#i was expecting a call and some devil points | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tender-rosiey · 1 year

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Hello. Can I ask imagine (or headcannons, if it would be more convenient for you) for Mori Ogai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol (separately) and their fem!s/o? Their child is jealous of his mother (s/o) to his father and tries to take all the attention of his mother to himself. Please.

“PAPA GET AWAY FROM MAMA!”

— your child being jealous of dazai, fyodor, chuuya, nikolai and kunikida

a/n: I do hope that this is what you wanted and that you like it <;33

DAZAI OSAMU:

dazai never thought he would be bestowed the blessing or the bliss of having a family, but here he is. he has you wrapped in his arms and he is certain that nothing could feel better than this.

however, it is eerily quiet in this household and osamu guesses it’s because the little devil is asleep, the little devil being his son.

his son looks exactly like you, but my god if the kid doesn’t have the same amount of love dazai has for you then dazai doesn’t know what does he have.

the kid never lets him have his time alone with you and for some reason is genuinely upset whenever you and dazai hug or kiss.

that’s why dazai is making the most out of his time today.

he starts pressing kisses to your shoulder, “it’s been a while, right, belladonna?” your fingers find their way through his hair and dazai smiles instantly, “my pretty wife.”

alas, good things don’t last because the both of your are snapped from your sweet moment by the offended and sob-filled screech of your son.

the kid is balling his eyes out at the scene and starts screaming, “GET AWAY FROM MOMMY!”

dazai’s eyes widen; however, before he responds, you push him away and run to your son to coddle him and calm him down.

dazai pouts but lets it go because his son probably needs the hug.

but, what dazai didn’t expect was that his son would grin and stick his tongue out at his dad.

dazai is flabbergasted, but smiles back.

“she was and is my wife before being your mom,” he whispers and winks pointing at the ring on his finger.

your son frowns and simply huffs, assuming that you’re clueless to what the heck is happening while you’re hugging him.

your, petty, husband also believes that this banter would go unnoticed by you so he sticks his tongue out at his son and his son gasps quietly.

well, they’re both equally stupid cause you obviously know, but oh well.

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY:

never in a million years did he imagine that the person who would challenge him in everything would be his own daughter, his way too smart for a 7 year old, daughter.

today, she saw him hugging you from the back while you were cooking and decided that it’s enough time with you for him.

“father,” she calls out and he hums in response.

“that’s enough time with mom; get away,” she says calmly and he doesn’t look at her and instead tightens his hold on you and whispers, “milaya, you look breathtaking, today.”

you shake your head with a smile and a small, rare chuckle escapes fyodor.

“father, please distance yourself from mother,” she says one last time, patience running out.

fyodor looks at her, “and if I don’t, dear?”

she blinks up at him then kicks him in the shins. he staggers, surprising both himself and you. he looks at his daughter with a frown, “how courageous of you, my dear daughter.”

“cry me a river; we agreed that we each get one hour with mom!” and there comes out the you in her. she smiles the moment you pat her head, signaling for her to go wait for you at the couch.

she bolts there and leaves you and your husband to be. fyodor finally stands up and looks at you with a barely visible pout that has increased in appearances since you gave birth to your dear daughter, “y/n.”

“yes, fedya?”

“our daughter kicked me in the shins.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and you didn’t guess she would?”

“of course, I did,” he looks at her, and somehow your husband who often is known for his intelligence seems like some jealous baby, “but I thought she wouldn’t do it in front of you, at least.”

“well, I didn’t see anything,” you sing and he smirks lightly.

“teaming up on me, are you?”

you shrug, “how can I ever?”

“what a cruel wife you are,” he mumbles right beside your ear and you merely roll your eyes.

NAKAHARA CHUUYA:

sometimes, you feel like you’re a rope being tugged between your son and husband. they are both equally possessive and both have quite the tempers and you have to act like the peace keeper most of the time.

today was no different; however, you have decided to simply watch from the sidelines this time.

“dad! I am gonna marry mom! don’t fight me about it!” your son says confidently.

your husband feels a vein pop, “you little— you can’t marry her! she’s already married to me!”

“no she isn’t!”

“yes she is!”

“what’s your proof?” your son says with a smirk that he definitely inherited from his father, but who’s counting.

your husband narrows his eyes at him and huffs and goes to your shared bedroom. your son giggles and runs towards you, “finally! mom, can I have a hug please?”

you open your arms and your son wastes no time jumping into your embrace making you smile and pat his back. you’re kind of surprised that chuuya didn’t fight back as hard today; maybe you guessed today’s outcome wrong—

you’re quickly proven to have indeed guessed it right as your chuuya appears in all his glory holding your wedding photo, the marriage certificate, and proudly showing off his ring.

your son’s eyes widen, “what is this?”

“the proof that me and y/n are married,” he replied smugly and you sigh.

“w-well, she doesn’t have the same ring as yours!” your son stammers and your husband simply smirks and points at your left hand.

you’ve never heard your son screech so loudly in all his 6 years of living as his eyes lay on your ring.

he jumps away from you, clutching his heart, “mom, what is the meaning of this?!”

“of what exactly?”

“YOU’RE MARRIED TO DAD??” he gasps and you chuckle lightly because if you were to roll your eyes then this house will be turned into ruins.

“honey, I had to marry dad so we can have you,” you smile and chuuya looks as offended as your son.

“HAD TO??”

you side-eye him and he quickly zips his mouth shut and looks away but not without grumbling a couple of curses.

“but that means that I can’t marry you cause you’re already married,” your son says defeatedly as he sits on the floor.

“EXACTLY SO LET US BE!” your husband shouts confidently.

tears well up in your son’s eyes and he bursts into a wail that has your house flooding in a couple of seconds.

you simply look at chuuya, “way to go my dear husband.”

KUNIKIDA DOPPO:

most of the time, your daughter was a daddy’s girl. she always listens to him and a grin is automatically plastered on her face once she sees him.

you can never blame her though cause you have the same reaction whenever you see your lovely husband.

your daughter turned out to be an exact copy of you and both of you share the insane amount of love you have for kunikida.

but there are times where your daughter just wants time with her mama not her dad.

for example, today, you and kunikida were cuddling in the bed, slowly drifting off to sleep. his arms are wrapped around you as he strokes your hair and you feel him press a kiss to your forehead making you nuzzle into his chest.

you feel him smile and you close your eyes to welcome sleep, but you hear a couple of knocks on the door.

your husband sighs softly before sitting up and putting his glasses on, “come in, d/n.”

she slowly opens the door and peaks in, “sorry pa.”

he adjusts his glasses and shakes his head with a smile, “it’s okay; did you have a nightmare?”

she nods softly and perks up at her dad patting the bed. she walks to you two and climbs up the bed, which is quite the travail for her.

most of the time, when she has a nightmare, she squeezes herself between you both to have ‘best of both worlds’ as you say.

so kunikida expects her to sleep between you both like usual, but instead she pushes him away, albeit gently, and sleeps right next you —where he once was— and cuddles close to you.

you pat her head and pull her closer with a smile.

you look up at your husband who had his spot taken from him and giggle at the sight of his small pout.

kunikida watches you guys cuddle and then decides to just lay back down and simply wrap his arms around both of you at the same time. he didn’t train all of that time for nothing.

your daughter whines jokingly, “paaa, I want to be with mom.”

he raises an eyebrow, “is that so?”

she nods and starts squealing and laughing when her father squeezes you guys in a tight hug. both your laughters fill the room and kunikida smiles before saying, “do you not want papa anymore?”

“no no! I want you; please mercy!” she pleads making both you and kunikida chuckle before he finally relaxes his hold and kisses both your and her cheek and the three of you finally succumb to sleep.

NIKOLAI GOGOL:

“quiz time! guess who had his share of y/n today?”

you deadpan, “kolya, I am not a pie.”

“well, you’re certainly as sweet as one,” your husband grins, but both you and your son just gag at the terrible pick up line.

you’ve long got used to his theatrics, after all. your son, though, calls bs on everything his dad does.

“not me,” your son replied with a grin and holds you tighter, sticking his tongue out at nikolai.

“AHAHA! you’re as funny as me, s/n,” nikolai cackles, and you’re sure he is keen on throwing your son off of you any time now.

“but dad, I can’t be funny as you,” your son says dejectedly and nikolai’s eyebrow rises.

“why is that?”

your son smiles, a closed eye smile, before replying, “you’re not funny at all; that’s an insult to me.”

nikolai doesn’t say anything as he pulls your screaming son off you, after quite the struggle.

he walks to the garden and throws him there, “go play with a frog or something; I will have y/n all to myself for the rest of the day. thank you!”

your husband smiles victoriously and is about to throw himself into your embrace until his son reappears right beside you and the boy has a frown that only means one thing.

chaos is about to ensue.

your son starts throwing a tantrum and yelling, “I WANT TO CUDDLE MOM!!”

“no can do, young man,” your husband says shaking his head, “you already got your fair share of mama per the agreement.”

“what agreement?” your son asks, tears still streaming down his face.

your husband puts his hand in his coat and gets out a contract.

the contract reads that your son will only have 2 hours of your attention and time while your husband gets the rest.

“b-but these types of papers need to have signatures of both sides!”

your husband giggles, “your signature is right here, my dear son.”

your son gasps but quickly composed himself.

“oh whatever shall you do now? I rightfully deserve all of y/n’s time—AHHHHH WHAT THE HELL?!”

you come back —after leaving to get yourself a cup of coffee cause this is way too much for you— and find that your son has effectively set the contract on fire.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudssimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @waosobii

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sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months

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✧ 𝟔𝟎𝟑 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 || luke hughes ♔

summary: exam season is the worst season ever for y/n and the only person who can calm her down is 603 miles away from her

warnings: finals, essays, stress, crying, long-distance

publish date: 02/10/24

notes: i think i'm entering a new luke obsession phase because that's all i wanted to write yesterday and today. oh right! based off of this request -> idea! there is a point of me saying 603 miles a million times in this, (it's like four times) it's literally the name of the fic... so if you're annoyed then oh well, don't read it (apologies for mean emma today, i'm tired). add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

She expected this to happen, the pounding in her head, the 20 tabs open on her computer, the dozens of resource articles and research strewn about in her room, the five packets of review guides sitting in a stack on her desk, the half drank cup of coffee, and the tears springing in her eyes. The white noise coming from her earbuds was starting to bother her causing her to rip them out of her ears and throw them somewhere where she probably wouldn’t be able to find them again.

She could hear voices in the living room, just outside her closed bedroom door. They were laughing about something, what it was she had no idea. Her three roommates all had presentations tomorrow and that was it, no more studying, no more writing, they were done. She, however, still had three papers to write and two exams to take. She had regretted her decision to take this many classes this semester but she was preparing herself for her future.

She had gone to stand up, feeling dizzy immediately as her feet planted flat on the floor. She held a hand to the wall, bracing herself from toppling over. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry sight of tears, dehydration, and lack of nutrition. She knew people would be worried about her if they were to see her like this, her hair matted and pulled into a bun as best as she could, and mascara dried on her face that highlighted the dark circles and bags under her eyes. She was wearing Luke’s sweatshirt, the Devils logo plastered over it in the center, mocking her, reminding her that her boyfriend was 603 miles away from her.

At the thought, she allowed herself to tear up more, letting tear after tear fall. There wasn’t much she could do, he was in the middle of a game right now. When she realized he had a game, she turned it on and watched with a soft smile whenever he would show up on the TV. Despite knowing the fact that he would not answer his phone, she called him, hoping to just hear his voice through his voicemail.

When his voice reached her ears, she could feel some of the tension release from her body. However, the feeling was short-lived as the beep from the end of his voicemail was heard. She didn’t leave a message, she just hung up and watched the remainder of the second period. When the horn blarred in the arena and through the tv speakers, she shut off the screen and returned to work, making her head hurt more.

She didn’t notice the multiple attempts Luke had made to call her, her phone having died 20 minutes prior when she was writing her essay. Her headphones laid atop of her earbuds, trying to create a total noise blocker from her apartment’s noises. She had been ripping off post-it notes after post-it notes, scrambling to write down as many ideas as her brain could process.

Meanwhile, Luke had been minorly, no majorly, freaking out. She would never call him if he was at a game, not even if it was super important. He could feel himself start to sweat again as he rushed to put his suit jacket on, wiggling his feet into his shoes. He had gone home by himself, not feeling the need to celebrate when his girl could be suffocating 603 miles away from him.

Ever since they’ve known each other, Luke has known about y/n’s tendencies to throw herself into her school work. He remembers the first time he saw her during exam season. It was the end of their freshman fall term, they had been dating for four months at the time. They had just gotten back from their games in Ohio, he was exhausted from the trip and their 6-1 loss following their win the previous day. All he had wanted to do was go over to her dorm and lay in bed with her.

✧༺✎༻∞

He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer but nothing came. He felt saddened and knocked again. He received the same answer, none. He turned around and slid down the wood door, hitting the ground with a thud. He put his hands on his head as he waited, kicking his bag to the side. It was only then he heard the footsteps come rushing down the hallway and looked up to see her. She had her backpack that looked as if it weighed 10 pounds, she was clutching five books in her arms and a coffee cup rested on top of them. She had been mumbling when she noticed him and her eyes lit up, “Hi!”

“Hi pretty girl, whatcha doing?”

“Studying.”

He looked at the way her eyes were hidden by the circles underneath them and frowned. He reached out to grab the books from her grasp and she gratefully accepted the offer, going straight to dig the keys out of her bag, “How were the games? Did you guys win?”

He felt heartbroken and confused, she always watched his games when they went away. She would always be the one to point out his goal or an assist that he got, sometimes she even pointed out if Dylan, Mackie, Ethan, or even Owen got a goal. He watched as she pushed the door open, removing her hand from her side to run it through her hair, “You didn’t watch?”

She turned to him, dropping her bag on the ground and reaching out for her books, “No, I was studying. Sorry, Lu.”

Studying? At that time? He did nothing but let her take the books, watching as she started to clean up her dorm. It was only then that he had noticed the state her dorm was in. There were empty boxes scattering the floor, paper plates and bowls on any surface possible, and some of her clothes were mixed in with her roommate’s, it was a mess, to say the least. He made no effort to say anything about it, though.

She cleaned as much as she could in a matter of five minutes, looking at him with a small smile on her face, “I’m sorry I didn’t watch. I was going to watch the highlights when I got back tonight.”

“Back from?”

“Library. I think I’m starting to become a regular for everyone who works there.”

The thought of her being a regular was somewhat concerned, “How often have you been going?”

His voice was a mixture of stern and worried, his eyes somewhat squinted in a glare. She looked as if she had committed a crime at the tone of his voice, “Every day… from the time class was over until they closed.”

His eyes widened, “Jesus y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to study. I need to do well.”

“I understand that but you can’t work yourself to the brink of death.” He grabbed the coffee out of her hand and emptied it into the sink, getting rid of the cup afterward.

She whined at the motion, watching him in horror as if he just hit a bird with his car. He walked back over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “Tomorrow you are not going to touch a single book, I won’t even let you touch your computer.”

“But-”

“Nuh-uh, nope. No computer, no books, no papers, no anything school-related. We are going to stay in your bed and watch movies all day and eat properly.”

“I eat properly!” She exclaimed in offense.

He gave her a look that said all the different, “Sure. Now I can only hope you still have some of my clothes here somewhere because I do not want to talk to my dorm right now.”

She pointed in embarrassment to one of her draws, “In there.”

He kissed her forehead and grabbed the clothes before heading for the bathroom, “I’ll be back and I better not see you do any work when I get back.”

She nodded but as soon as he left she ran to her backpack and grabbed her computer. She rushed to finish the last two paragraphs of her essay before he got back but luck was not on her side as she was halfway through her last paragraph and the doorknob turned. She had been so focused on writing that she didn’t care that he entered, “Just let me finish my last paragraph.”

He sighed, dropping his clothes into her laundry basket. He walked back to her bed and looked at her, “Last paragraph?”

“Mhm.” She nodded and scooted over so Luke could sit next to her, “Fine. I don’t want you to lose your train of thought.”

She beamed up at him and kissed his cheek before returning to her work.

✧༺✎༻∞

Ever since then, he had been careful with how much he left her alone in exam season. He always called on road trips, always went to the library with her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself, always made sure she was eating properly and always made sure that she was okay. But now being 603 miles it was hard to do that for her.

Luke was packing a bag as fast as he could, looking at his laptop for the earliest flight out of there which wasn’t until early the next morning, leaving at 7 and not arriving until 9. Then he would have to wait to get a car and do a 30-minute drive to Ann Arbor. He groaned at the time and went to throw something, at that point he could drive there and be there before getting a plane but he was in no state to drive.

He continued to try and call her for 30 minutes, on the brink of giving up at that point. Her phone was still dead and she had yet to realize it. She had music playing through her earbuds attached to her computer, typing about something that she considered stupid and unnecessary. She only took breaks to take a sip of coffee or to groan and throw her head back in exhaustion and frustration.

Luke threw his phone on the bed, running his hands down his face, falling asleep not even five minutes later. Y/n was the same way, she closed her laptop as she finished her last sentence, finally allowing herself to take a break. She got up to go make a burrito in the kitchen, waving to her friends who were also still awake at the time.

She went to turn her phone on and that was when she realized the lack of battery it had. She shrugged it off and put it down on her nightstand before walking back out to eat and finish watching the movie with her roommates.

✧༺✎༻∞

She didn’t go to bed until almost three in the morning despite finishing the movie four hours ago. Once they finished, she looked at the piles of paper and study guides she still had to do and sighed. Deciding that her first class wasn’t until noon, she could easily get done with one or two study guides or an essay in three.

She curled up on her bed when she was done and wrapped the blankets around her tightly. When she woke up and went to look at her phone and saw a tweet from Amanda from an hour ago, “Luke is not at morning practice due to personal reasons. Should expect him back for Saturday’s game in Columbus.”

She immediately woke up at the fact, looking back at her other notifications. There must’ve been at least a dozen missed calls from Luke and 15 text messages. She could only think about the worst, if he had gotten hurt but just didn’t want to tell someone, if he had been so drunk that he couldn’t think straight, if he had a panic attack last night. Her thoughts raced but halted when there was a knock on the door.

She went out to the living room, still clad in her sweats from the previous night. Her friends must’ve either already left or were still sleeping. She walked to the door, peeking through the peephole and gasping. She all but ripped the door open, “Lukey?”

He smiled when he saw her, immediately feeling better. Her eyes were still the same from the first time he had experienced her like this and he knew there would probably be a coffee pot brewing in the next few minutes, but he was here now and that was a wave of relief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls and I know you were studying last night so you probably wouldn’t have answered them anyway. But when I saw you called during the game I got worried because you never call. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you weren’t overworking yourself but i can tell that you are.”

She frowned at his words but also felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him flying out just because he wanted to ensure she was okay. She stepped aside to let him in and then led him to her bedroom. It was cleaner than what he had witnessed in the past years.

“You can’t just fly out every time you think I’m overworking myself, Luke.”

“I know but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried, really worried.” He held her hand, playing with her fingers as a form of comfort, “How long were you up to last night?”

She hesitated before responding, “3…”

He only sighed and tugged her closer to the bed so they could lay down, “Luke I have class in two hours.”

“I know but just for a little bit, and then I’ll take you to class.”

“You still know you’re way around campus?”

“Did I ever know my way around campus?”

She shook her head and laughed, “No.”

He smiled at her laugh, “You do realize I’m only going to be allowing you to rest while I’m here right?”

“But I have one more essay to finish.”

He glared at her, “Fine, but after that, you are going to be right here, in my arms, and not thinking about school at all.”

“Deal.”He kissed her before allowing her to get up and get ready for class. They both walked on campus to her class with the same thought, grateful that Luke had come to see her. Even with being 603 miles away from each other, they would do anything to be there for one another.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #hockey #nhl #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader

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f1gments · 1 year

Text

DETOUR - HAYAKAWA AKI |早川アキ (M)

You and Aki are supposed to be on your way back from a mission, but the rain that’s been pouring non-stop has Aki pulling over to the side of an empty road for safety precautions. It doesn’t look like it’s stopping any sooner, so what better way to spend that time than to have sweaty, breathy, messy sex in the back seat?

MINORS DNI

Pairing: aki x fem!bodied reader

word count: 8.0k

R18, making out, smut, car sex, protected sex, semi-public sex, handjob, oral sex (towards Aki), vaginal fingering, nipple licking, cowgirl position, missionary, vaginal sex, teasing & dirty talk, softdom aki (?), boyfriend aki

he smokes for a little bit. also calls you baby a few times.

authors note: car sex fic among my list of wips that i’ve been wanting to put out for ages, so ya’ll can thank the amount of horny i had in order to push through with this fic lol. also big thank you to my darling @meownotgood for beta reading and revising! and also adding fuel to the aki horny. i give you big kith <3 <3

18+ explicit content ahead. please for the love of god DO NOT interact if you’re a minor.

Aki exhales a long, defeated sigh from the driver’s seat.

“It looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.” he says, switching the car engine off.

It's been pouring non-stop from the moment you left the city, but the rain has only grown heavier, to the point where it's difficult to see the road — or anything, for that matter. All you can make out through the droplet-soaked windows are the elusive silhouettes of houses and the blurred lights from the street lamps. The sky is gloomy and dark, puffy gray clouds obscure the sun.

The two of you were supposed to be on your way back to headquarters after completing a mission Makima had sent you on. According to file reports and a call she received, the Rat Devil was going around terrorizing citizens in a small district on the far outskirts of Tokyo.

The mission itself was simple: kill the Rat Devil and report back to Makima upon confirmation of its extermination. By the time you and Aki arrived, almost half the neighborhood was killed — or rather, eaten, so there wasn't any need for search and rescue. The devil was dealt with rather easily. You and Aki would have been at headquarters and done with all of this by now, if it wasn't for the sudden rainstorm interrupting that plan.

So, here you are, parked at the side of an empty road with Aki, biding your time until the rain stops.

You're a little bored, sure, but this isn't all bad. It feels good to relax a bit before you have to go back to headquarters; you can already see the giant stack of paperwork waiting for you.

You hum as you shrug off your coat, before leaning your head against the headrest. You stare out the foggy window; there's a couple of houses up ahead that you can see from where you're parked, and beside them is a small playground. The whole neighborhood looks empty, as expected. You don’t think any kids will be coming out to play in this weather.

The sound of the rain echoes a rhythmic pitter patter against the roof of the car. It's soothing, like it could lull you to sleep. You allow your tired eyes to close, and you almost drift off, but in a few moments, the sudden realization of being stuck in the rain, all alone somewhere secluded with your boyfriend begins to form an idea inside your head.

It's not the best idea to be thinking of right now, sure. But considering it's been raining non-stop for ages now, and considering you need some way to pass the time, you wouldn't exactly say it's the worst thing you could come up with.

You're just not sure about getting Aki to agree to it. You can already hear his response in your head: Really? You want to have sex right now? That's… We can't. Just wait until we get home.

You've been dating Aki for an entire year now, and sex isn’t exactly new to you anymore, since you both gave each other your firsts on the fifth month of being together. But even now, Aki still blushes whenever you undress in front of him, or when you ask if you can suck him off during foreplay.

He always tells you that you don't have to do anything for him, because he feels good just by watching you come undone on his fingers, his mouth giving you soft kisses on your clit while his tongue gives you long licks until your toes are curling as you cum. He's still the same as when you first met him, too shy to make the first move, and so dedicated to your own pleasure that he forgets about his own.

And you know he's definitely too embarrassed to consider having sex in a place like this. You've never done anything remotely intimate with him in any place besides the bedroom. Hell, sometimes he's too embarrassed just to kiss you in public.

You think you have an idea to convince him, though.

You turn to look at Aki, who has one hand resting on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping a random beat against it. He rests his chin in the palm of his other hand, elbow on the side panel of the door. The rain continues to fall, drumming against the rooftop, as though it’s trying to flood the empty streets outside, to wash off all that is unjust and evil.

Aki fidgets in the driver's seat for a moment, before you watch him pull out his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his pants. He lights one up with the baby blue lighter you always see him use, and then he twists the key in the ignition, putting it in accessory mode so only the lights and radio turn on.

He rolls the window down enough for him to flick the ashes out of it, making the petrichor invade your nose for a few moments. The rich, familiar smell of smoke he exhales replaces it, the wind drifts the scent towards you, along with the faint warm and woody cologne that emanates from him.

You gaze at his handsome features in awe, admiring his side profile; the dull luminescence overcasting a shadow on his angular jawline and high cheekbones, eyes of welded iron and a gaze just as hard — Eyes that have seen more than anyone could possibly imagine in one lifetime. An upper lip that protrudes a little further than the lower, and cheeks of dusty pink; they soften his expression, and his demeanor of steel.

You shake your head before you end up getting lost in your thoughts any further. You inhale deeply, breathing in the remainder of smoke, and the gentle scent of the cologne clinging to his clothes once again.

“Hey, Aki…”

His attention goes to you the second he hears your voice, deep blue eyes scanning your gentle features and your unreadable expression. He notices that you've taken your coat off.

“Hmm, what’s wrong?” Aki replies softly. “Are you feeling warm? I can turn the air conditioning on for a bit if you’d like.” He reaches for the air conditioning valve on the dashboard, but you grab his hand to stop him, shaking your head.

“I’m fine. It’s something else.” You peer up at him through your lashes. His hand is warm.

“What is it?” There’s a look of genuine concern apparent on his face as Aki puts out the cigarette in the portable ashtray he carries in his jacket. He scans all the parts of your body he can see — your arms, your hands, your neck, your shoulders, trying to see if there's any injuries, worried that you might have gotten hurt from the mission earlier.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head again with a chuckle, and you grab both of his hands, squeezing them tightly. “No, Aki. I told you, I’m fine. It’s just that...”

You can't help but trail off; feeling a little embarrassed, you start to fiddle with his fingers, averting your eyes.

“Spit it out already." Aki sighs impatiently, making you chuckle again.

“So impatient.” you answer, smirking, to which Aki gives you an unamused blank stare.

“I was thinking we could do something fun to pass the time."

Aki raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You lean in closer, and since the space between you and him in the car isn’t very big to begin with, your lips are already inches away from his.

You cup his chin between your finger and your thumb and whisper, “Like this…”

At once, you've closed the distance, and your lips press softly to his. Aki's eyes widen, but soon, he's relaxing into the kiss, his shoulders slumping, his eyes fluttering shut. The smell of you consumes his senses: vanilla and lavender, utterly intoxicating.

When the kiss deepens, he can taste the faint flavor of your lip gloss: cherry and mint. He kisses your lips over and over again like he can't get enough, soft but hungry at the same time.

You move to climb on top of him, and Aki adjusts himself, leaning back in his seat to give you enough space to straddle him comfortably. Your tongue presses to his; you kiss languidly and deeply, taking time to explore each other’s mouths. Your lips feel so good against his own, so perfect. They're fogging up his mind, like you're demanding him to forget everything except for you — and it’s working.

Your hands grip tightly onto his shirt as Aki skims his fingers down your shoulders and across your sides, resting them onto the curve of your waist. Right now, neither of you are thinking about getting back as soon as possible, or your lives, or anything like stupid devils and more missions. It’s just the both of you focusing on each other, and Aki’s mind is consumed only by thoughts of how good you make him feel.

You both pull away breathlessly, foreheads resting against one another. Still catching your breath, you roll your hips into Aki's lap hesitantly, testing the waters. Aki groans, but he gives your waist a firm squeeze, stopping you from continuing.

“We… we can’t. Not here." Aki looks at you through heavy eyelids. “Someone might see us.”

You slide backwards a little on his lap as much as the small space will allow, until you feel the steering wheel press into your back. Your hand slowly travels up his thigh, fingers playing with the zipper of his pants.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” You flash him a grin, but Aki stares back with an unamused expression. You reach up, toying with the earring on his lobe, resisting the urge to pinch his cheek. “Come on Aki, we haven’t seen another car for three hours. I doubt anyone’s going to see us in this rain.”

Aki doesn't respond, so you take matters into your own hands: in a few seconds, you've grasped the button on his slacks and popped it open. You're tugging the zipper down, relieving some of the pressure when you hear Aki inhale sharply, his eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn't make an attempt to push you away.

“Stop that.”

His voice is weak, it's shaky, it lacks the bite you normally hear out of him when you're at work. And even though he's telling you to stop, Aki's body betrays him. You can feel the bulge that's forming underneath his slacks, you notice how he lifts his hips a little to make it easier for you to tug his pants down. Your smirk grows wider.

“Do you really want me to stop?” you hum, moving closer to whisper into his ear.

“Baby-” Aki quips sharply, almost like a warning, but you continue your ministrations; you rub where the hem of his briefs meets his stomach with your thumbs, you kiss him softly behind his ear.

“Don’t you want me too?” You pull back to meet his eyes, and you tilt your head to the side, your lips pulling up into a coy smile. Aki's heart skips a beat at the sight.

Aki swallows thickly. “I…”

It’s not that he doesn’t want you. It's just that he'd much rather have you somewhere more comfortable, more familiar. When he's looking at you like he is now, his head spins with the thought of driving you home, tossing the door open only to carry you to his bedroom and pin you to the bed. He imagines your hands gripping the sheets, your voice calling his name with his head buried between your legs, his lips on your clit and his mouth on your pussy.

No, he definitely wants you, and he can't deny it, he can't stop thinking about it now that you've got him started.

Before Aki can give you a reply, you lean into his neck, giving him a few soft, teasing kisses on his warm skin, before you pull back and look at him again with the same imploring smile.

Aki sighs, half in annoyance, half in submission. You can see the affection behind his eyes when he looks at you; deep down, he’s a pile of mush, unbelievably endeared to you. He’s helpless when you ask for things out of the blue like this, especially when you give him such a pleading look with those doe-like eyes.

Aki takes in a long, steady breath before he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this here? Wouldn’t it be better if we wait until we get home?”

“I’m sure. Besides,” You nod softly, smiling, “Don’t you think it’s a little exciting to fuck me in the car?”

Oh, Aki thinks it’s very exciting. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he gets a certain rush just by imagining it, it's a kind of feeling he's never felt before. His dick throbs in his briefs when he thinks of fucking you in the backseat of the company car, and in public, no less.

Part of him is still nervous — What if you both make a mess, what if someone catches you? But another part of him wants to chase that rush, he wants to have you right here, and right now.

He tries to temper the fog in his head, focusing on the feeling of you against him. It's difficult when his heart is thumping loud in his eardrums, and when his core is thrumming with anticipation and need.

“I need you, Aki.”

Sometimes, he swears you can read his mind.

“I need you too.” he replies, and you don’t miss the faint pink color dusted on his cheekbones. Aki swallows, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Just this once. We'll do this just this once, got it?”

Aki motions his head over to the back seat, and you take the hint, quickly climbing into it. He follows suit shortly after, and everything is a blur of clothes coming off and hungry, heated and sloppy kisses. You're left in just your underwear, and Aki is left in just his loose work slacks.

You can feel the familiar rush of white hot want course through your veins.You’re sure Aki feels the same way because in between kisses, when your hand goes back to stroking the tent in his pants, he seems to have only gotten harder. You give him one last firm squeeze, pulling away to position yourself on your knees in front of him.

It's a tight fit; the company cars are spacious, but you're still crammed in between him and the back of the front seat, it leaves you to rest your head on his legs and press your chest to his knees.

“What… what are you doing?” Aki stutters nervously, squirming a little in his seat when you reach for his slacks. You tug them down his legs the rest of the way until they're pooled at his ankles.

“Making you feel good.”

Your fingers feel warm on his skin when you push them under the waistband of his briefs. You help him out of them, his length bounces up to tap his stomach when you tug them all the way down. The sensitive, pink head tingles when it brushes against his skin, causing Aki’s entire frame to shudder with need.

You waste no time gripping the base of his cock and spitting on the leaking tip, stroking him slowly. Aki spreads his legs a little wider for you as your palm swipes the tip, getting his length wet with your saliva and his precum; the sensation has him moaning in pleasure.

Barely squeezing, you slowly move your hand up and down the shaft, you snicker a little when you hear him whimper slightly. You pump his cock lazily, and Aki reaches down, grabbing your arm to steady himself, thrusting his hips up into your hand, searching for more.

And you give it to him; Aki’s head falls back against the headrest with a thud, and he grunts as you start to stroke him faster. “Feels… so good.”

“More?” you ask, your voice husky. Aki nods feverishly in response.

“God, yes. Please. Don't stop, don't stop...”

The slick noises filling the car and the sound of Aki's desperate begs add on to the growing ache between your legs, they mix with the echo of the rain tapping the roof of the car and the windshield. He mutters a strained fuck when you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and bring it to your warm tongue, giving the tip a tentative lick.

“S-Shit…” Aki hisses, his breathing unsteady, “That's it… Keep going.”

At first, you start by just trailing kisses down his tip to the underside of his cock, and Aki shivers at the faint sensation. When you trail back up, starting to take him into your mouth, you feel his palm lay softly on the back of your head, and then his fingers knot themselves into your hair, gripping tightly, holding the loose strands away from your face in a makeshift ponytail.

Aki watches you with his jaw slack, he quietly moans your name when your cheeks hollow, your head bobbing up and down his cock at a languid pace.

Aki grips your hair a little tighter. His eyes meet yours, his gaze is heavy with lust and with love. “So good, you're doing such a good job.”

With your saliva involved, every time you suck on his cock with your lips closed, there's a nasty, loud squelch — It reminds him that this is happening right here, that you're sucking Aki's cock in the backseat. He's in so much bliss he's hardly thinking about it, he can only focus on the feeling of your tongue swirling around his dick, of your warm mouth and the tip of his cock slightly touching the back of your throat when he bucks his hips up.

He rubs the back of your head gently, his eyelashes flutter when he looks at you.

“Your lips… They're so pretty.” Aki tells you, and you pull away from his cock with a loud pop.

“Yeah?” A teasing smile forms on your lips. “And you have a pretty dick.”

Aki's cheeks instantly blossom with color, petals of dusty rose scattering across his handsome features. His pupils blow out deep, dark and wide. You've always thought Aki has the most beautiful pair of eyes, they're like a door to his soul. Pools of deep dark blue that you could drown inside if you weren’t so busy sucking the life out of him in the back of the sleek company sedan.

You watch Aki draw his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating, before finally, he gently pushes down on the back of your head, with so little force you almost don't feel it.

“C’mon… keep going for me, just a little bit, please. Can you do that?" His voice cracks slightly, his tone high-pitched. You smile, nodding obediently, and you move back down to wrap your warm lips around him once again.

“Mhmm.” The hum of your voice sends vibrations over Aki's cock, causing him to inhale a sharp breath through his teeth. You look up at him one last time, batting your eyelashes before sinking your mouth down on him completely, taking him all the way down your throat. Tears well at the corners of your eyes, and you shut them tight to will them away.

Aki cries out, his thighs shaking. He stammers, “S-Shit, baby, too much, slow down...”

He's trying his hardest not to thrust himself into your mouth. His eyes almost roll into the back of his head when he feels the tip of his cock brush the back of your throat again, and he clumsily pushes your hair behind your ears as you suck eagerly on his cock.

It's so overwhelming, it's so much, it's more than he thinks he can take when one of your hands reaches up to grip the base of his cock, stroking in tune with your mouth, while the other massages his thigh, willing his legs to spread even further apart. But it feels so fucking good, Aki can't help but melt into you.

“God,” he groans through heavy pants, “You take me so well, p-please, don't stop.”

The way your hand glides up and down his cock along with your mouth is making Aki forget how to think straight. He feels dizzy, he knows he's getting close to the edge, and if he lets you keep going, he's sure he won't be able to stop himself from cumming. He grabs your wrist firmly — a silent demand to halt your actions — and he catches his breath.

In compliance, you freeze, and Aki slips his hand up to hold the side of your face, to cup your cheek and slowly coax you up while he leans down.

“C'mere.”

He pulls you into a fervent kiss, you press your palm to his chest and push him back into the seat until you can straddle his thighs and settle into his lap.

Aki can taste himself on your tongue; it makes him feel high, but as you lift your hips, grinding your clothed cunt against his length, getting your underwear soaked and filthy and making Aki moan into your mouth, he suddenly stops you. He reaches down, he grabs your waist and causes you to freeze, pulling away from his lips, a confused expression on your face.

No, no more. He needs you right now.

“I… I want to cum with you.” Aki admits, breathing hard, “I need to be inside you when I cum.”

You nod with a gentle smile. “Okay. Of course.”

You follow Aki's lead when he brings his palm to the small of your back, guiding you to twist and lay down in the backseat. The space is cramped, your head is propped up on the door, Aki has to slot his knee between your legs to make room for himself. The tight space makes it feel like he's even closer.

Condensation has formed on the inside of the windows from the heat of your bodies. Aki cranes down to meet your neck. Your breath hitches at the first touch of his lips on your skin, right on your nape, and then down, his open mouth wet and warm on the flesh below your collarbone.

“I’m gonna take your underwear off, okay?” he whispers softly without pulling away. You nod, and you lift your hips up slightly to allow him to pull down your lacy underwear. He tosses them to the side while he continues to leave gentle kisses on your chest.

“Spread your legs open for me.” His words are like warm honey, sweet and dizzying when they drip from his lips to meet your ears.

You obey, spreading your legs eagerly, as wide as the small space in the backseat will allow. Aki’s eyes grow dark with lust when he pulls back and sees your pretty pussy glistening in the low light, soaking wet for him — like a blooming flower, filled with sweet, sticky nectar.

He grazes his fingers up your dripping slit, he sighs the moment he feels your slick drip out onto the digits.

“God, you're so wet,” he croaks out, slightly breathless. His head dips, bangs hiding his face, and he tries to compose himself. “I'm gonna put one in.”

Then, Aki is slowly pressing a finger into your tight walls, sinking it in all the way and curling it into your core, causing you to whine and arch your back, your chest pressing up towards him. You wrap one arm around his shoulders, and you grip his arm with the other, your hips bucking up as another finger teases your entrance before sinking deep inside.

Your mouth falls open, your brows pinch. Aki kisses your forehead, he tugs you closer and leans down to brush his lips over your neck.

“Feels good,” you whine, and Aki delicately rubs your clit with his thumb, sighing when he feels your walls clamp around his fingers.

“Yeah?” He kisses your neck messily, curling his fingers into you deliciously.

“I’m close, I'm close-”

Your thighs close around his arm, and Aki slows his pace for just a moment.

He asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

Immediately, you shake your head, you plead for him to continue. Aki kisses your neck once more before he brings his lips to your ear, he presses his fingers into your sweet spot while toying with your clit, whispering honeyed words into your ear.

You're so pretty, you gonna cum for me? Go ahead and cum, baby, I've got you.

You tip over the edge just as he eases a third finger into you. You chant his name, your thighs shake and he drags his soaked fingers out to messily rub your clit through your orgasm with quick flicks of his wrist.

Aki kisses you as you come down; it's like time is frozen, like it's just you and him stuck in this moment. Your lips melded to his while you breathe life into him, yet at the same time, take his breath away with each kiss you give to his lips. He only pulls away to catch his breath and briefly bring his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Hold on,” Aki reaches down onto the floor, searching for his pants. When he finds them, he fishes his wallet out of his pocket, pulling out a silver condom packet.

“What?” You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyeing him up and down. “Since when have you started carrying those around?”

Aki replies matter-of-factly, “Since we started dating.”

You smirk. “We have plenty of those at your house, you know. Thought you didn't want to have sex in public.”

“Oh, please,” Aki rolls his eyes, “I wasn't counting on using them for something like this. It's just… better to be prepared.”

It's not a complete lie, although, Aki can't deny he was thinking of the two of you getting caught in something spontaneous when he first slipped the condom into his wallet. He definitely didn't imagine this would be the place he'd end up using it, though.

You reach up, plucking the condom packet from his fingers, and Aki glances up towards the driver's seat. The sky seems even darker than before, and the rain is still pouring down, battering the glass and obscuring the view. The windows of the car are slightly tinted, and with this storm, there's still no-one to be found.

You tear open the condom wrapper, and you're sliding the lubricated latex down his hardened cock when Aki turns to look at you again. He settles his much larger hand over your own, he helps you tug the condom snugly on his length.

“So...” Aki starts, and you look up to meet his eyes. “You were planning on doing this without protection?”

He's so perceptive, you can't help but laugh. “Maybe. You're right, though. It's better to be safe.”

Aki's eyes narrow. His expression seems unamused, but the more he thinks about it, the more he considers what that would entail — fucking you raw, the deeper his cheeks redden. Perhaps he should have gone with what you wanted.

“Hey,” Your voice rouses him from his thoughts, “Sit back for me.”

As he leans back, settling into the seat, you climb into his lap to straddle him again, pressing your lips to his. Your palms roam up and down his chest, fingertips tracing the scars littered across his toned body.

His tongue snakes against yours, he kisses you deeply. Your teeth nip at his bottom lip before you detach and kiss his chin, then the edge of his jaw, trailing kisses down his to his neck where you suck beautiful fields of lilac and dusty pink into his pale skin. Aki gasps; his hands drift down your waist, the shape of your hips, and the arch of your back until they begin to knead the soft flesh of your ass.

You can't wait any longer; you raise your hips and grip the base of his cock, running the tip over your wet folds. Aki looks down, he watches, he bites down on his lower lip. Then, he meets your gaze, his eyes glazed over, his expression pleading.

Finally, you align his throbbing cock to your entrance, bringing yourself down halfway, slowly. You feel the fat tip of his cock enter you, you feel it stretch you out. Aki throws his head back, his eyes closed. He already feels like he could cum, just from this. Just from being halfway inside you.

“Shit,” he mumbles, “God, that feels so good, fuck, baby-”

You're both panting, and you've barely even taken him.

Aki cracks his eyes open to watch you sink down on his cock, the length slowly disappearing inside you. He sucks a hiss between his gritted teeth when you settle on him all the way, taking all of him in. Your heart is pounding wildly against your ribcage, your head is starting to spin.

“Too deep?” Aki asks between pants, and you shake your head. A few moments go by, you listen to the rhythmic drum of rain, Aki rubs soothing circles on your back and gives you a minute to adjust.

It feels so good to finally be inside you. Aki breathes in deeply, he groans when your hips shift. You take another few moments to compose yourself before you lift your hips a little, only to immediately drop back down on his cock, causing a low fuck to escape from his lips.

You start bouncing up and down his length, and he leans forward, latching his mouth onto your nipple. His hand gently kneads your other breast. You moan softly, hands reaching up to tug his messy hair out of his topknot, until your fingers can run through the strands and your nails can drag across his scalp, making him grunt and his spine tingle.

“You like that, baby?” you coo, and Aki hums in approval, sending vibrations over your breast. His eyebrows are knitted together, his eyelids are fluttered shut.

He swirls his tongue around your nipple and kisses your breast before pulling away. Your pace is getting a little faster, a little harder. The car is filled with the sound of skin slapping skin as you ride him, and the needy whines and moans coming from both you and him.

“I love it, love it so much,” Aki sighs, “S-So wet and tight for me.”

You grind your pelvis into his, and he grips your waist to help you along. You start to feel Aki raising his hips up from the seat. Ever so slightly, at first, just trying to feel you a little deeper. And then, desperately — he's matching your rhythm and rutting up into you, fucking you as you ride him with needy whines and fragile gasps.

His expression already looks so fucked-out: his pupils blown, his lips parted, hair down and messy to frame his face. He's practically drooling.

“That’s it, baby,” you purr as Aki thrusts up into you again, moaning from the pleasure. “Show me how much you like it.”

“Ngh — fuck.” Your words only seem to spur him on more. Aki digs his nails a little harder into your hips, he shakes his head to get his messy bangs out of his eyes.

“Oh, yes.” you moan, gripping his broad shoulders to steady yourself, “Right there, please, right there-”

Sweat drips from his forehead, droplets cascade down his chest. He's fucking right into your sweet spot, to the point where you hardly have to move, you just let him thrust into you. Your ass is slapping against his thighs. Aki kisses your cheek before grasping your chin between his fingers and pulling your mouth onto his.

The kiss is a wild clash of tongue and teeth, but you break away almost as soon as it begins, crying out when Aki buries himself into you hard. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, gasping over and over again in pleasure.

Suddenly, Aki's pace starts to slow, he's holding you still and trying to catch his breath. His thighs are twitching, and his heart is pounding, it's so loud he can hear it in his ears.

“Not… not gonna last much longer like this,” he mumbles, and you sit up to meet his eyes. There's an earnest, loving expression in the back of his gaze when he asks, “Can we change positions?”

You don't answer, still catching your breath, but you nod your head. Aki rubs your hips, he lifts you and pulls out of you slowly, he kisses your jaw and your throat. You feel his arm curl around the small of your back, and he gently maneuvers your body until you're under him, your back laying flat against the seat. The leather is cool and smooth on your skin.

Aki takes in the sight of you for a few moments, his eyes scanning your form. He admires the way you're splayed out beneath him; so beautiful, so angelic, as you always are. This time, though, it's a little different. It's a bit different to see you here, to have you in a place like this. It somehow manages to be exciting, but just as intimate as when he has you in his bedroom at the same time.

He can't hold back from telling you in a sweet voice, “You're beautiful. So beautiful.”

He closes his eyes, he listens to the drum of the rain for a second. Then, he grabs your waist, squeezing it carefully to let you know he's continuing, before lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

Aki is incredibly gentle when he enters you again, like he’s handling glass, easing inside of you slowly. But once he's halfway in, everything is so hot and wet and tight that he's nearly on the verge of losing control, he has to resist the urge to just fuck you senseless.

He exhales a shaky breath, you watch as his eyebrows furrow and God, it's so good, he's about to bottom out and it's such a snug, tight fit but it's just so right. All you can do is wiggle your hips and sigh feebly under the pressure, with Aki's forehead pressed to yours as he fills you.

He places one of his hands on your side, while the other grips your leg from where it's falling off the edge of the seat. He tosses it over his shoulder, he buries himself into the hilt.

“So good, Aki...” you gasp, your voice breathless, desperate. Aki leans down; his tongue flicks over your earlobe, he takes it between his teeth and sucks. His palms roam your body, gliding over your stomach and your sides. He kisses the shell of your ear, his warm breath fans out over it.

“God, please.” Your head tosses back, and you're begging for him to give you more, only for Aki to ignore your pleading.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and he kisses down your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. His lips reach your breast, he gazes fondly at the pretty shade of your skin before brushing his lips over your nipple. He licks it with the flat length of his tongue while he reaches down, bringing a free hand between your legs to rub soft circles over your clit with his thumb. You feel a wave of bliss twist up your spine, your cunt tightens around Aki's thick cock and his whole body shudders.

A shaky moan comes with your next words: “Aki… stop teasing. Please.”

You wiggle your hips, you whine and grip his shoulders tightly as he continues to kiss and suck on your breast, humming softly.

“Need you to fuck me, now, please, Aki?”

A ghost of a smile forms across Aki's face. He pulls away from your chest with a quiet pop, glancing up to meet your gaze. He mumbles, “You sound so cute… you want me to move, right?”

He rewards you with the slightest thrust of his hips, rutting himself into you, just a little bit. It's enough to make you gasp, to make you grip him tighter and tangle your fingers in his hair.

He knows you want him to move, he just wants to hear you say it.

Face warm and with your eyes screwed shut, you murmur his name senselessly, over and over again like a prayer, a plea. You mutter please, please, please again and again as Aki's lips ghost over yours, and then press to the side of your throat, where he kisses and lightly nibbles, leaving impressions of his teeth.

He tries to hold out, he tries to tease you as much as he can, only moving slightly, just enjoying the feeling of being buried deep inside you and the sound of your pretty voice. But it's hard to resist you, especially when you're begging for him. He longs to give you everything you ask for.

“Alright,” he murmurs, voice soft and gentle, “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll give you what you want.”

Aki rests his head on your shoulder, and as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbones, he quickens his pace, thrusting into you with deep, languid rolls of his hips. He reaches for your hands, pinning them above your head and threads his fingers with your own, holding them tightly.

He pulls back and meets your eyes; your gaze flickers over his and you watch his brows furrow from the building pleasure. Then, Aki leans in, all the way until he's kissing you and his tongue is slipping past your lips.

He begins to drill himself in fast, thrusting himself eagerly into you with long, deep strokes. The small space of the backseat causes his body to press up close to yours, and the perked buds of your nipples graze against his chest with every abrupt movement. Aki screws his eyes tightly shut, he lets go of your hands to hold the sides of your face as he kisses you. He focuses on the way your nails rake over his back.

He kisses you leisurely, deliberately, as if he's trying to capture every inch of your sweet taste on the tip of his tongue. You whimper into his mouth; his cock is hitting the spot that always makes you melt, it's causing you to arch your back into him. His tempo doesn't slow, nor does it falter. He continues to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and causing all your nerves to light up when his pelvis grinds into your swollen clit with each of his thrusts.

His hand steadies on the curve of your hip, he keeps the connection between your mouth and his as his palm trails lower, further downwards until it reaches the warmth of your cunt. You're soaked with both of your desires, your clit feels slick on his fingertips when he toys with it.

You grip him tightly, clutching onto him as if your bearings have been thrown and he is the only thing in this world that can keep you grounded — a solid rock amongst the heavy waves. You find sanity in the taste of his tongue, and stability in your hands grasping at his shoulder blades. He's close, so close.

He pulls away from your mouth, his warm breath mixes with yours, and you immediately gasp, “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Aki responds with a deep groan, his voice husky. “I won’t baby, I’ll give it to you as much as you want.”

He leans down, kissing the tip of your nose. And then, his tongue presses to your neck, he licks a long stripe up your skin, eliciting a stuttered whimper from your lips. Aki leans his head on your shoulder, he sighs into your nape. It's so cute, it's so sexy that you want him so badly. You're begging desperately under him, when moments earlier you were the one teasing him, like the little minx you always are.

You're always like this. You can tease him as much as you'd like, but he knows how much you need him. That's why you had him fuck you here, without being patient enough to wait for the two of you to get home.

The rain is just as steady as it was when you began. It overpowers the echo of Aki's skin hitting yours, it's a quiet sort of lull that soothes you the moment the sound fills your ears. Everything feels slow, warm and sleepy and tinged with electricity. Is this how things always were with him?

You reach for his face, you cup his cheeks and get him to look into your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you so much.” Aki responds immediately, breathlessly, and he slows down the rhythm of his thrusts.

In this beautiful instance of time, nothing matters, absolutely nothing but you.

You take him into your broad oceans of adoration, care, and unadulterated love. You sweep him out into your calm oceans and away from the rocky shores which expose the jagged edges of his past, a life already lived, that still manages to cut at his bones, that still digs deep into his sanity and claws at the worst of him.

Right now, you look heavenly, your hair splayed out onto the dark, leather seats, the warm light reflecting off your skin. Aki marvels at your beauty; the way the overcast lighting and shadows from outside cast over you makes you glow as if you're a piece of the moon itself, dislodged and sent down to earth to bring the brightest of lights into his life. An ethereal being for him to love and adore, who he's lucky enough to have all for himself.

Slowly, he works back to his previous pace, but his eyes never leave your form, he never stops gazing at you with such adoration and love. Your heart flutters ceaselessly inside of your chest.

Honestly, Aki is so turned on he's starting to lose control of himself. The mere sight of you underneath him, in the backseat of the company’s car, in the middle of an empty street — it’s something Aki couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams. And yet, it feels so lovely to have you here, so perfect, he just can't get enough.

The simmering pressure that's been building up in him, deep and potent, begins to rapidly pool in his core to the point where Aki is sure he won't be able to hold back for much longer. The coil in his stomach is tightening, winding and threatening to snap. His bottom lip is bitten to hell and back, and his parched throat murmurs your name with a harsh sense of yearning.

Aki looks down at you with a hooded gaze, but he ceases to break eye contact with you. His forearms support his weight on either side of your body as he continues to thrust in and out, following the rhythm that always makes you come undone for him.

Pleasure consumes him, it consumes you, you're joined in the most intimate way two people could become one. The act is sinful, but it's coated in the deep bond the both of you share, it's intertwined with pure love and utter devotion.

“A-Aki,” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, babbling as you beg, “I can’t, I have to… Aki, please, I-”

You interrupt yourself with a loud cry, tossing your head back as you immerse yourself in the very peak of your euphoria.

“Yeah?” Aki gasps back, fucking you deeply, perfectly, in the way that always brings you to the edge for him.

“Let go, sweetheart.” He's barely breathing the words, he grasps your chin and stares into your eyes. His thumb brushes over your lower lip. “Come for me – Come all over me.”

It’s impossible to say no. Not when his voice is so soft and convincing, so enticing. Not when he's fucking you this good, bringing you to heaven with every deep roll of his hips.

You can barely hear the rain outside anymore. The only thing you can focus on is the pleasure, the only sound filling your ears is the echo of Aki's heavy breaths and his desperate moans. You want to drown in this feeling forever, you want Aki's sweet words to melt into your skin, to brand you with his mark.

The whole car is shaking from the weight of Aki's thrusts as he fucks you into the seat. You're right on the edge, and one more deep thrust throws you over; your thighs shudder, you let go with a scream of his name. Aki works you through your bliss, drawing out your pleasure until the feeling of your walls clamping around his cock has him meeting his end along with you.

He groans your name, his head drops to your shoulder and his eyes screw shut. His thrusts grow erratic, clumsy, he mutters a mix of yes, and, I love you. He spills a warm load inside the condom as your walls throb around him, milking him for everything he has.

The white fades eventually, like lamplight dimming behind a shade. Your vision is hazy, the both of you are a sweaty mess in the backseat, and when you breathe in, it’s all musky and good and sweet, just the scent of sex and the feeling of Aki's body pressed closely to yours, his arms wrapped loosely around you.

After a few moments, Aki pulls out of you, and he pulls you close to him so you're huddled up to him. His heart is beating loudly in his chest, and you can feel it against yours. You breathe in and out, deeply, trying to steady your breathing. Aki does the same. Your hearts sync up to the same steady rhythm.

The afterglow begins to settle into Aki’s bones. His mind is a complete haze of pleasure, and the only thing on his mind is you, you, you. He sits up a little, and he turns to look at you, only to find that you're already staring back up at him with adoration in your eyes.

Aki stares into them for what feels like an eternity, stretches of time that must only be mere seconds, but feel like they've continued on for decades, horizons far beyond this unfairly short lifetime. Your gaze is his solace, his home. He knows he's too far gone.

When he says those three words again, it feels greater than the first time, more than the second. As if with every new time he confesses his love to you, the truth of it engraves itself deeper into his being.

Aki breathes, “I love you.”

You smile, you lean in and kiss his shoulder. “I love you too, Aki.”

Aki nuzzles your forehead weakly. He gives the two of you a few more moments to regain composure, and then he pushes himself up, discarding the condom and collecting both of your clothes. He helps you get dressed, he tugs his clothes on and adjusts them so they're just as neat as they were before. You hand him his hair tie as you finish buttoning up your shirt, and Aki ties his hair up before climbing into the driver's seat.

The rain has finally slowed down to a soft drizzle. Thankfully, when you climb into the passenger's seat and scan the road, you don't see anyone on the streets. You lean your head into the headrest, finally feeling the fatigue of the mission and the previous activities from earlier take over.

Aki looks towards you. He makes sure you're alright, he reaches for the keys and turns them in the ignition, firing up the engine.

You meet his eyes. One of his hands grips the steering wheel, and the other reaches for yours. He brings it close to his face, he presses a kiss to your knuckle. He lets go and settles his palm onto your thigh.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

a/n: pls forgive if you see any errors, dumblr likes to fuck up my posts for some reason.

#creaming in my pants when i wrote this #watch me not post for months again after this #feels good to put something out once in a while though #aki x reader #aki smut #aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #csm x reader #csm smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man smut #aki x you #aki hayakawa x you #hayakawa aki x you #hayakawa aki x reader

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pedroshotwifey · 22 days

Text

Should've Stayed Bored

Please understand that this is a crack fic based on this post by @bonezone44 and the comments made by @covetyou on said post ) Also tagging other commenters on that post: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog snowflake-blog@bubble-pop-eclectic @lunitawrites

Pairing: Chump!Joel Miller × fem!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: Joel Miller NOT being a sex god, left flap rubbing, mention of the clit, piv sex (if you could call it that), premature ejaculation, age gap, dad's buddy!joel miller, bad make out sessions, misplaced confidence, secondhand embarrassment, crack fic

Summary: You really need to learn to lower your expectations.

A/N: I actually had a great time writing this and think it turned out really fucking funny.

A/N pt. 2: Well, the og post got fucking deleted, but here it is again. Fucking pissed. I would really appreciate any interaction even if you already did the first time just so I can get it back out there </3

special thanks to @romanarose, @wannab-urs, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, and everyone else who helped me calm my tits and post this again. Love y'all ❤

*****

You’re bored out of your fucking mind. You’ve had four drinks and have walked in and out of the house probably a dozen times. For a neighborhood barbeque, it’s uneventful as hell. You would think that there would at least be a few interesting people out of so many. But no. So far there’s a group of old ladies gathered around the pool in sun chairs, their husbands around the grill talking about sports, and some kids—probably grandkids—running rampant around the yard.

That’s what your dad gets for moving into a retiree neighborhood. There’s only a few other households you know of that don’t host couples in their late sixties. Kind of like, speak of the devil, the Millers, who are walking in through the yard gate right now.

It’s only the two of them—Joel and his daughter, Sarah, who is only about eight. She runs off to go play with the other kids and you smile as you spot Joel struggling to carry a bowl and latch the gate back at the same time. You immediately take the opportunity to walk toward him.

You’ve always had your eyes on Joel Miller, even though he’s only a few years younger than your father. He’s a DILF in all ways that count. Sweet, responsible, and hot as hell.

“Hey, Mr. Miller,” you grab his attention as you reach where he’s still trying to balance everything. His face lights up when he sees you coming to help.

“Hey, darlin’, you don’t mind helpin’ me with this, do ya?” he nods his head to the gate.

“Nope, not at all,” you say sweetly as you get the gate latched behind him. He beams at you as he shifts to hold his dish with both hands. It looks heavy.

“Thank you. And please, call me Joel.” He flashes you a wink that makes your stomach flutter before he starts for the back door.

With nothing better to do, you follow him inside. He’s putting his bowl in the fridge when you close the door behind you and take a spot leaning against the counter. There’s nobody else inside right now, and you realize you might have just found your cure for boredom.

You slide up next to Joel as he stands up.

“What did you bring, Mr. Miller?” you ask him in an over the top sweet voice.

He shoots you a pointed look and takes a step back to put a few inches between the two of you.

“Potato salad,” he says flatly. “And please, it’s just Joel.”

“Well, Joel,” you take a step toward him again. “I’m bored.”

You swear you see him gulp, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. He glances out the window, probably looking for your dad manning the grill.

“Darlin’,” he says in warning. “I’m sure you can find something out there to do.”

You pout at him. “But I found something to do in here.”

“Honey, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” you banter. “You don’t want to fuck me, Joel? I see the way you look at me.”

He surges forward, trapping you against the counter. You smile wildly at him and throw your arms around his neck.

“Get your ass upstairs, now,” he growls. “Strip and wait on your bed.”

Your pussy flutters at his command, excitement building in your stomach.

“Yes, Mr. Miller. Don’t be long.” You flash him a wink and slide from in front of him to make your way upstairs. You feel his eyes on you until you reach the top step.

He only waits a little while, presumably to cover his bases so it doesn’t look like he’s sneaking off with his friend’s much-too-young daughter, before following you up. And by that time, you’re already naked and sitting on your bed.

He comes in and shuts the door behind him, making sure it’s locked tightly before turning around. Your eyes go to the massive tent in his pants, your tongue coming out to wet your lips.

“You’re fuckin gorgeous, darlin’,” he says as he takes a step toward you, already starting to unbuckle his jeans. He pulls his heavy cock out and your lips part. You’d expected him to be big, but holy shit.

“C’mon, baby, lay back for me.”

You let him push you down on your back, and then scootch up a bit so that you’re resting with your head on the pillows. Your body is practically humming with excitement and need. Being with an older man has always been something high up on your bucket list, because there’s no doubt they know how to properly pleasure a woman. And a man like Joel Miller…you can’t fucking wait.

He leans over you and takes your lips in a sloppy kiss. You wind your arms around him and arch your back, begging silently for him to touch you already. He slips his tongue inside your mouth, and your eyes widen.

He’s just…licking.

You find it really hot when a man uses his tongue to make out with you, but. Not like this. You rear your head back, trying to gain control of the kiss. But then his hand starts to trail down to your center and you decide, whatever, you can pick and choose your battles. You’ll let him do whatever the fuck he thinks he’s doing to your mouth as long as he gets those thick fingers inside of you already.

He trails down, down, oh, there, he pets your clit and you shiver, and then—

Then he continues down…and to the left.

He starts rubbing circles on your left flap, and you furrow your brows.

What the actual fuck??

You unwind your arms and start pushing on his chest until he pulls his tongue from your mouth to gaze down at you.

“Joel, you—”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that, don’t you, baby?”

You just blink at him. What?

He winks at you. “I know, darlin’, feels real good, huh?” He dips back down to start kissing you again, thankfully leaving his damn tongue out of it. His fingers increase pressure, which you can only guess would feel really good if he was actually rubbing your clit.

“Joel,” you mutter against his lips again, but it comes out smushed and smothered. Kind of like your poor pussy right now. Or the outside of it, at least.

“So impatient,” he laughs. “Hold on one second, baby, Mr. Miller’s got you.”

You resist the urge to cringe at that.

He taps your abused pussy lip twice and retracts his hand to grasp his cock, which you’re now worried about. Hopefully he knows how to fucking use that thing. He guides his tip to your entrance—or tries to, rather, and you groan in defeat. He rubs it up and down your slit, prodding every second or so.

“Yeah, baby, fuckin’ love those sounds you make for me.”

You just stare at him. You’re not going to even pretend. This is just insane. How the hell did he actually make a kid??

Finally, he finds your hole—the right one, thank god—and starts to push in. You’re still pretty wet from earlier, though you’re sure there will be no developments in that department. Thankfully, it’s enough to ease the stuttering glide.

Once he’s fully in, he starts to thrust, and you grip on to him, holding on to that last hope that maybe he can nail your g-spot with that weapon of his.

“M…Feel so g-good, baby,” Joel moans.

He thrusts once, twice, three times, moaning like a fucking animal.

And then he pulls out. And shakes above you as he spills his cum on your lower belly.

You stare at him in shock as he rolls over and collapses beside you. His eyes are closed as he pants and reaches a hand over you to touch your stomach.

“You came?” he asks.

You consider lying to him, but figure he doesn’t deserve that.

“No, Joel, I did not fucking come.”

“Oh, okay. Tha’s alright. Get you next time.”

You sit up and gape at him.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

He looks at you with confusion but gets up after a moment. He yawns, tucks himself into his pants, and struts for your door.

“Don’t be ashamed to ask for more, darlin’. I wouldn’t be opposed to doin’ this again sometime.” He sends you a wink and walks out of the room before you get the chance to say something you’ll regret more than whatever the fuck just happened.

You learned a valuabale lesson today: age really does not fucking matter.

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drchucktingle · 1 year

Text

this isnt a chess move

bad takes EVEN from left on jks game saying ‘you MUST be okay with this game because other things are WORSE’. folks protest how and when they can. for instance chuck is vegetarian when i see MEATLESS MONDAY buds i dont say ‘only one day a week dosent matter YOURE DOING IT WRONG’

i say 'thanks for helping bud'. devils constantly snarl: ‘curious you dislike this small thing BUT YOU ARE FINE WITH THIS THING THAT IS INESCAPABLE IN MODERN SOCIETY?’ yes bud that is called existence. seeing some on left side trotting out this point over a game is disappointing.

but that is besides the point really. there is such an obsession with PRACTICALITY and WHAT IS THE MOST UTILITARIAN WAY TO HAVE EFFECTIVE PROTEST that these buds are forgetting: they are talking about someone elses innate personal belief not a logically targeted DISPLAY of morals

telling a bud ‘your opinion is not effective protest so dont voice it’ is RIDICULOUS move. do you expect others to say: ‘youre right. now im okay with this game my thoughts and feelings were entirely utilitarian and theory based?' BUDS THIS ISNT A CHESS MOVE ITS A PERSONAL CHOICE

if someone dislikes game they have the RIGHT NOT TO PLAY IT and proclaim why. if they feel different about you because YOU play it thats not some innate form of ‘harassment’ its expression of their belief. you exist with other sentient beings and their separate thoughts sorry bud

this is so obvious. if you saw someone in your neighborhood walkin around picking up trash you wouldnt yell ‘WHERE THE HECK WERE YOU ON THE WEEKEND WHEN THERES THE MOST TRASH? THIS IS INEFFECTIVE YOU ARE WRONG FOR DOING THIS ON WEEKDAYS’. youd say: thanks for doing your part

and yet when it comes SPECIFICALLY to trans buds, so many (even on left side) are falling over themselves to tell trans buds ‘just play the game, its silly of you to care and your feelings dont matter because they are ineffective protest’ and to that i say ‘heck off'

your existence is not measured by how effective you are as a living protest. your opinions are not ranked by whether they can crumble a conglomerate. the act of loudly BEING YOURSELF alone proves love. for you, for your buds, and for others who are afraid to be loud themselves

unfortunately i do not think it is accident that even some left wing buds subconsciously view trans protest as a form of performance (whether they realize it or not) and OTHER protest as an expression of sincere belief. there is a long way to trot on this one

#love is real #trans rights #chuck tingle #tingleverse #buckaroo lifestyle

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pers1st · 2 months

Text

painkillers - alexia putellas x reader pt 2

pt 2 of dancing with the devil

pairing: alexia putellas x singer!reader

warnings: alcohol & drug abuse

songs used: you could start a cult - niall horan, painkillers - gracie abrams

If Lois noticed the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, he didn't mention it. You turned the radio on from the control in the back, desperate to escape the whistling thoughts in your head. They were bouncing from left to right, and all you could see was Alexia's face when she'd first spotted your bags. When she'd first realized you weren't going to spend the planned two days in Barcelona to watch her and Keira play. When she'd first realized you were leaving her.

Darling, I would give up everything...

You immediately turned the music back down. At this point, a tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away harshly, marking the skin a tint of red, leaving it stinging.

This song - Alexia had fallen in love with it once you'd showed it to her. Niall had reached out for a collaboration, as your manager had told you, and you, as always, wanted to hear your girlfriend's opinion. It had been before the start of her tour, and the two of you had been laying, bodies tangled, in her bed, sheets draped over your glistening nude bodies.

Alexia was the first person to hear every song you wrote, no matter where on the planet you were located, no matter how grainy her vision of you was, no matter how distorted your guitar or keyboard sounded out of her phone's speaker. She had loved it. She had urged - no, begged you to sing it to her that night, and all thought you had had to look up the lyrics, of course you had. You hated singing for other people when you were away from your job, wanting more than anything to not be the singer, but you did everything Alexia wanted, unable to refuse the dimples on her cheek when she smiled at your voice.

You took a sip of your water bottle. If Lois noticed there was vodka in it, he didn't say. At this point, you didn't even pull a face anymore, accepting the burn on your throat as a mere side effect.

Today, you deserved a drink. Leaving Alexia had, despite your preparation, hurt more than you had expected it to, and if you were going to have one last drink, one last bottle of vodka disguised as water, it was going to be today.

Once you touched down in Boston for your next concert, two days earlier than planned, you would stay sober.

The plane wasn't comfortable, though it was better than a commercial flight, and you fell asleep against your window the second you sat down, your head rolling against the cold glass in your deep slumber. The alcohol made you weary, and if Lois and Michael, your security, hadn't been watching you so closely, you would've dug into your purse for the bag of white powder, disguised under lipgloss, your polaroid camera and a whole bunch of other useless stuff. Just to ease the pain. Just to jerk you awake, maybe enough for a party later.

But you hadn't, and so instead, you had finished your water bottle and spent the minutes waiting to board in silence.

Your team was, at this point, used to your mood. They spent every day with you, and had been doing so for the past three months. At first, they had joined you on your parties and adventures happily, but now they were growing more and more concerned.

Michael noticed you took too long every time you went to the bathroom, steading yourself on his arms more and more each time. He noticed how you didn't react when you'd cut your leg on a broken bottle, shrugging the injury off before he could haul you away from the dance floor. He noticed how you called Alexia less and less, and he knew, when you'd announced you would simply be stopping by to gather some things in Barcelona, that the two of you were over.

The two of you had, at one point, been close enough for him to ask you why, but he knew now that you wouldn't answer. Speaking to you was touch and go, your mood never being predictable. Sometimes, the drugs made you angry and you lashed out on him, sometimes, the booze made you clingy and you swung your arm over his much taller shoulder to tell him how much you appreciated him, sometimes, everything was too much and you didn't speak at all.

Today was one of those days. You only awoke when the plane touched down in Boston, and you were passed out in the car once more. Finally falling into your hotel suite's double bed, you reached for the phone to dial room service. One last glass of wine. The vodka had upset your stomach, and you felt sick now. Wine was good for that. It made the slight ache in your gut disappear.

By the time you woke up the next morning, you were hungover, and Keira was upset.

"You have some explaining to do", Keira yelled over the phone when she had finally called you enough times for you to awake and answer her.

With squinted eyes, you stared at your best friend.

"Keira", you groaned, putting a hand to your forehead in an attempt to drown out the dull ache.

"No, don't Keira me. You broke up with her?!"

At this, you sat up, flicking on the little lamp on your bedside table.

"Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to."

A gulp found its way down your throat. Alexia was never one to show her feelings during football, and although her and Keira had grown quite friendly due to your relationship and the two of them being teammates. Still, you knew Keira wasn't the one she would go to about this. The fact that Alexia had been whatever enough for Keira to notice concerned you.

"What was I supposed to do? It didn't work anymore", you shrugged. The words twisted your stomach, and you were scared that if you took a deep enough breath in, the truth would spill out like bile. Keira didn't know any of your struggles. Keira didn't know why you had ended your relationship. Keira couldn't know.

"Make it work then! You two were so happy", Keira sighed.

"No, we weren't, Kei, and you know this. When was I supposed to make it work? I'm in the US until the end of the year, I'm touring through Europe afterwards. Ale and I... It was just time", you shrugged, wiping away the tears that once more appeared in the corners of your eyes.

"If a relationship doesn't work, you make it work!"

"Oh, like how you and Lucy did?!"

Silence fell between the two of you. You knew you had overstepped a line, but it didn't matter. Keira was overstepping too.

Keira took a deep breath in. You were right. She knew it too.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Like the next album is going to be really fucking good."

Humor was a deflection for you and Keira knew it. She stared at you with a furrowed brow, nose crinkled.

"Just.. don't sulk, okay? Enjoy your tour, don't lock yourself in your room again. I can't wait to see you on Christmas."

A faked smile found its way onto your face. It was soft, not overdoing it just to ensure Keira would believe you. There was not a single cell of your body that cooperated with the way your lips tugged upwards, but it worked nonetheless. Keira smiled back at you.

"I've got to go now, we're meeting for the game soon. I love you."

"I love you too."

Keira was the only person, along with your mother, who had ever heard those words from you. Except for Alexia. Speaking them felt like a crime, but you were a criminal already. There was no way to undo what you had done, and Keira had told you to enjoy the rest of your tour. So that was what you did. Or, well, attempted to do.

In all honesty, the drugs were the only thing keeping you afloat. The oxycodone left horrible shadows under your eyes and when you awoke, you were sweaty, nauseous, you weren't yourself. Your team noticed it as well, and so did the bassist of your tour band, who kept supplying you with what he called "his good stuff".

Party after party, drink after drink, line after line. In all honesty, it was a miracle that you made it as long as you did.

Alexia hadn't heard from you since the breakup, officially. Unofficially, however, she watched every livestream of your shows with the fake TikTok account she had dedicated to saving videos of you. Your missing phone calls afterwards didn't go unnoticed, of course, but Alexia knew that there was no use in reaching out to you. She had tried, only to find out you had blocked her number, so instead of celebrating yet another successful show of yours via the phone, she wept and wept in the bed you had once shared, not allowing the shadows underneath her eyes to be visible to her teammates, nor the tearstained cheeks.

This livestream, a week after your breakup, was far more grainy than the prior ones. She assumed that there was bad connection, as she stared at Keira's iPad from the seat behind the strawberry blonde woman, but she was quite grateful for not having to see your face in as good quality, because she needed to listen, to focus, when you announced that you'd be playing a brand new song. This was her chance - her chance at finding out what exactly had caused her breakup. She had known that while traveling with the team, she wouldn't be able to watch the show the way she usually did, and as much as she hated to admit, she had chosen the seat behind Keira and Aitana strategically.

The two were sitting, heads together, in front of Kei's screen, staring at the grainy image of you wobbling around on your stage.

"I've written this song very recently, but I want to share it with you guys."

Ale's brows furrowed as Mapi, next to her, took out her earphones.

"Es Y/N?", your ex-girlfriend's best friend asked, nudging Ale's shoulder slightly.

"Sì´", Aitana answered, nodding with her eyes still focused on the screen. Mapi lunged herself forward, blocking Ale's view entirely, but the captain didn't have it in herself to complain. All she needed was to hear. The stream was loud enough for the rest of the bus to hear, and all though she wasn't the best in English, she had sure learned since being with you.

"I don't have a title just yet", you spoke into the microphone as soft chords began echoing through the speaker.

"So you might have to wait until I release it. If I release it."

Although she couldn't see, Alexia could envision the way you sat by your piano in a sea of a crowd, in a sold out stadium, with all the eyes on you, swaying softly with the flow of your melody.

I almost liked the way you fooled me

To make me feel like this would last forever.

But twice at night, I'd wake up sweating

To sleep without you here would do me better

I called you out and labeled you a problem

I should know that it takes one to know one.

Alexia sucked in a breath at that, as did everyone else. She had never heard your voice this monotone, this void of emotion, and it worried her. Above all else, though, she was confused. You had labeled her a problem? You would be better to sleep without her?

You represent the codependence,

I was down, you wore the shining armor.

The side effect is cold resentment,

Tricked me into thinking you were stronger.

She didn't understand. You had never been codependent on Alexia. The two of you had been a clingy couple, yes, but you had done your own thing, you had your own career, as did Alexia, and the both of you blossomed in sharing it. There had never been a moment where you had depended on her. And above all, you resented her? Then why had you cried when you'd left her? Why hadn't you been angry? Why had you never told her why?

Hold me slowly,

you don't even know me.

Home now, lights out,

pictures just destroy me.

Come through late, and

tell me that you want it bad.

"Whoa, Ale, ¿qué le hiciste an ella?” (What did you do to her?) Mapi whispered into her ear as the song ended and cheers erupted, and although Alexia had a few nasty remarks in her mind at what to tell her best friend, she was frozen in place. All of her teammates had been listening, and all of them were now staring at her. Just as Aitana's head vanished to the window, she caught a glimpse of you again, standing up from your seat wobbly.

A thought crossed her mind, for merely a second - Were you drunk?

But she didn't have time to think about it any longer, plugging her earphones in again, putting her head against the window to not watch the three songs she knew were left, shutting the world, and most importantly, her team out.

The silence didn't last long. The headlines came an hour later. That's what it had taken for her to realize that you hadn't sung about her at all. By the time the final whistle went in Madrid, she learned you were fighting for your life, somewhere in New Jersey. By the time the final whistle went in Madrid, her world was shattered in a totally different way.

notes: okay there’ll be a pt3 i promise !! sped home from work to write this bc i’m in love w this plot tbh, let me know what you think <3

#woso soccer #womens football #barcelona femeni #barca x reader #barca femeni #alexiaputellas #alexia putellas x reader #alecia putellas imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #Spotify

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sunboki · 5 months

Text

⎯ THE DEVIL'S PLAYTHING a Christopher Bahng fiction

💣 : Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. bodyguard au, demon au, friends to lovers, eventual smut, minors DNI

WORD COUNT. 6.6k words

WARNINGS. chan & han are demons(NO POLY), mentions of lucifer/the devil, eventual smut, descriptive violence, smoking, fighting, cursing, blood, wounds, drinking, reader gets drunk/passes out

PLAYLIST

AUG'S NOTES. this started as a random blurb while in the bathroom(tmi i know) but i just HAD to make a longer adaptation!! as usual, if you enjoy the fic please feel free to leave feedback & a reblog!ised ya’ll bodyguard chan would be back.. your wish is my command~

SYNOPSIS. A petty robbery leads to deep debt for Chan, a white-eyed demon occupying Hell. So eventually, he finds himself faced with no choice but to go job hunting. The best offer available? A bodyguard gig in the human realm. Oh, and the worst part? Jisung’s here too.

or alternatively :

When Chan had to leave Hell to "babysit" (a.k.a. protect) you in the human realm, he wasn’t expecting for things to turn out the way they did — in more ways than one.

SMUT WARNING. usage of the nickname “bunny” and “good girl”, somewhat hinted size kink, praise, dumbification, barely dubcon (reader gives consent ; nonverbal), creampie, chan cums inside (use protection ya’ll), monsterfucking! basically lmao

There’s an infinite list of reasons why humans shouldn’t associate with demons. But was it really all that important? Maybe the humans wanted it.

Or, maybe the demons did too.

Maybe, the demons didn’t have a choice.

What a funny thought.

Although, for Christopher Bahng, a demon himself, it was reality.

So the real question stood. Is it the humans that shouldn’t associate with demons, or the other way around?

The thought occurred to Chan at some point, but his head, ringing with the sound of silver coins clattering on glass surfaces, drowned out every ounce of sensibility. Blood, flesh, he was a demon. And right now, he had hell to pay as Lucifer’s underling. No pun intended.

Demons were an ideal choice for bodyguards, too obsessed with their own greed to pay any mind to the consequences, dogs to somebody else’s beckon, minds trained like hunting dogs.

Taking care of the dirty work, for a price.

A price that Chan needed, desperately. Because one thing demons, including himself, love doing is tormenting.

That is until he’s the victim of the tormenting, and all of a sudden the experience doesn’t feel too welcoming.

Raiding his home was an understatement considering they had utterly demolished every inch, not leaving a single fragment remaining in one piece. Granted, he didn’t cry about it. Instead, he lived up to his name, his title.

..Let’s just say he doubted the red stains would ever leave that shirt of his, metallic scent strong enough to make your nose burn.

Unfortunately, Lucifer wasn’t the greatest at forgiving, and he determined rather quickly this was only the start of his problems regardless of how sweetly the demon lord threatened explained he would dissolve Chan into ash if he ever got tired of him.

Alas, two weeks later, he gets a call.

Combing a frustrated hand through raven-colored locks, he holds the phone up to his ear, repeatedly snapping his fingers. The girl kneeled between his legs raises up begrudgingly, wiping her mouth and disappearing into his bathroom.

Well there goes a good blowjob.

Yet, finally, a job was proposed.

Multiple, according to the drone of a fumbling assistant. Jobs comprised of one he’d primarily work and occasional hitman gigs on the side.

Catch? The job was located in the human realm. Not impossible, but not as easy as sleuthing in Hell, where common folk were demons and not big-eyed, nosy, mind-your-damn-business-mortals.

The job in question? Babysitting. Specifically for Lucifer's right-hand man, otherwise known as the Devil’s Plaything. And, despite not being a demon, served Lucifer as if he was one. How cute.

Or as the trauma-induced auditor phrased it, “guarding” some girl.

“Guarding” was something he was mildly familiar with, but never a human. Never in the human realm. So when the suggestion was offered, Chan’s first instinct was to reject—remind Hell’s moderator that he wasn’t just a regular, but a demon of impressive status. A white-eyed demon, who, in fact, ranged most powerful of its kind.

His first instinct was also to punch the man working at the register of this putrid smelling burger joint right in the face, maybe frame his head as a part of a collection while he’s at it. Demons are creative like that.

Because being in this situation, nonetheless currently walking around in the human realm he swore to never step foot in has his stomach jarring.

“Chan, look at this! It’s called K-E-T-C-H-U-P, what a funny name!”

Oh. Yeah. The walking headache, Han Jisung. Forgot he’s here too.

Digging through his pockets for spare change, all he could find was a few meager pennie’s as the obnoxious noise of his demon-companion scarfing down a double cheeseburger had Chan’ jaw progressively tightening.

“Um, sir, that’s not enough to pay for-“ Without hesitation, Chan lifted his upper lip with his index, revealing the sharply pointed canines underneath and effectively silencing the apron-clad employee, frantically printing his receipt without another word.

Yes, apparently there are perks of being a hell-spawn.

Although, the burger still tasted like shit. What a shame.

Heading to the location wasn’t all too difficult, being that it was rather easy locating such an enormous property surrounded by tall, black hinged gates. The passcode… was another story.

Lucifer was likely laughing his ass off watching them try figuring this out.

“Okay, It’s probably like 666 or something- JESUS— you guys scare me sometimes.” Clutching a hand to his erratic heart with panic, a pacing Jisung nearly toppled over as his soon-to-be Boss suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gates slowly opening behind him.

He may not be a Demon, but by how nonchalantly he appeared from thin air, he seemed to gain some attributes over the years.

It didn’t take long for either of them to figure out why the title “Devil’s Plaything” was attached, because the more he toured them around this palace of a house, the more he told of his reasons for hiring them in the first place. Well, more like why Lucifer sent them here.

Easily speaking, his and Jisung’s role would be to protect you at all costs, considering your father’s current predicament (a.k.a coming under investigation for the bodies discovered in Hanuel Park). Not to mention the countless assassins sent on a daily basis, scouring the property for entryways.

Although he’s not surprised by their hesitance. This man, Yoon L/N, was the closest resemblance to the Devil on Earth.

He was terrifying, and coming from a demon, that said a lot.

Chan has to watch his tongue, because he’s not guarding another one of hell’s representatives, a creature of unprecedented rudeness and hatred, he’s guarding a human.

Someone who falls in love and cries, someone who can’t get away with murder when they’re annoyed and go uncharged.

Humans are pitiful. They’re emotional and too trusting and—

You step down the stairs.

They’re pretty and soft and really, really fucking pretty.

The sound of your father clearing his throat rips him from his trance, your trance.

He can practically sense Jisung choking on his laughter.

“Y/n, these are your bodyguards. Bahng, Han, this is Y/n,” He gestures, and Chan notes the gleaming watch on his wrist.

Best guess that thing’s averaging $70,000. Not to mention that this entire house, though naked to the human eye, is laced in traps.

Whether it’s the more hollow wooden plank on the floor that triggers some alarm or the multitude of switches under your kitchen’s island, the security system is certainly intact, and for good reason.

However, you couldn't have made Yoon L/n’s actions look more hypocritical, appearing so opposingly sweet.

“Nice to meet you,” You hold out a hand.

He doesn’t miss the half-smile you give him.

Shit. Don’t look at him like that.

Introducing themselves, you momentarily slip past, and in your stead, your father beckons either of them to the side.

“I’ll only say this once,” Yoon smiles, but it’s a leery smile, one that causes his gums to gradually show, like it’d belong to a murderer, a serial killer of some kind.

Fitting.

“Get her into danger, hurt her, or disobey my orders under any circumstances and I kill you, understood?”

And even though at the snap of a finger Chan could have this man drop dead, he believed him, both simultaneously nodding their heads without complaint.

Meeting eyes with Jisung, a common denominator sits heavy between them, most likely the first thing they’ve whole-heartedly agreed on this entire time.

This is gonna be one hell of a job.

.. .

District 9’s nightclubs are always a bust. If you’re looking for a drink without it being laced you might as well give up, and the only thing that keeps a person from getting swept away in the expansive sea of high heels, go-go boots, and awkward teenagers that miraculously managed to get past the bouncer is a lone, blinking red sign that reads “OUT”.

The first time you ever came here you never thought you’d be so relieved to open a squealing door.

Leaning against the side of the brick building sits the girl responsible for an entourage of drunk-calls and random texts of her location when she sneaks out.

Her moth-eaten sneakers are pulled up to her chest, bleached hair messily arranged into a spiky up-do while she aimlessly scrolls on her phone. Although you know she’s noticed you by now.

“I feel like..” She sighs, black mascara smudged beneath her waterline. “I should’ve taken that Vodka shot.”

You wrinkle your nose, dropping down on her left.

It’s fairly easy conversing with Ha-joon, a girl who didn’t require a reaction or a response, who didn’t talk much but had a whole pocketful of opinions. And you listened.

She swivels her head ever so slightly toward you.

“Do you think drinking a laced shot will make my life more interesting?” Her remark scarily nonchalant, you chuckle, snatching the joint from between her thumb and index and tossing it against the neighboring business’ wall in front of you.

Unfazed, she rises to her feet, pulling a Marlboro pack from her back pocket, palm cupping the lighter’s flickering flame.

“If you count fentanyl as a good time, then sure,” Lifting your chin to cock a sarcastic brow, she rolls her eyes before abruptly snapping her fingers, remembering. The sound ricochets off trash bags stashed at the furthest end of this deserted alleyway.

“You said your Mafia-daddy hired new bodyguards?”

Ah, you forgot you mentioned that.

Don’t mind the “Mafia-daddy” part.

Nodding, there’s a beat of stillness before she lightly nudges your calf with her shoe, Ha-joon’s sign for you to list some sort of detailed description for her to piece together.

This happens every time you meet somebody new. Her little guessing game before the first impression, apparently.

And so you do, spilling information to the best of your capabilities from the fifteen seconds you met them. Their hair, height, eyes (you recall Han’s especially, huge and hypnotizing like black-holes), clothing, and all the details your jumbled brain can pour out to your overly eager, easily bored best friend.

“So this Chan guy..”

One clever glance and you’re already predicting her next words.

“Does he have a big nose?” Smirk growing the darker your cheeks redden, you pathetically groan, burying your face in your hands.

Of course she’s cornered you, because you can’t deny your yes of an answer without evidently lying and digging further into your self-made rabbit hole.

Leave it to Ha-joon to secretly slip the raunchiest sentence you'll hear all night.

Smugness gradually dissipating, the barely-blonde shuffles back down, phone screen displaying countless messages you don't ask about.

Like earlier, Ha-joon doesn’t talk much, but she has a lot to say. Additionally, if she doesn’t bring it up herself, don’t mention it.

Years by her side taught you that.

“They’re only gonna get you in trouble, I have a feeling,” She murmurs prior to taking a long drag of her cigarette, lipstick shade perfectly contrasting with the soaring puff of smoke sifting from her mouth and nose upon exhaling.

She’s always been on the rougher side. Spontaneously rough, the type that would impulsively send you a text she’s going backpacking tomorrow despite an exam scheduled, the type that would continuously run away on a whim.

In essence, everyone on campus has some sort of crush on her (apart from yourself, obviously), whether it comes down to her rumbling persona or how much of a hard-core lesbian she is, you’re not sure.

You click your tongue, glaring at her flippantly.

“And that’s not doing you any better.” Musing in regards to her bad habits, she laughs lowly, low-rise jeans bagging down by her ankles while bending closer.

Your hands brace in anticipation, coughing when she blows a heavy smoke plume right in your face.

You choke a giggle, shoving her senselessly giggling frame.

“The only thing I’m letting do me is that waitress in there,” Painted nails pointing to the entrance while making utterly obscene gestures, you dramatically gag.

Well, until she spins on her heel, fetching a plastic bag holding two bottles of Cass beer from behind a metal trash can.

You tilt your head, the girl wordlessly cracking one open with her teeth and the other using the junction of her shoulder.

‘A Ha-joon thing’, you think as she hands you a glass, chilled exterior sending an unwelcoming wave of shivers throughout your body.

Your initial response is to decline, but her index to your lips shushes your reasons.

“I know you don’t drink often, but just a few sips just this once, please?” Batting invisible puppy-dog eyes, you sigh, gulping down a haphazard swig.

Last time you had genuinely gotten drunk was back in junior year of high school, all the kids swarmed in a rando’s basement, acting appropriately irresponsible for your age.

You recall your fat crush on Hwang Hyunjin (before realizing he was actually in a relationship) being the main component in getting so drunk that you blacked out, though you’re sure the highly unflattering pictures Ha-joon took would jog your memory.

Yet just a few sips was an understatement, something you should’ve known. Because conversation turns into more conversation, funny conversation, deep conversation while your wrist unconsciously lifts to your mouth till your friend transforms into nothing but a blurry figure illuminated by the moon.

And you wonder, as you feel yourself tilt further and further toward the cement below, if Ha-joon will snap unflattering pictures of this moment too, of stupid decisions leading to stupid consequences.

Most likely.

.. .

"Mmm." You mumble, face stuffed into his sleeve as Chan carries you from the alleyway, ushering a loopy Ha-joon into a taxi with a short bow.

Clad in his work attire primarily made up of black elements, he carefully places you in the back seat of the SUV and pulls off his dark coat to wrap around your body, ensuring you're fully swaddled to secure as much warmth as possible from the biting cold.

"We're going home, so hang on just a bit longer for me." The man assures, patting your head lightly before sliding into the driver's seat and pressing his foot to the gas.

Han, who was sitting in the back beside you while Chan drove, took experimental peeks at the pink-hue decorating your cheeks (evidence that you'd be drunk) to your puffy lips pursed in a pout.

He internally squeals, fiddling with his phone in his pocket, unveiled demon tail practically wagging with glee.

"Hyung, can I? Pleasee Hyung- just one photo she looks so cute–“

“No." The older of them responds sternly, one hand clutching the steering wheel.

As much as he normally wouldn’t care, this was his- their first actual order in fulfilling their duties, and Chan wasn’t willing to pay the price of fucking up Yoon’s guidelines.

His companion huffs, deflating by your side as he directs a childish frown at Chan in the mirror, only met with an equally stern gaze reading "no nonsense".

Chan had always been one to take his job seriously, not that Han didn't, he just liked having a little bit of fun jumping from side to side across those permanent marker drawn lines.

In actuality, if it weren't for his friend, Han would've never gotten the job in the first place.

Stark glowing of your houses’ lights lining the driveway ripped away his thought process, quickly intervening when your door opened.

"I can carry her," He claims, arms crossed while the older bodyguard simply cocks a brow, an action that shouldn't have Jisung shying away like he was.

There's an immense staring contest until Chan releases a hefty sigh, gesturing for Jisung to go ahead.

"If you drop her, I kill you, then myself."

This earns a giggle while Han unbuckles your seatbelt, softly cooing with you lying in his arms.

You're cute, very cute in fact.

Very off limits, in fact, he reminds himself, grip tightening the creepier he pictures your father—and it’s the adorable scrunch of your nose in discomfort that reminds him of his strength, immediately relaxing his hold.

Like Chan said, any wrong moves and they're both off the radar in seconds. Business.

The entirety of it all was a bit hilarious considering how things were when you'd first been introduced to the two, not appearing to be the type to get drunk like this, to get drunk at all in a secluded area next to some nightclub.

Chan wasn’t wrong when he said it’s always a surprise with clients.

Well, he was referring to his hitman job then, but it's still applicable in this situation, right?

…Right?

Forget it.

Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes peel open, instantly noticing the familiar smell and interior that definitely wasn't where you'd been five minutes ago with Ha-joon.

Ah. There he is.

Chan.

Peering over where you're tucked in bed, dressed in pajamas.

Hold on, pajamas?

Scrambling up and simultaneously wincing from the throbbing headache settling a dull ring in your ears, you send him an incredulous stare, face incessantly warming the longer you think about it.

Hangovers provide another of the many reasons why you don’t drink anymore, because this hellish predicament led to a single hellish explanation you certainly didn’t want to face.

"You... My clothes.." Stumbling over how to phrase it, you suppress a scowl watching the ghost of a grin make its way on his lips. Maybe you're imagining it.

One of his veiny hands reaches up to cover his eyes, leaving you to instead infatuate upon plush lips moving when he speaks.

"My job description, along with the papers you read and signed before I was hired gave me consent, but whatever I see is strictly confidential between you and I."

Gathering your sanity, you scoff, humiliation and embarrassment flooding your system at an alarming rate.

Flopping back onto the bed, you slam a pillow over your face, muttering a "strictly confidential my ass" that he had to have heard from the low laugh uttered in reply.

He stalks over, fingertip tapping the water you hadn’t noticed sitting atop your nightstand.

Cautiously stealing a glimpse out from your pillow to see where he distanced himself across the room, you finish the cup in a swift motion, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve.

“You huma- You aren’t good with your alcohol, are you?” He starts, quite entertained witnessing your annoyed gaze, one which very noticeably doesn’t stay focused on his eyes.

Sucking your teeth, you slouch, mirroring his crossed arms.

You’re fine with playing feisty, and by the awfully attractive way he’s cocking his head, he’s also willing to join this biting game.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Because I’m never passed out and in need of someone to call for me when I go drinking.”

At this you practically hiss, grasping any futile chance to retaliate to no avail.

Opposed to his teasing nature, he drags a stool to your bedside, insisting you drink more.

Even more opposing, a gentle hand presses to your forehead, checking that you haven't contracted a fever.

To say your heartbeat pounded didn’t credit the surprise to its full extent, and thank whatever God above the experience only lasted a few more seconds, giving you plenty of time to freshen your haywire sensibility and brush your teeth before any more soul-sucking Chan run-ins continued.

You should’ve known better than to think he’d truly leave you be though, said soul-sucking bodyguard currently propped against the bathroom’s door frame.

“How did you get into this anyway? Y’know, bodyguard stuff..” You begin to ask, voice muffled from the toothbrush deterring any fully audible sentence.

He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have my ways.”

“Your ways?”

Within split seconds he’s right next to you, making rather intentional eye contact through the mirror.

You inhale sharply.

“Look, sweetness, my job as your bodyguard is to keep you safe,” He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “And if I tell you, I can’t guarantee that.”

There are three things you realized in that moment.

One, Chan is so, so close.

Two, he has an unfairly gorgeous face.

And three, your mouth is smeared with toothpaste.

Great.

You’d like to admit the first night of meeting these new bodyguards, more specifically Chan, went as normal and as non-Ha-joon-influenced as possible, but this effect on you causing your bloodstream to erupt in a hormonal frenzy of attraction told you the story had just begun.

.. .

"Jisung. Hold. Still! Keep moving and this wand is going in your eyeball."

Three weeks in and one thing after another has lead you closer and closer with either of them, whether it's convincing Jisung to go on ice cream runs (where Chan always ends up tagging along) or attempting to remain focused while they help you study (more like trying not to laugh at Jisung and averting your eyes off of Chan’s biceps in that muscle-shirt of his), the three of you are practically conjoined at the hip, and not on bodyguard standards.

"Okay okay! I was itchy. Can you move the piece of hair by my eyebrow?" He whines, grasping an apologetic squeeze on your waist while you focus in his lap.

You’re currently brushing mascara through his unfairly long lashes, but if anyone saw this without knowing the situation, chaos would likely unfold.

Although for you and Jisung, it's your average Friday night spent watching the weekly scary movie he’d decided on, Insidious. One he’d been commenting on for the past thirty minutes or so about how the “representation of demon’s was wrong” while you absentmindedly agreed, looping your index around the strand before abruptly stopping.

Residing slightly above his temple lay a scar, a decently sized scar at that.

Strangely enough, it's circular, like some type of horn or something had been there at some point. Maybe a biking incident?

"Ji?”

The boy's eyes drift up to you.

"What's this scar?"

Below you, he freezes, frantically thinking up the best excuse.

Lots of options, not a lot of time to decide.

"Ah.. that? When I was younger, I developed a weird kind of bump there, 'had it removed." And thankfully, you grunt a response, resorting back to applying his makeup.

Truth be told, those scars (another you hadn't seen yet) were his old horns, forced to be removed in order to initially land this job.

It still sends shivers down his spine thinking about when they had first been cut off, the recovery process resembling something out of nightmares.

Trust, the headaches were awful.

Chan, on the other hand, could keep his, considering he had the ability to conceal them on command. For Jisung, an inferior red-eyed demon with a few years beneath him and in such desperate need for income, chose the painful way through. As for his tail, that was luckily simple to hide (much to his pleasure).

Nevertheless, you could confidently say that your test-subject could easily land a modeling career after your makeover, and by the way he kept staring at the mirror, he seemed equally as enamored as you.

Well, that’s before a jumpscare leaps upon the screen and either of you shoot up, your clumsy companion whacking himself in the face with the mirror.

Staving your giggles, you try soothing the boy; you really do, but the uncannily gory scene that decorates the screen has you cringing back, and when you look at Jisung, expecting to find him cowering, your blood runs cold.

His lips are parted, but the only thing your horrified eyes are drawn to are the hooked canines peeking there. Not to mention his eyes.

Ghastly crimson, glowing.

Except when you breathe in an unsteady gasp, his head snaps to you, sudden facade appearing unaltered, like you hadn't seen something borderline terrifying.

Softly pulling your face close to him despite the screaming instinct to flee, he observes your bewildered expression, brows taut with concern.

“Y/n?”

Sweet tone contradicting, you immediately double backward toward your bedroom door, awkwardly honing the “I’m going to bed” excuse in hopes that suffices for the night.

Frenziedly closing the door, you determine rather quickly you don’t plan to go to sleep. Not that you think you could, but because this discovery isn’t normal.

None of this is normal.

How they found your location back at the alley despite Ha-joon never contacting anyone, how you “coincidentally” walked in on Chan “washing” his hands despite the water running red. Oh and you can’t forget about the rag left behind, putrid stench characteristic to a specific substance.

Blood.

You weren’t stupid. No father disappears the majority of the year on so-called “business trips” only to come back with new cuts and scratches he makes a sorry effort denying, and no daughter of his has literal bodyguards (yet you’re not sure they’re even official bodyguards thanks to your suspicions) glued to her side 24/7.

He does something dangerous, you know without doubt. But according to this hunch of yours, your father may not be the only one tied up in illegal madness.

.. .

Slipping into the car unknown to them was far easier than you anticipated.

You didn't plan on sneaking in in the first place, sure, but upon overhearing their hushed conversation regarding some type of “target”, you assumed whatever topic they were discussing may answer a select few of your billions of burning questions.

So, crouched in the floorboard of the backseat, you try muting your breathing, noting the clutter of metal sounding from your left, whatever responsible assumed to be shoved in the trunk.

Weapons. No mistaking it.

Your discovery is short-lived however, and you flatten yourself the best you can as Han twists around in his seat to grab something, already thirty minutes into your nearly secret mission.

Shit.

His shocked scream tells you enough.

Chan is fuming.

"Jisung, you told me she was asleep. So care to explain why the fuck she's in the back of the car?"

Han frantically flails. "For the record I told you she was lying down–”

"I. Don't. Care! She's not supposed to be here and all that matters right now is that she's at home and in bed, understood?"

As Jisung's lips pull into a tight line and Chan cranks the gear shift into drive, you glance around, a sudden–though risky–idea coming to mind.

"Hey, I could always tag along?"

"No!" They both shout in unison, heads jerking back to face you as if you suggested driving off a cliff.

That sounded much better in your head anyway.

Well there goes that.

Or so you thought.

Because unfortunately for them, wherever needed them needed them urgently, and through many clearly vocalized “she is staying in the car”’s, you weren’t driven home after all.

Fluorescent green lights cast an eerie glow across the perimeter, the location gnawing at your gut. An equestrian center by exterior, though there’s something else.

Wrong. You can’t explain it, but this place is wrong.

Discreetly unloading the guns, you skin crawls observing Chan messily stuff bullets into the magazine of a M240, the mere size of the thing setting your nerves ablaze. And as rightful asking questions seems, you can’t.

That feeling from earlier glues your mouth shut, like if you spoke too loudly, someone, something, would find you.

Thick foliage lay highlighted by your headlights, paving depth into sequential darkness.

You squint, zoning in on a small expanse of branches ajar. An ideal hiding spot.

Wait.

Bright flashes of iron spur your legs into motion, the switchblade cleaning slicing your wrist while mid-duck.

It forks into the car’s interior where the trunk had been opened, your cry of pain muffled by Jisung who basically throws himself inside a stall with you, the stomping of horse’s hooves muting your ragged breathing.

Firing belonging to none other than the machine gun Chan had been wielding pierces the air outside as either of you stay pressed to the stable wall, the pad of footsteps drawing nearer, causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

This is it. You’re going to die.

Much to your relief, it’s Chan, tactical holsters slightly torn, sweat beading his forehead.

The two share a look, remaining silent before delivering an eventual, affirming nod.

Short-lived.

An additional attacker sifts from the shadows, facial expression ushering no other logic than to kill.

Manic eyes, estranged eyes.

The older bodyguard spins, successfully blocking the first hit. Supplies are scattered everywhere, horses beginning to shift uncomfortably.

The perpetrator is faster, smaller, and lands a decent punch into his abdomen. However, the attack is futile, and just before he can stake his knife into Chan’s leg does the bigger man utilize his own weapon, ammunition positively bludgeoning every square inch of the assailant in baited seconds.

You understand why machine guns are strictly used for long range now.

Immediately, soft numbness floods your senses due to Han’s hands covering your eyes and ears, and you sit there for a while, blocked from the grotesque view of impalpable violence being enacted right before you.

You’d forgotten you were huddled together on the other side of the wall, too horrifically immersed.

It's strange. So much is strange.

These two men that you've grown effortlessly close to, grown effortlessly friends with, murder. Defensively in this case, yes, but they hadn’t brought those guns by chance, they brought them by intention.

Not just a twisted hobby like dissecting animals or something along those lines, but murder.

You’re sure they have their reasons, but it's difficult even imagining it. People who are extremely gentle when with you, responsible for such doings.

Talk about a duality.

The faint clatter of gun shells rattling against the marble flooring earns a subtle flinch, Jisung's hands cupping closer to your skin.

Then you smell it, what he'd warned you of no matter the cleanliness of the job.

A metallic, burning scent of blood, causing your nose to burn and your throat to grow increasingly dry.

Your stomach churns.

"You don't forget that smell" Chan had said before leaving the vehicle, and you knew what he was referring to now.

Putrid reek of rot and gunpowder beckon your lungs into fight or flight, but you remain still, ignoring the sharp sting of your wrist, bubbling blood dripping down your arm and onto the floor below, right atop your shoe.

Faint falling of bullet shells put an end to the fighting, then you’re blindly directed out the door without so much as a glance behind you. For your own good, you assume.

Hell, you’re not certain they’ll be much left of the bodies after Chan’s wrath.

As for right now, your top priority is your wrist. Swollen, skin tainted a grueling red shade.

Speeding home, you find yourself blurily recalling events, though all the little details simply swirl into strange shapes.

Shock is what it’s called. That state of monotonous wandering, occurrence too unfamiliar to take in, senses turning off. A coping mechanism of some sort.

Blearily you see the two men, talking, stepping out of the room, grabbing medical supplies. Like you’re in a time warp, dreaming. No pain, hurt.

On the other hand, your bodyguards were frantic, spewing curses and scouring the household for proper first aid materials.

Meanwhile, Chan was finally wrapping your wound in the bandages Jisung spotted, blinking madly in hopes his fogging headspace eased up.

Demons and wounds were not a good combination. Especially not human wounds.

Uncontrollable urges instructed him to tear you apart right this minute, do something, anything to quench that inexplicably demanding thirst.

Vulnerable, easy prey. His thoughts chanted, forcing him to step out of the room for a moment to where Jisung perched, close-pin fastened on his nose to block the mouth-watering smell.

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” He heaves, carding stressed fingers through matted hair.

“What, a little blood getting to a white-eyed demon?” His companion muses, hastily dodging Chan’s swinging fist. Immune to his threats.

It’s obvious to Jisung that’s only half of the story, but he’ll wait for his superior to admit it himself.

“It’s not just the blood,” He inhales deeply, gratefully accepting the water Han offered. “It’s her.”

Go figure.

To be honest, Jisung wasn’t good at pretending.

Well, in terms of lying he was a natural (a given, after all), but pretending he hadn’t caught onto his friend’s enormous attraction to you was technically impossible.

Quite surprising though, to think such an arrogant demon would’ve ended up like this.

Susceptible, willing. For a human.

Who would’ve thought.

.. .

It’s nothing short of a roller coaster regaining your stable consciousness. Chest wracking, world spinning. You’re situated in bed, injury carefully wrapped(though you can’t recall by who).

The doorknob rattles, and in walks Chan, except, you don’t feel happy, relieved.

Scared. You feel extremely scared.

“What- What are you?” Waver revealing your anxiousness, you curse the subtle tremble.

He smiles.

“Aren’t you a perceptive little one,” His voice dips lower, and as he edges closer, you find yourself pressing further into the pillow behind your head.

“I’m sure you’ve had your suspicions, so I’ll make it easy for you.” He lifts his curls, two perfectly placed horns residing there.

“We’re demons. He and I are different species, but both demons.”

Demons.

Instantaneously, a tidal wave or realization crashes salty water into your lungs, expertly piecing your observations together. Red eyes, horn-like scars.

How had you not caught on earlier?

Momentarily, you meet his eyes. Still brown, although you wonder how deep of a red they’d stain, glaze over stunning vermillion or dusky cinnamon tones.

“Species?”

He hums.

“Red-eyed are the best at persuasion, that’s Jisung. I’m a white-eyed demon.”

So neither crimson nor cinnamon, you decide. Perhaps pale, opal color.

“White-eyed demons are usually Satan’s lap dogs, but what lots of people don’t know,” You crane forward to hear his next words, and he leans in as well. “Is that we’re also the most desired species, the most lustful.”

Lustful.

The words don’t truly sink in, and by the time they do, it’s impossible to rip the mischievous look from his eyes.

"What’s that supposed to mean.." You grumble, avoid his darkening stare.

A subtle tap on your thigh has your attention immediately shfiting, your entire body instinctively jolting.

"You want me to show you?" He begins with a laugh, a low, husky laugh that has your stomach tying knots. Not the usual, squeaky laugh, but one that's different, very different. "But if you say yes, I’m sure no one else can satisfy you the way I can."

Your expression pinches with annoyance, a bit offed by his sudden cockiness.

Granted, he looks heaven-sent despite being a demon, and you doubt he'd be any different in bed, but c'mon now, you have a right to be suspicious.

"And how're you so sure of that?" Leaning back on your arms where he sits in front of you, you fixate on the way kinky locks perfectly line the crown of his head, one particularly messy strand tipping over to linger above chocolate pools for eyes.

"Sweetness, Jisung are I are carved out of sin, there's not a particle in our body not built to fuck."

God. Hearing "fuck" come out of his mouth shouldn't have been that attractive. Chan had always been well-mannered, well-spoken, so to hear him say something vulgar for the first time, nonetheless "fuck", effected you more than you'd like to admit.

Slowly, oh so slowly he crawls on the bed, kind tip of his head betraying sinful intent.

“You want this?” He whispers, and your arms immediately wrap around his neck, tugging him into your lips fervently, needily, with a short nod of approval between sighs and stifled groans.

Your wrist aches, but from how heated this kiss is becoming, that matter is the least of your problems.

He feels like fire, tastes like it, nectarine on your tongue.

You waste nimble time undressing, suppressing a high-pitched mewl the longer he sucks deep purple love bites into your neck and down your collarbones, likely to be bruised tomorrow.

He’s careful, learning your body, your sounds. Touch light as a feather, not enough.

He’s big, that’s a given. Head red and angry with thick beads of precum apparent, you can’t possibly think straight, his name the only sensible word falling off your swollen lips.

Chan Chan Chan.

Brows knitting as his fat head bumps your entrance, you murmur pleas, practically delusional on his pleasure, his love.

Most desired, you understand what he meant by that.

“Feel good? Yeah? That's a good girl."

You can feel your entire body keen at the praise, utterly blissful from how amazing he was making you feel.

The stretch of his fat cock has your common-sense threading dangerously thin, head falling back, fingernails raking his back. Delirious.

When he actually started moving? Yeah, you’re convinced you paid a visit to cloud nine, fucked-out brain recognizing only the squelch of your bodies connecting and the squeaky, absolutely desperate sounds he’s pulling from your throat.

Not to mention his voice, accent thickening tremendously the longer he ruined your drooling cunt.

His, his, his.

"Shit- you feel fuckin' divine," He kissed the sweaty skin of your calf hiked over his shoulder, ankle held by a strong hand while the other occupied your hip, squeezing and kneading with each heavy thrust.

Chan wasn't lying about being carved out of sin, fucking like an absolute animal to the point tears began welling in your eyes, overstimulated and euphoric beyond belief as your hands shakily reach upward.

Obediently, he lowers himself, letting you hold his face for some sense of security while feeling so vulnerable.

You pathetically search his eyes, head thrown back after one particular roll of his hips that earns a rumbling moan from the man.

Each time he bottoms out it feels like you're losing it, rubbing that gummy spot that makes your heels dig into his shoulders and your moans transform into high-pitched cries, shuddering.

"Channie- Oh fuck Channie- I can't It's too much-"

Practically gasping for air to ease the buzzing fuzziness blinding you, you cherish the equally mind-numbing kiss he soothes, pressure in your lower tummy building and building at a flying pace.

"Yes you can, bunny. 'Need to cum? C'mon, cum for me, 'atta girl." He tuts, slowing himself down with each squeeze of your cunt signaling your approaching release.

Torturous.

Nothing like this, never in all his life had he felt something like this. So delicate and fragile as you look up at him, glossy dolly eyes far too tempting.

At this point it was an obligation to stuff your pussy full.

Rolling your puffy nub in tight circles, your thighs twitch, gripping the pillow behind your head like a vice as the sharp knot in your stomach finally snaps and a near pornographic sound rips from your throat, back arching off the bed.

The sight of you has his eyes nearly rolling back, so ruined and angel-like. You're a white rose in a field of wilting grasses. Bloomed in his ill-fated fingertips.

His pants stifle, big hands holding the back of your thighs spread for him. His pace stutters, and with a gritted whine of your name he slams his hips, painting your aching cunt white.

The last thing he anticipated visiting the human realm was to find himself in this situation.

And whether he liked to admit it or not, if the Devil had your father wrapped around his finger, you had him tied up without a chance of escape.

So while you both scrambled to clean up your evidence and not fall over your own feet hearing Jisung clumsily drop a clattering frying pan in the kitchen, he thinks, if only for a second, he’d be okay with it.

Being yours, that is.

FIC TAGLIST. @y-ur--i @atinism @darknova2319 @producedbyhanjisung @knightoftime21 @leonswifesstuff

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see-arcane · 2 years

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OJ and JJ: Why Jean Jacket Let the Haywoods—Especially OJ—Get Away with More Than Anyone Else in “Nope”

I’ve seen Nope twice now. While everyone I saw it with enjoyed it, I heard a few cries of foul when it came to OJ and the others’ improbable good luck with all their near misses interacting with our favorite terrifying gulch-haunting UFO. I call foul back and say plot armor had nothing to do with it. Some luck, yeah, otherwise we’d have no protagonists. But that was hardly all.

Spoilers for Nope below

To be clear, I am absolutely not painting this as the same delusional ‘friendship’ Jupe assumed he had with Jean Jacket. Neither he, nor OJ, nor anyone else is a miraculously endowed animal/alien tamer with an automatic ~*~special bond~*~. It’s one of many points Nope goes out of its way to illustrate. You can only train (or disrespect) an animal so far before they lash out, especially predators, and especially island-sized UFOs with the munchies. But, insomuch as there is any ‘safe’ way to coexist in close proximity with something like Jean Jacket, OJ Haywood is shown to have pulled it off with flying colors. And he did so almost entirely unaware to begin with by dint of his character traits.

That and a combination of Jean Jacket’s own instincts are what likely put him and the people around him in the tiiiny pocket of special allowance JJ deigned to give them over the course of the movie.

Let’s roll back to the first scene with the Haywood Ranch and the death of Otis Sr. A death by falling nickel that happened six months before the present-day events of the film. Just before this, father and son were curious about the screaming in the clouds—a fresh snack of hikers about to be squelched—followed by the rain of inedible bits. We can assume this was Jean Jacket’s first time flying in the gulch, and he chose the Haywood Ranch as The Spot for Purging; just like the hills next to the ranch were chosen for his ‘nest’/hiding place/resting spot.

While Jupe was methodically feeding JJ fresh horses and imagining the big guy trusted him, Jean Jacket kept going home to his actual favorite spot right next to OJ and his horses—a man and his big juicy animals out training in broad daylight, day after day, without ever pestering them. No missing horses. No missing OJ. Despite JJ clearly having opportunity and a taste for both species by that point. Why?

The obvious answer is that OJ kept his head down. Literally. Eyes always on his work, under the shade of his hat bill, maybe glancing at the clouds now and then…but always too far away to agitate. For all that time, he was unconsciously respecting Jean Jacket’s rules. Plus, he was in JJ’s purging/nesting territory first; yes, Jean Jacket was calling dibs on the whole gulch, but if the locals already there aren’t bothering him, fine, sure, they can stay.

The place’s importance to Jean Jacket, OJ’s head-down habits, and the amount of time spent coexisting with each other sans trouble all combined to put OJ and the alien into as close to a neighborly setup as could ever be expected. Don’t fuck with me, I don’t fuck with you.

Then things start picking up. Too much activity, too many new skyward glances from OJ, too many hackles raised with the Star Lasso Experience. And yeah, JJ did almost vacuum OJ up—he infringed on their ‘arrangement’ and looked! The nerve! And after JJ let him get away with hiding under a roof the night he stared up at the dust devil that took the fake horse! How ungrateful!

…A move that, in hindsight, plays almost like a Strike 1 offense, paid back by slurping up the actual horse. OJ’s staring at the Star Lasso arena was likely Strike 2. After snapping at OJ and causing the accidental knockout against the ceiling, JJ flies off without him or Lucky.

Off JJ flies to the Haywood Ranch again, full of screaming people and detritus and huffy extraterrestrial chest-pounding. And what does JJ do? He drops a big bloody purge waterfall directly onto the Haywoods’ house—OJ’s territory-within-JJ’s territory—like the giant alien version of an animal hiking its leg and marking all over a lower-tier animal’s spot.

This is a warning. This is my place. I rule here.

Then, as if holding onto the statue for last (hell, that may have been the real Strike 1), he moves his big flying Roomba self over to OJ’s truck—which I’d bet JJ definitely recognizes after six months—and just hovers. Hovers. Hovers.

Making sure OJ is paying attention. Then he hacks the statue out like a bad loogie right into the windshield. Assuming it didn’t kill his ‘neighbor,’ it would be a fine lesson:

You are on thin ice. Do not cross me again.

Come morning, what do we find out? Not only is Jean Jacket smart enough to know the humans will react when he moves enough to let the electricity fizzle back on, he immediately moves back overhead to stare down at OJ. My guess? It was a test.

You know better, neighbor. What do you do when I am here? What very smart thing have you done in all our quiet time side by side?

And thank God, it does dawn on OJ in time. Do Not Look. No Eyes On JJ.

So he ducks his head. And, even though he caught a very obvious peripheral glimpse, Jean Jacket still lets that slide. Jean Jacket lets OJ, his sister, and Angel—probably his family/pack in JJ’s POV—scurry away in their silly rolling box. We can’t even say it was because Jean Jacket was still full; the big guy looks like he has whole miles of gut to chow down with.

No, he lets OJ and company off with a few warnings, because the arrangement renewed. And off he goes to settle in his cloud again.

Cut to the run.

I sincerely believe that if it had been any other person on the horse, any other person goading Jean Jacket along the run, they would not have lasted a minute. No, not even with their head down. We’ve seen by now just how fast JJ can move, how quick he can flip from zero to I-Will-Knock-You-Back-Like-a-Shrieking-Tic-Tac. And nobody can say they didn’t clench up when they, like OJ, realized Jean Jacket was hovering right behind him like the world’s most ominous frisbee. Ditto the part where JJ slurped up the TMZ jerk barely a yard away from him and Lucky.

Thiiis close to sucking him up. But no. The dust devil got Mr. TMZ with the precision of a straw.

Then we get to the run—OJ on horseback, JJ being JJ, going fast…but almost at his version of a canter. A brisk walking pace.

That much might be owed to the fact that, unlike all his other prey, the people/horses have gotten a good look at Jean Jacket, then turned to run. With OJ’s staring hoodie, he’s retreating while still looking at/challenging JJ. That’s new! That implies Jean Jacket’s neighbor has his hackles up even as he moves away!

So Jean Jacket gives a comparatively leisurely chase. Then, just when he gets fed up and goes for the vacuum maneuver—surprise! Flags everywhere! Jean Jacket freaks out as expected, twisting away rather than risk gulping up another bad meal. What the hell, OJ, why didn’t you warn JJ you were a statue this whole time?

And, finally, the climax.

OJ looks at Jean Jacket dead on, still sitting on the flag-strung Lucky. This is when Jean Jacket has completely unfolded into what looks like a full intimidation display. These tiny two-legged things have turned into a big flag-covered, barbed wired headache for Jean Jacket. Perhaps even a threat. It’s down to a fight for the territory in JJ’s perspective. Someone has to go. And OJ, the one he ‘knows’ best, the one that had respected and been respected by Jean Jacket most, like two sullen predators in the same cage mutually agreeing not to bother the other, is the one metaphorically baring his teeth first.

Even as he flexes all his freaky jellyfish anatomy, Jean Jacket hesitates.

Does he think this is OJ warning him away? Or is he really instigating a fight to the finish? …Is there a chance OJ could win?

Even when, finally, OJ does begin drawing him along, away from Em’s bike, we never see JJ strike out with his appendages or make another dust devil. He’ll match OJ’s staring contest, he’ll creep closer, but he does not lash out.

It’s only when Em revs up and takes off for Jupiter’s Claim that Jean Jacket gambles on pursuing what he (mis)takes for the less worrisome Haywood. Simply because she looked at him and fled? Because JJ wants another warning to spit up for OJ later? No way to know.

All we see is that OJ, by a mix of hair-thin good fortune and animal training experience, managed to live with, counter, and psych out Jean Jacket enough to earn the man-eating megafauna’s tolerance and enough respect that it edged near worry.

tl;dr: No, OJ was not a magical horse/alien whisperer. But he did gain enough of Jean Jacket’s esteem to give him the best odds of survival, cohabitation and manipulation, simply by being himself, being respectful of the ‘rules’ once he knew them, and being cool as hell while everyone else fell apart or got slurped.

#hope you like text walls #anyway I love it when directors don't spoon-feed the details but leave them there for you to pick up yourself #OJ Haywood #Jean Jacket #Nope 2022 #Nope #horror #jordan peele #spoilers

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unadulteratedsoulsweets · 9 months

Text

A DC X DP #18

You want a taste of my brain? Okay, it's yours anyway.

Imagine dis…

This time I get inspiration from an A03 fic, and some of its parts just stuck with me and now I’m writing about it, if some of you want to read it go for it. If you are asking for the name don’t ask, I am not going to sell my soul to the devil to find it in my ever-growing history. If you do manage to find it, kudos to them.

TELL ME I AM GETTING DESPERATE OVER HERE

Credits to them as well. Also, as you’ve noticed I decided to post less, now it is due to a good old lack of inspiration. So, don’t go getting your hopes up on this one.

…

Ever since Danny Phantom had become the Ghost King he repeatedly entered the reincarnation cycle willingly to retain his morals when he was human. He still retained his ability to stay in the middle of life and death. But when he as the High King of the Infinite Realms gained immortality he found himself losing his ideals and values, he began forgetting. With Clockwork’s insistence, every few hundred years he would become human to experience a lifetime. Sometimes he would go another round in the same dimension, but only when he needed to finish an unfinished business.

Sometimes he is lucky sometimes he is not.

Sometimes he would be born into a loving family with either as the only child or him having siblings. He has experienced the life of royalty as the heir prince. He experienced the life of a knight who was known for his skills with the sword. He was born into a normal family which made him second guesses his every choice due to his lack of normality in his life. He was also born into some wild dimensions that of which could look like it came from a book. From wizards and sci-fi worlds, he never had the time to sit and be an extra.

But there were also times he was born far too unlucky.

He was born in a salve ridden society, a parent who were core members of a rebellion so when his current parents died, he was expected to be like his parents. Born in a society where the rich trample the poor and he was forced into early child labor as expected in society to work at a very young age. Born where he and the people around him had never seen peace in a war-consumed country, a war that separated his family from each other not knowing whether one is alive or not, leaving only him and his siblings to stay alive. Being abandoned by a pair of druggies for his parents left alone inside a dumpster and died in the middle of the night, looking through the dimension he saw that some homeless people found his body and reported it to the authorities leaving his parents in jail while some prisoners seem to leave them at the near bottom of the hierarchy in prison.

…

It seems this time he was born in an assassin cult this time he wasn’t alone. A twin, an older sibling that was with him in the womb and both came into the world together. The moment he laid his eyes on his grandfather he can already tell that he is a major fruit loop from the way he both look at both of them.

His name is too formal for his liking, Dylan Al Ghul, he already convinced Damian to call him Danny when it was just the two of them. Danny tries to downplay his abilities both ghost and human seeing that his grandfather is too power-hungry to the point of misusing ectoplasm that is corrupted but still ectoplasm to achieve some sort of immortality, he tried to give Damian a childhood in the form of showing him the stars whenever he could sneak him outside. He saw the absolute worship and awe Damian would give to their mother and their grandfather whenever they visit or supervised their training, Danny didn’t care for their approval nor their presence but seeing his brother seem to at awe and do anything to please the two made his heart shatter, his older brother never needed to prove anyone something.

Danny has repeatedly shown his disdain for the two most powerful people in the organization yet it is a miracle he still lives. It is because he is a spare, a spare yes not the heir but a useful spare one, twins one who specialized in stealth and espionage a twin who is a perfect copy of Damian aside from his eyes mirroring their supposed father. Both Talia and Ra seem to make it their life mission to drill his only purpose in his head, it may have never worked due to his adult mind but he pretended it would be as to not raise any suspicion.

…

The day Deathstroke attacked not only he dared to kill the demon head but also choose to kill the chosen heir, by removing an eye and some of his organs as a form of slow torture but also killing him as he made the organs unable to go back to their owner’s body.

Danny couldn’t look away from his bloodied brother, Talia slowly approached him from behind and put her hands on his shoulder, and whispered some honeyed words on how his role as the spare will be fulfilled at a much earlier date and promptly injected with a sleeping drug.

…

Danny was already awake when he noticed the cold metal bed behind him the lack of clothes as well the number of doctors seemingly in a rush to prepare for a last-minute surgery. He saw the unconscious form of Damian on the other side and suddenly heard the loud ticking noise of a grandfather’s clock.

It seems that it was meant to be, Danny thought as an image of Clockwork flashed in his mind.

He fell back asleep knowing that Damian lost an eye, kidney, a lung, some ribs as well an ungodly amount of blood, possibly more. Danny knew that this vessel of his wouldn’t survive at the sheer need and he already felt that he would not leave the room alive. So, he took one last peek at the sleeping Damian and promptly closed his eyes, the moment he opened his eyes once again he was back in his chambers in the Infinite Realms clutching his left eye in his face whilst looking at the mirror as he felt his eye be the first one to be removed.

It seems this time he died months before he and his brother celebrated their 10th birthday.

…

Damian woke up with a pounding headache being the assassin he is he immediately looked around seeing that his last memory is being tortured by Deathstroke.

He immediately took notice of his loose clothing and tried to walk towards the door but his knees immediately gave out. As he tries to gain his bearings, he noticed a scar right in the middle of his chest, it couldn’t be from the time when he was captured by Deathstroke as he noticed that this scar is too clean, too sterilized as if someone had just come out of a surgery type of scar. As he tries to loosen his shirt to take a better look at his scar when he noticed a mirror facing his way and noticed his eyes, instead of his usual pair of emerald eyes he was greeted with an emerald eye of his own and his brother’s icy blue eye in his left eye.

Damian remembered that Deathstroke took out his eye, as according to him it reminded him of the Demon head, and decided to promptly pull it out with his bare hands.

Dread began to fill his very being and tried to go and look for his brother but deep down he already knew what happened to him after all, he is the heir while his brother his beloved younger brother is just a spare.

…

When Damian had met his father’s wards most of them commented on his heterochromia eyes and promptly greeted back with his sword in their faces.

The rest grumbled that Damian couldn’t take a tease or two, but immediately chased the demon brat as he chases each and one of them with the intent to kill.

Damian couldn’t tell them; another son was hidden from Bruce. Another son he had failed, another son who died before they could even meet him.

From the first few interactions he had with his father when he first met him, he knew where his brother’s bleeding heart came from.

Sometimes he could still see him, Dyl- no Danny, every time he looks in the mirror. The constant reminder that his brother was seen by the league as nothing but a spare. Whatever love he had for his mother disappeared the moment he laid his sight at his brother’s eye embedded in his supposed empty eye socket.

The constant reminder that shows every time he looks at the mirror and the scar in the middle of his chest, Danny’s organs that were used on him to ensure his survival while Danny was left behind.

…

He was 14 years old when he went wide-eyed at the stranger across him and his brothers in a heavily populated area.

A teen looks exactly like him with a medical eyepatch on his left eye as he sits in a wheelchair chatting idly with an older man.

Damian heavily thought of a clone, did Talia, not mother never mother, make another clone after him after weeks of silence?

Damian still remembered the first time he encountered a clone with blue eyes, his running theory is that due to his new organs have bonded with him thus creating a batch of clones with blue eyes. Timothy had spoken up that since babies have a 50/50 chance of inheriting the colored eyes of either parent made a new branch of clones.

Damian was already planning on disposing of the supposed clone when the said clone suddenly laughed exposing his neck that have a feign white line across indicating a scar. But that scar made Damian double guess, all clones he encountered are scarred free thus leaving him to have no trouble disposing of each and one of them but the existence of the scar he barely caught is something both brothers swore secrecy to it.

The laugh oh god, his laugh, only his brother laughs like that, Damian thought mournfully.

As he tries to look the other way, he suddenly faced the same doctor who was the assistant doctor that foresees his surgery years ago. He may have distanced himself from the League after he had fulfilled his debt but it was no mistaking that it was the same doctor that operated him that time.

A chemist they said, an insufficient man who is more cowardly than any other man yet his talent in poisons made him quite a gem in the League.

A clone who had broke out of their collective mind control? Possible, but why this clone? What made this look alike so special that this man dared to leave the League?

…

Robin began to follow the two, the other bats thought that he had a new case on his lap that requires recon. They didn’t question Robin’s new behavior as they have seen him do the same actions when he landed himself a case or when he was following a lead. Yet they couldn’t shake the feeling that something is not right, whether it is the fact that Robin refused any assistance or just the fact they have no idea what kind of case Robin is working on.

They should have listened to their guts then maybe they wouldn’t be surprised at the bat screen, showing a maternal and paternal match to a picture of a blue-eyed black-haired kid with a medical eyepatch on his left eye looking like Damian in a good day.

…

Danny was doing some paperwork when a flying thought passed by him about his last reincarnation. All memories from his adventures when he got reincarnated are usually put behind the back of his hand yet worries about the well-being of his brother made him distracted, and kept close a special one-way mirror to monitor his baby brother.

Danny felt nostalgic at the family drama and chaos that he can’t help but cackle at each interaction Damian has with their father’s adopted children and wards. He found himself majorly of his time watching for hours and hours, he can’t help but wish he was there. As if he was summoned Clockwork appeared in front of him and told him to go back, which confuses Danny since it was Clockwork who implemented that he cannot go back to the same dimension/ world if his body is too far gone to be revived by him, yet Clockwork told him to give someone named Alfred his regards and vanished. Looking bewildered at his mentor/ grandfather he tried to sense his vessel with little to no hope seeing that the League has his body, but surprises himself when he felt his own body submerged in a portion of the Lazarus pit.

…

Going back, he was greeted by an assistant doctor that used to be in the League due to his ancestor’s debt. He explained that he cannot in good conscience do what he was instructed to after the operation, stole his body, and submerged it in an undiscovered pit due to its small size, enough to dump a child not enough for a grown adult.

After an initial check-up, both he and the doctor discovered that the mini Lazarus pit regenerated all of his organs except his eye seeing that it was his entire body submerged excluding his head. The assistant doc theorized that those organs of his may be weaker since they were generated from nothing, Danny in all his eldritch glory as well as being the most powerful being across the Infinite Realms played his part perfectly of a now disabled child.

After all who would accuse this disabled child putting the daughter of the Demon Head in an endless nightmare by his command to Fright Knight? Who would accuse that innocent blue eye of his that he had killed any assassin in their tail ever since he and his now temporary guardian began exploring the world? Who would accuse an adorable child that he was the one who had put the Joker in a definite MIA? Who would accuse this child who smiles like the sun despite his setbacks be the one who tortured Deathstroke to the brink of insanity? Danny is pretty sure his temporary guardian knew of his secret endeavors but remained quiet due to his habit when he was in the League or just to prevent any grayer hairs from growing in.

…

Now if only his brother stopped moping around the building across their apartment complex and just come inside, he made his infamous fudge to share with his brother. His brother didn’t have to drag the rest of the bat brigade in watching him across the building, he even made extra fudge, if only they could just go through the front door instead of rescuing him first in every rogue attack and pretend, they don’t him. Well, if they are playing a game then count him in to win. But for some reason all of them made a face of being constipated whenever they talk to him, Danny is so sure he used clean ingredients to make his fudge…

God dammit just enter the front door like a normal person, better yet tell Batman to stop looking at him as if he died! Those windows are not paying to fix themselves each time one of them decided to stop dropping and roll every other night!

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

#dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp #ghost king danny #batfam #danny fenton #op danny #damian wayne

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thetreefairy · 7 months

Note

Could you do another platonic yandere gojo where the reader refuses to call him papa or dad or sensei or anything after he kidnaps them so the reader just keeps calling him gojo? How would he react ?

Post mentioned : A purge with little chances

Warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, silent treatment, purge au, kinda angst? swearing, restraining, gojo hurts reader on purpose, not really explicit so-

Gn student reader, reader does have curly coded hair

Kofi - main masterlist

Dad loves you

Gojo had it all planned out, he would have an adorable child and Megumi would keep them company when he couldn't.

And after Reader's adaption period the other students would be able to visit them too, maybe even taking them out on trips with his other students.

But Reader wasn't doing what he planned,

to be fair, they were stuck on their bed with broken legs and needed to ask him for help on the most basic things. Which, in his mind, was holding back the adaption period.

Reader was quiet and loved being alone, something he found rather adorable.

But Reader still hasn't called him any variation of dad, and even stopped calling them sensei!

So today he got Megumi to come over and try to find out why Reader isn't calling him by his proper title as their yandere caretaker.

"Reader," Megumi started. "Wanna talk?"

Reader looked Megumi, giving him a side eye and ignoring him as well. Reader didn't have the energy to deal with them, they just couldn't.

This caused Gojo to walk over to their bed and pressing on their leg, causing Reader to gasp out in pain. "You will talk to Megumi," He hissed. "I'll go away for an hour, I expect Megumi to tell me how it went."

This caused Reader to glare at him, their eyes full with tears. "How about we do your hair, huh?" Megumi asked. "Teacher has no idea how to take care of it."

This caused Gojo to stick his tongue out as he left and shouted: "Be good!"

And that's how you were now being pampered by your old best friend while he was trying to convince you to at least call Gojo father. You just cried.

"I don't want to acknowledge him as my dad." Reader mumbled. "Teacher has been kind to you, so why don 't you want to?" Megumi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you stupid?" Reader hissed. "He took away my freedom, my choices, this bitch even fucked up my hair while i finally had some type of hair care!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "You are so petty, you know that this is how the purge goes."

Reader gave him the middle finger, knowing full well he's saying that to pain Gojo in a good light.

And speaking of the devil

"Awhh, Megumi you got Reader's hair to look pretty!" Gojo greeted the two. "You should teach me sometime, or Reader can!"

Reader was still ignoring him, much to his annoyance, and from the look on Megumi's face. It wasn't gonna change soon, so perhaps he needed some drastic manners, maybe he should take away all their freedoms.

"Megumi, thank you for babysitting, I'll take it over." Megumi knew that look on Gojo's face. "Stay calm, they are simply acting out of frustation." Megumi whispered in Gojo's ear as he left.

But he didn't care anymore, he carried Reader to their bed, while their legs were healing, perhaps they shouldn't be. Maybe he should restrain Reader to the point they are nothing but a hopeless baby.

Maybe then they would call him dad or pa.

While reader was ignoring them, he decided to apply pressure to their legs rather severe. "Gojo- Stop!" Reader shouted, breaking their silence while holding back sobs. "Shh." He whispered, Reader was sure their legs broke again.

"Dad loves you, he's just doing this for your safety." He whispered in Reader's ear. "Dad will protect you."

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cyberpxnk · 1 year

Text

jealous | song mingi (2/2)

♡ part one

(can be read standalone.)

♡ pairing: mingi x fem! reader (afab) ♡ chapters: 2 out of 2 ♡ word count: 4.3k ♡ rating: mature/18+ (minors dni) ♡ genre: pwp, smut, established relationship

♡ synopsis: Nothing could have prepared you for the ray of pink that was Song Mingi when you walked through the door at that moment.

♡ warnings/tags: idol! mingi, pink! mingi, brief mentions of ateez, san + woo being lil shits, shameless smut, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, cock warming, slight somnophilia, pussy eating/cunnilingus, biting, hair pulling, minor overstim, size kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, name calling, breeding kink if u squint, creampie

♡ author’s note:

kinda proof read but again, not rly... hehe :3

howdy again, friends! here is the conclusion to jealous. i hope you all enjoy as much as the first chapter! :3 i had a lot of fun writing this one. seeing all the support has really been encouraging!!

When you step into the stylist's corner that evening, you aren't sure what to expect after overhearing the boy's discussions the previous night. Amidst themselves they chatted animatedly about the possibility of different colored hair. Their rush of words only left you with an undying curiosity as to what you would see today in the hair salon. Unfortunately, none of them seemed too keen on sharing with you, even after your insistent probing.

The time they spent with neutral tones was surprisingly short and they were all too soon being ushered back to the stylists for their new looks. If you had a say, you would have easily protested the idea — given how much you loved Mingi with natural looking hair… but alas.

And sure, most of them had practically gone through the entire rainbow at that point but nothing could have prepared you for the ray of pink that was Song Mingi when you walked through the door at that moment.

Eyes wide with surprise and bewilderment, you're bouncing over to the tall man, practically gushing and cooing as you take in his new appearance. His hair is shorter now, shorter than you've ever seen. The wisps that previously framed his handsome and sharp features are nothing but choppy and sporadic.

"Wow," is all that you can utter as your fingers card through his freshly dyed locks. A low hum of approval comes from him. You stand behind him, staring at him through the mirror he sits before. In the reflection, he's meeting your bright eyes as he beams with a newfound radiance, noting how smitten you seemed.

"Do you like it, babe?" Mingi preens, leaning into your gentle affections as you're stroking his scalp lovingly.

"You look... Uh. Wow." A deep laugh rumbles from his large frame upon hearing your lack of words.

"I look hot, huh?" Pursing your lips, you choose not to reply as you catch the teasing hint behind his words. His statement shakes you from your charmed stupor, as if you're just now remembering how your lovable boyfriend is also oh so insufferable.

"What about meeee~? Do I look good?" You ignore San's whine in the background.

Grasping a fistful of Mingi's hair, you give a playful tug and he lets out a pained noise of complaint.

"Ow! Sorry, sorry… You know I’m just joking."

"You're so annoying, Min." Smoothing out his rosy tufts, you pat his head once and step away to observe some of the others as they're scattered about the salon.

Only a few of the members are in today, most of them having opted to keep their more natural styles. Upon further inspection, you note that only Mingi, Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung are present.

The captain's head is tipping back and forth as he's snoozing peacefully within his chair. You can see they're still lifting his hair, him having fallen asleep as the light color processes. You smile. It would definitely look good once finished.

Not wanting to disturb his beauty sleep, you sneak around him and weave your way toward San and Wooyoung.

Akin to the devil himself San has his teeth bared in the widest grin, dimple showing as he tilts his head toward you, beckoning for you to pet him just as you did with Mingi.

"San, why are even you here? They didn't do anything to your hair."

"It's just a little styling and trimming. See!" The man kicks off the ground and swivels in his chair, spinning a bit to show himself off from all angles. You can't really tell any difference. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him and snicker alongside Wooyoung as you both ignore his antics.

"It looks good, right? I'm so handsome, right?" San knits his eyebrows together and juts out his lips, offering you his signature pouty face.

"Right, right?"

"Yes, yes. You're so handsome, Sannie. So handsome with your silly little trim." Though the sarcasm of your statements are blatantly obvious, he has never seemed more pleased. So pleased in fact, that he grasps your hand and places it atop his head before he begins nuzzling into your palm. He really did have some cat like tendencies.

You let out an exasperated sigh and open your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by your lover.

"Dude! Get your own girlfriend!" Having witnessed the entire charade from his corner, Mingi is on his feet now and you swear you can see steam coming from his ears. You know San's jokes are mostly for shits and giggles, but you do feel a little bad seeing your boyfriend so riled up.

It was only a few weeks ago you had your asses chewed out by management after what you and San planned. Not to mention Hongjoong was on his last nerve and would definitely limit your visitations if you pulled another stunt like that.

Despite knowing the repercussions, San chooses to ignore the rapper as he grins, hand cupped over his mouth while he's leaning over to his partner in crime, whispering to the other.

"Watch him wake up Captain and get into deep shit again." They both snicker.

"Aw, is the big pink princess jealous?" Shooting a look of warning to the pair, you rush over to Mingi.

"San, you directly contributed to our ‘deep shit,’ so I don't wanna hear it!" Stepping closer to the fuming giant, you run your hands along his arms, trying to soothe his anger. His own limbs immediately wind around your waist, pulling you against his solid chest protectively.

"He's just messing with you again, baby."

"I know," he says through grit teeth.

"I'll make it up to you tonight," you murmur into his ear softly, giving his lobe a gentle nip. Upon hearing your words, his eyes darkened considerably. He squeezes you once.

Thankfully, this seems to pacify his temper as he settles down, allowing you to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"You better." Without another word, the man returns to his seat. The tension visibly falls from his shoulders, a pleased smile stretching across his features at the thought of your promise for later.

Unfortunately, you're left to deal with San's taunting again once Mingi comfortably slouches into his chair, ignoring everyone as he begins to play around with his phone.

"I'll make it up to you later," San parrots in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"You better." Wooyoung follows his mimicry and the pair burst into an obnoxious fit of giggles. Woo's laughter raises an octave higher as they're both slapping each other around and squirming hilariously in their chairs, making kissy faces.

Two grown ass men. You shake your head and sigh.

The commotion causes Hongjoong to stir. The smaller man rouses from his sleep, rubbing his eyes tiredly as his bleary glare lands on the troublesome duo.

"You two are so loud. You think I would be used to it by now."

Everyone falls silent when they finally realize their captain has awoken. His sleepy gaze sweeps over the room, eyebrows cocking up in surprise when he notes that Mingi seems to be the most behaved of the bunch. That was not typical, but he wouldn't dwell on it. There's a curt nod in your direction, as if he’s giving you kudos for trying to keep the boys in line.

"Behave, kids." Hongjoong leaves them a single warning, too tired to chastise them as his droopy eyes fall shut, the drowsiness overtaking him once more.

The bickering has died down now and everyone is left to their own muses, the previous playful encounters momentarily forgotten as a comfortable silence overtakes the room.

Another half hour passes by in a breeze and it's not long before you're all filing back into a company van to return home. Shuffling between each member, you're quick to buckle into your seat beside Mingi and no sooner is the vehicle veering out of the driveway toward the direction of the dorms.

As the van takes off the street lights fade in passing, blurring beneath the night sky. The sight has your eyelids growing heavy, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted from your day's events. You don't seem to realize how tired you are until your cheek falls on your lover's broad shoulder.

Blinking at the sudden weight on him, Mingi turns slightly to look at you before a fond smile overtakes his face once he sees you dozing off. A warmth spreads within his chest as he takes in your delicate features, cooing lovingly before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Sleep tight, baby."

The first time you awake that night you don't register the feeling of his lips trailing along your shoulder. Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with mostly darkness, only a sliver of the moonlight peeking from the window. You can feel the springs of a mattress beneath you and the familiarity of Mingi's lean body pressed to your back. Like most nights, he holds you from behind, effectively caging you in his arms.

Though you don't recall the man carrying you from the car to the dorm, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. This wasn't the first occasion where you had knocked out on the ride home. Mingi was all too used to hauling your ass back to his room and readying you for bed — which mostly just consisted of him stripping you to your undergarments and tucking you in.

With your current state of undress, the man beside you feels particularly restless. He fidgets once, then twice. You squeeze his arm gently and that's all it takes for his curious hands to begin roaming upon your bare skin, ghosting along your hips and stomach before he's cupping one of your breasts to fondle between his palm, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

A quiet and tired whine falls from your lips and you're soon shifting against the bed, your panty clad ass brushing against him. Feeling your movements he involuntarily bucks against you and even through the fabric of delicates separating you, you feel the weight of his half hard cock against your backside.

His lips find purchase on your neck once more, eager to paint a pattern of his love bites on the skin. There are fading marks from days prior and he's readily retracing over the hickeys with teeth and tongue. The thrill of showing others his claim was simply his favorite.

Despite the desire that throbs between your thighs, you find yourself too drowsy to reciprocate, only just barely grinding yourself against him as he continues to grope at your body and rut against you.

"Fuck," he curses between wet kisses along your nape.

There is an air of impatience in his actions and he's hurriedly fumbling around with his boxers, freeing his erection from its confines. It slaps up against one of your cheeks and you can feel his precum leaking through your underwear.

Mingi is unable to help himself as he pulls your panties to one side, lining himself along your slit before he's slowly sheathing his thick cock past your walls, already wet and coated with your arousal. Even in your dazed state, you feel a surprised moan bubbling from your throat as you begin to clutch onto the bed sheets when your cunt stretches deliciously around him to accommodate his size.

Consumed by the feeling of your walls clenching around him, a pleased growl spills from your lover's lips. The grip he has on your waist returns and soon he's bottoming out within you, pelvic bone flush to your ass as he's relishing the heat that hugs his length so tightly.

Gods, your pussy felt like the heavens to him. Mingi knew he could come then and there if he lacked any self control. The position which you both lay presents him with a different angle to fuck you, dragging against your cunt in a way that has his length throbbing within you. His eyes nearly roll back at the feeling.

Though he's enraptured in a state of pleasure, he doesn't budge against you, only breathing heavily against your neck as his fingers stroke circles into your hips. Normally, there is an encouraging noise or movement from you after you adjust to his size, but the silence that follows has his concerns raising slightly.

"Babe?"

It's only several seconds later that Mingi hears the sound of your light snoring. Unbelievable... With you having fallen back to sleep he resigns in defeat and hugs you closer to him, closing his eyes as he tries to follow suit, his hard cock still stuffed within you.

The second time you wake up, it's still dark within the room but the beginnings of sun rising glimmer past the window curtains. Huh? You find your body is feeling unusually hot and you're panting softly, eyes heavily lidded.

Drowsiness still overpowers you as you’re blindly reaching around for Mingi. His body has since disappeared from your side and only now do you register the feeling of his weight against your legs.

A scratchy moan rips from your throat when you glance down. You're met with the sight of pink hair disappearing between your thighs and it sends a tremor of arousal through you, shaking you awake. The two of you had discussed this scenario many times prior, but you were beyond thrilled to finally have it happen.

“M-Mingi?” Your throat is hoarse and dry, though you don't know if it's from having just woken up or from seeing the sinful sight of your lover languidly lapping at your pussy. You’re unsure of how long he's been awake, but the mess that has accumulated beneath you was evidence enough — fluids having trailed down from your heat, seeping into the bedsheets.

The man hums in acknowledgement, his tongue delving past your dripping folds as he hungrily begins to eat you out. Now that you were awake, he wouldn’t hold back. His mouth moves with fervor, tongue swiping along your cunt as he greedily drinks in your juices.

“You said you would make it up to me.” Between kissing your clit and dragging the flat of his tongue against your wetness, he rumbles deeply against you. He just barely lifts his head and meets your stare with a heated look, pupils blown wide, the desire and want evidently swirling within his lustful eyes.

When he nudges his nose against your clit, your legs tremble, closing slightly as they tighten around his head, earning a pleased and muffled noise from him. Your hand finds its way down to his head as you begin to buck into his face, fingers gripping at the rosy locks.

His own hands palm at the globes of your ass, cupping each cheek fully as he lifts your pussy closer to his face. Mingi is ravenous as he eats you out. His mouth traces over every inch of your cunt, tongue sloppily laving against your folds, his actions akin to a starved man.

At this point, you're wide awake and squirming with pleasure. With his grip holding you up, your back arches off the mattress and no sooner you’re driving your hips into his face, shamelessly bucking against his mouth. He’s diving into you with reckless abandon and it's only when you feel his lips latching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves that you're turning your head to muffle your cries into the pillow under you.

Knowing how vocal you were, you had to keep quiet as the boys could wake at any moment. You couldn't risk getting in trouble again. Even so, your face is pressed to the pillow and you're biting the fabric of the pillow case as you're fisting Mingi’s hair. You can barely contain the lewd noises that Mingi elicits from you.

The muffled sounds that come from you grow increasingly louder when you feel him circling your clit with his tongue. The way he alternates between licking and sucking you has you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

When your thighs finally begin to shake in his grasp, he knows you're close. Mingi’s mouth doesn't leave your clit even as you're grinding harder into his face. Swiftly one of his hands dips between your legs, two fingers fucking into you as he drives you to your orgasm. The combined stimulus pushes you over the edge and you’re cumming hard on his face.

You sob into the pillow, writhing wildly as your fluids spill from your pussy onto his face. His mouth finally leaves your swollen clit as he savors the taste of your release, groaning into your cunt while he begins to tongue fuck you once more. The taste of your essence is sweet, irresistible; and only for him to have.

When Mingi has finally had enough, you're already nearing your second orgasm. You’re breathing hard and trying to recover as the waves of pleasure roll through your body. The man lifts his head from your legs and you swallow thickly at the sight of him.

There is still a carnal hunger that glitters beneath his stare. Your eyes trace the angles of his face, following down the curve of his nose until they land on his mouth, watching as his tongue darts out to lick some remnants of your juices from his lips. Even in the dark, you can see the way your own release glistens on his cheeks and chin.

The look he gives you has a wave of arousal pooling in your belly, burning so hot that you're already locking your legs around his torso. Mingi roughly cleans his face with one arm and wipes it onto his bedsheets.

You’re about to protest, but the complaint dies in your throat as he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses up your body. He starts below your navel and ghosts past your ribs next. Similarly, his large hands stroke up to your legs as he holds them in place.

As he moves up your body, your pussy drags along the ripples of his muscles, leaving a line of your wetness down his abs. He begins grazing past your nipples and he teases along the slopes of your breasts before he reaches your lips. His mouth connects to yours, all too eager to taste you. Now that your bodies are level to each other, your thighs naturally rest around his waist.

From this position you can feel the weight of his thick cock laying heavily against your messy cunt, his length coated with your slick arousal. Grinding against each other, the friction between your loins has you both gasping out between kisses. His tongue finds yours all too easily, labored breaths against each other’s mouths.

When he parts from you, there is a string of saliva that stretches between you. After your first orgasm, you already looked so fucked out laying beneath him. Your breasts are heaving with each gasp of pleasure and your hips wiggle against his impatiently. He groans at the sight, cock twitching.

“Think you can take more, doll?”

“Please, Mingi…” Under his gaze, you're trembling with want and need. Mingi loves when he hears your pathetic whines laden with desire, especially with the way your voice goes up a pitch when you're desperate to have him filling you.

“Baby girl wants to be stuffed with my big dick, yeah?” A taunting smirk overtakes his features.

“Mingi, need you inside me. Please…” You squirm beneath him, pressing yourself closer to his body, flush to the shaft of his aching erection.

“Love how you beg for me every night. You're such a slut for me, with the way your tight little cunt molds so well around my cock.”

The deep treble of his voice has you moaning softly, your body heating up from the dirty words that escape him. He feels the way you gush more fluids onto his length, growing more wet as he praises you.

“Be a good girl and take my big cock, mmm?”

As the last word falls from his lips, he’s sinking himself into your dripping hole. Mingi is slow and calculated, enjoying the drag along your folds as you begin to stretch around his thickness. From this angle he sees the way your cunt swallows him, his cock buried inside you.

You both moan breathily as he fills you to the hilt, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. The grip of your thighs tightens around his waist as you're trying to drive him deeper within you.

“God, such a good girl. You always take me so well, baby.”

“M-Mingi,” you mewl back at him, feeling entirely full from his large size splitting you apart. He doesn’t need to adjust this time, knowing your second orgasm still looms closely. You're high on the pleasure and you're already grinding into him.

“See how big I am inside you?” The sight beneath him is almost too much. Within you his dick is twitching and throbbing as your walls envelope him. He hovers above you just slightly, creating space between your bodies to give you a view of what nearly sends him into a frenzy.

Obediently your eyes flit down to follow his stare and you can see the outline of his big cock against your lower belly. Your cunt clenches at the sight and he involuntarily thrusts a single time.

“So big… feel so full of your cock,” you gasp at him, eyes fluttering with pleasure as you're reveling in the feeling of his size. He pulls his hips back, slowly beginning to pump himself within you as you’re both watching the outline of his girth moving back and forth.

“Fuuuck.” Mingi throws his head back, cursing lowly as he begins to pick up his pace.

Your arms wind around his neck and you’re clutching onto him as you bury your face into his shoulder. The sight of him within you is forgotten once you're both beginning to chase your climax.

The grip Mingi has on your ass is bruising as he starts to pound himself within your pussy. His tempo has picked up speed as the pleasure continues to build. The sound of his cock squelching against your dripping folds is loud as is the sound of his balls slapping against your skin.

Each thrust has his pelvis dragging against your already sensitive clit. You're trying to meet his movements best you can, but you're so far gone with pleasure that you simply hang off him as he plows into your aching cunt.

“S-So… good,” you blubber out as you begin to drool on his shoulder.

His palms are suddenly hooking under your knees as he pushes your legs back, effectively folding you into yourself as he begins to fuck himself into you harder. Your hands fall from him at this new position and you're desperately fisting the bedsheets when he begins to slam himself back into you.

The new angle has his cock hitting your g spot, each plunge on his length sending you closer and closer into euphoria. You begin chanting his name, each syllable growing louder in volume until he has to silence you with his mouth.

You're both moaning through the lip lock, tongues entangled in a passionate dance as he rocks himself into you. You know he's close with the way his grip is beginning to slack around your legs. Even then, his pace doesn't let up as he begins to snap his hips harder against you. In between kisses, you begin to coax him closer to his release.

“Need your cum… please, Mingi!” The guttural moan that escapes him resonates through your core, fluids gushing around his cock as he starts fucking you faster.

“Fuck, baby girl… You want me to fill you up? Does my needy slut want to be stuffed full of cum?”

He’s merciless with his movements as he sets an unrelenting pace, desperate to chase his orgasm. The harder he ruts into you, the more your pussy clenches around him.

“Yes, Mingi. Please!”

Hearing your admission, you can feel the way his moves are no longer calculated — a sloppy and erratic rhythm overtaking his movements. Still, each push of his throbbing length slamming against your g spot has your entire body alight with fire.

The pressure is building within you, ready to snap at any moment. Only seconds later you're unraveling beneath him, your second orgasm flooding you as you thrash and moan whilst cumming against his cock, walls squeezing around him impossibly tight. Your juices flood around him, the sounds of your wetness growing louder as he bucks harder.

The feeling of your cunt gripping and convulsing around him sends him into a craze and he fucks into you harder and harder until he's pumping you full his release. Even as he's painting your walls full of his cum, he cannot help himself but to roll his hips a bit longer, riding out his peak as he pushes his seeds deeper within your cunt. The cum begins to spill over, drooling out from your pussy as he finally stills his movements.

After several seconds, he drops your legs and collapses on top of you. You grunt at his weight but bring a hand up to gently stroke his hair. Both of you pant heavily as you try to recover from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm, exhaustion sweeping over you. His hands are carefully kneading around your hips while his head rests between your breasts, nuzzling into them affectionately.

“Love you, babe. Thanks for making it up to me.”

You kiss the top of his head.

“Yeah, yeah.. Love you too. Even if you did interrupt my sleep…”

You both knew the bed was in a state of disarray but you were both too tired to care at the moment, beginning to fall asleep in a pool of your mixed juices.

It’s not even ten minutes later that you hear a loud series of knocks on the door, causing you both to jolt awake.

"Morning, you sex fiends! Breakfast is ready!” San calls out from behind the door, an obvious hint of mischief in his tone.

Oh god, you were definitely too loud and you know you would never hear the end of it from him.

“Fuck off! We're sleeping in!” Mingi yells back, though his words don’t match the cheeky grin he sports.

You roll your eyes and gently nudge him off of you.

“Can we at least change the bed sheets first?”

“Sure thing, babe.” Fin~

#cyberpxnkwrites #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez scenarios #mingi scenarios #mingi smut #mingi x reader #song mingi x reader #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader

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