a bit to kiss you. You go back to undoing his belt and pants your jaw a little sore from his grip that he had. You shimmy his pants down his thighs and already see the tent that is formed in his boxers. You glide your hand over his boxers, he winces back. You push his boxers down his cock now in your face, you lick your hand to add moisture and lightly grab a hold of him. He lets out a low moan as you pump him. His jaw visibly clenching from the ecstasy. You start to take him in your mouth slowly and you can feel him being irritated, “Baby hurry or you’ll be punished.” The thought of him bending you over his knee made you almost not listen but you decided to speed up.

You take him as far as you could in your mouth, your eyes watering at the feeling of his dick buried in your throat. He grabs the back of your head as he starts to thrust himself in and out of your mouth. A few deep guttural moans slip past his lips. You suck your cheeks in, feeling him move against them, looking up at him looking down on you.

You hear a moan, borderline whimper, fall as he bites his bottom lip. He takes the back of your head forcing you forward and taking all of him in. Your nose flesh with his pelvic bone. You feel his warm cum slide down your throat as he falls apart above you a mess of curse words and compliments. Your face is covered in tears and saliva. Standing up he wipes the side of your mouth sticking his thumb in your mouth once he is done. You stare at him trying to recompose himself when all of a sudden you’re being pushed and bent over the counter. You throw your hands out to grab onto the mirror a bit to stabilize yourself when in the reflection you see Jisung tear your fishnets even more and bend down and bite your ass cheek. That’s gonna leave a mark. You scream out in enjoyment as he wraps your braids around his fist pulling your head back.

“God you look so pathetic like this,” he whispers in your ear, smirking at you in the mirror, “it makes me so hard baby.” He kisses right below your ear.

A whine slips from your lips. He throws one of your legs on the counter to get a good angle. He then lines himself up with your entrance and plunges himself in you letting a throaty moan escape your mouth well a grunt comes from Jisungs swollen lips. His ring clad fingers reach around you and wrap around your throat and you could’ve come right then and there. He sets a sporadic pace lighting your vagina on fire with pleasure. Every time you close your eyes Jisung puts more pressure on your throat and yells at you to open your eyes so you can “see how beautiful you look in such an euphoric state.” He starts to grunt louder as he says, “you close baby?” And reaches his hand around your hips and starts to aggressively rub on your clit.

You shake your head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you” he says and stops rubbing your clit.

You frantically speak up your voice a bit hoarse “yes Ji, yes I’m close” he goes back to what he was doing. The harsher he rubbed the harder he pounded into you and the hotter his breath got on your back. “Can I come Ji? Please” you moan knowing if you didn’t ask it was going to end badly for you.

“Beg” he demands

“Please Hannie,” you let the soft nickname slip causing his hips to stutter a bit, “I need to come, I wanna come all over your cock please baby” you whimper out trying to keep your orgasm at bay.

“Fuck, yes baby girl come” and with that you came undone and your walls clenched, both his hands came around to your waist to help steady himself as he came inside you.

The warm feeling added to the ecstasy filled moment as you became a whimpering mess on top of the bathroom counter, your body shaking from the tremors of your orgasm. Jisung removes himself from you and re-dresses himself. You slide your leg off the counter and lay there collecting yourself when Jisung just rips your stockings off your legs so you don't have to go back to the bar with them looking like that.

You stand up fixing yourself when Jisung holds onto you just in case your legs were wobbly, “I’m fine babe thank you” you said to reassure him.

“Okay,” he lets go “oh I almost forgot to tell you, I’m officially in.” He rolls up the sleeve to show off the freshly tattooed dagger. Referring to the gang he’s been trying to get into for the last year.

You stare at it not knowing how to feel about it, “it’s pretty” is all you have to say on the subject because you know how excited he is. “Why don’t we head home and we can take a bath and get clean.” He offers to you.

“Or I was thinking we could head home and go for round two.” You say while smoothing out your skirt so nobody could see up it as you guys leave.

He smiles so big he gets the eye crinkles “fuck I love you” he says cupping your face in his hand and kissing you rather roughly.

Grabbing his leather jacket and putting it around your shoulders he grabs your hand, “let’s getting a fucking move on then before i destroy you in this bathroom.”

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bokutosworld · 3 years

Text

over again | iwaizumi hajime

pairing: iwaizumi x gn!reader word count, genre: 1.8k words, angst + fluff in the beginning. warnings: mentions of death, car accident. summary: he blames himself for the past but you help him take the first step to moving on. a/n: @ricerice i promised i’d tag you in an iwa angst so hope you enjoy this hahah

—

“Iwaizumi!”

Who’s there?

“Hajime!”

Huh?

“Babe!”

Iwaizumi’s blinded by the harsh sunlight when he opens his eyes. Where am I? He hears people laughing in the distance, children running about, and waves breaking at the shore. With an outstretched hand, he feels the texture of hot, grainy sand beneath his touch. The next thing he finds is the warmth of another person’s hands.

“Hajime, get up! This is no time for sleeping under the shade.”

He comes to his senses and his vision clears to make out a familiar face. You were hovering over his body, blocking the sun from his eyes and he could see how you were smiling so happily at him.

He gets up from his lying position and cups your cheeks, thumbs grazing your face so tenderly as if he’s afraid to break you. He tugs you for an embrace, his hold tightening for every second that passes.

Worried, you wrap your arms around his torso. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

And that’s when you feel it. Tears streaming down his face and leaving a trail on your neck. Your heart quickens and you pull back to see him silently sobbing.

“Why are you crying?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Because even he doesn’t know the reason why he suddenly broke down. It came out of nowhere, his chest constricting at the sight of you and the overwhelming feeling of longing and desperation.

You’re wiping his tears and he catches your palm, bringing it to his lips. Finally, he smiles, “Nothing’s wrong. Shall we go take a swim?”

—

Is this dèjá vu?

Iwaizumi could swear that he’s been in this exact spot in the exact same time with you. Like he was experiencing it all over again. If he dug around in his mind, he could pull out a similar memory where you were enjoying the feel of the water in your feet and calling out for him to join.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

He decides to stop overthinking and relaxes his tense body. Approaching you with a smile, he surprises you when he places an arm under your knees and your waist and lifts you with ease.

“Hajime,” you exclaim, hitting his biceps.

He spins the both of you, the water splashing around before letting you fall in the water. You’re completely soaked, hair sticking to the sides of your face when you come up to breathe and Iwaizumi’s bending over his knees as he laughs.

The thing about Iwaizumi is that he has a beautiful laugh, his eyes often turning into crescents and the sound is music to your ears. It’s rare for him to openly show emotions unlike others you know who wear their hearts on their sleeves. You’d have to be someone he was comfortable with, someone he trusts before getting the privilege of seeing the rarest sides of him.

And to Iwaizumi, you have always been that person.

You grab his hand and pull him so he could join you in the cool seawater. It takes a moment before he comes up for air and when he does, he’s grinning with a mischievous look in his eyes. You feel his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your lips are only a hair’s breadth away.

“Are you happy right now?” He asks.

Humming, you grab at his shoulders and press your forehead to his. “I am.”

“Good,” he says before leaning for a kiss. It’s gentle, it’s passionate, and it captures a million loving thoughts and emotions that neither of you could ever translate in words. You feel him smile into the kiss before breaking apart.

“You taste salty,” you tease to hide how he has just literally taken your breath away.

He chuckles and in your closeness, you feel his heart racing. “That’s your fault. You nearly drowned me in the water.”

Rolling your eyes, you hit at his bare chest and make a move towards dry land.

“I’m hungry! Let’s go get something.”

As he watches you go back to your lounge chair and grab a towel to dry off, the scene before him blurs. He shakes his head, blinks once and twice before you were fading right in front of him. He calls your name and catches you look back at him before all he could see was black.

—

When he comes to his senses, he finds himself laying with his head on your lap. Your fingers are softly brushing through his hair, the gesture ushering him in a state of euphoria and he thinks could go back to sleep.

But then he remembers what happened and he’s up.

“You’re awake.” He senses something was different with how the corners of your lips turned upwards solemnly. Your eyes glossed with something he couldn’t describe.

“How long was I out?”

“Well, you missed lunch. And we’re the only ones left here,” you inform him. Your gaze looking past the vast ocean.

Iwaizumi turns to where you were looking and he’s mesmerized. By now, the sun has set and the sky was turning from clear blue to warm orange hues. He looks at you and his heart jumps, admiring the glow of your sun-kissed skin.

“Have you realized it yet?” You break the silence.

What are you talking about?

You glance at Iwaizumi with a sad smile. When he doesn’t answer, you take it as your cue to continue speaking. “Do you remember when we took our first trip to the beach right after we graduated from high school?”

He listens.

“It was our first out-of-town date as a couple and I was so nervous to be alone with you,” you chuckle at the distant memory. “But you made it easy. You were such a gentleman, you never made me uncomfortable, and every moment with you felt natural.

“That day, I had the most fun that I’ve had in my years of existence,” you turn to him, eyes boring deep in his and you smile. “That was my favorite memory of us.”

As if a lightbulb flashed in his head, Iwaizumi finally makes sense of what’s happened. Why the earlier events seemed so familiar to him.

Because, indeed, they have already happened.

He feels something in the pit of his stomach and he averts his gaze, looking at anywhere but you. He observes how the clouds look superficial, how the waters before him look almost imaginary, how you look alive.

His voice is trembling when he asks, “This is all a dream, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

And for the second time, he cries. Oh god. Of course, this can’t be real. Of course, this was all a figment of his imagination. He’s been praying for this opportunity to spend time with you again.

“It’s good to see you, Hajime.”

Because you weren’t in his life anymore.

He crumbles in front of you, shoulders shaking violently as he weeps for you. He’s saying something but it’s incomprehensible. He reaches for your hand and you take it, feeling the strong grip on your palm.

“Why?” I have longed for you for days, months. “Why show yourself only now?”

“You’re still suffering. And I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry,” he mutters repeatedly.

You cradle his shaking body. “Shh, Hajime. Stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

He remembers the day it happened so vividly in his mind. It was unpredictable and it happened in a blink of an eye—he could still hear the tires screeching, could still feel the impact of the collision, could still picture himself with you inside that car when it went flying across the street.

Despite the immediate assistance from an ambulance, the doctors at the hospital declared you as dead on arrival. And when he woke up three days after the incident, he couldn’t believe the news he was hearing. He wanted everything so badly to be a bad dream, wanted to be able to hold you and hear your voice one more time.

Losing you felt like he lost a part of himself too.

“I miss you,” he croaked. “I miss you everyday it hurts.”

“I know.” You hold him close for a while. “I’m only given one chance to visit someone in their dreams so I want to make this worthwhile. Iwaizumi, I want you to move on. For my sake and yours.”

It takes him a while to calm down, only reveling in the moment when he could finally touch you, talk to you, and hear you even if it was only in his dreams.

“I can’t,” he stutters. “I can’t move on. There are pieces of you in everywhere I go, everywhere I look. On my table, there’s still the coffee cup you always used when you come to my apartment. Your toothbrush is still sitting beside mine in the bathroom.

And your parents, god knows I’m thankful for them. But every time, they call to check up on me, I’m reminded of you and how I let you die.”

“It’s not your fault. Stop thinking of that.” Your heart shatters whenever he says that. “No one expected that to happen. And I’m also frustrated and heartbroken that I can’t be with you anymore.”

There’s a long minute where neither of you say anything. The two of you just holding on to one another and savoring the moment.

“I have always dreamt of growing old with you,” you whisper dreamily. “We’d own a house and live there with our children. I was thinking one boy and one girl. I’m sad that I can’t make that happen with you anymore. But you have a whole life ahead of you. I’m still rooting for you to achieve your dreams, you know?”

Finally, he laughs as he’s slowly coming to terms with his reality.

“Forever and ever. That’s how long I said I loved you and that has not changed. Even when I’m already gone, I will always be,” you rest your hand on his chest near where his heart lies. “Here.”

He grabs your wrist and intertwines his fingers with yours before kissing them. He doesn’t want to let go of you again. He’s already lost you once and he’s not about to lose you again, wishing that he could stay in this dream forever.

As he’s about to tell you something, he’s brought out of his unconsciousness and his eyes fall to the empty space in his bed. The sheets feel damp and it’s only when he touches his face that he realizes he’s been crying in his sleep. It’s cold when he reaches out to your side of the bed, thinking back to the nights you slept beside him and he felt content.

He remembers what you said.

Forever and ever. That’s how long I said I loved you.

He wills himself to be comforted by those words, repeating them in his mind like a chant until he finds peace and falls back to sleep. He hopes that tomorrow will be better.

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