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cosmicmunsonwrites · 11 months

Text

for the first time

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!virgin!reader

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, pet names, jj being a softy, porn without plot, slapping, praise kink, blood, aftercare

summary: finally ready after being with jj for 7 months, you ask jj if you can take it a step further.

authors note: tbh i’m probably gonna make two more parts to this so i hope you guys enjoy it

part one | part two | part three

not edited ..

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

gif not mine

“what if something goes wrong? or what if i do something wrong?” you asked nervously. you cuddled in closer to him, legs tangled together with your head on his chest.

jj chuckled and ran a comforting hand over your thigh. “baby, nothings gonna go wrong. i promise. just relax and let me do all the work.”

you pouted lightly and cuddled in closer to him. “what if i like, accidentally punch you or something?”

that made him really laugh. “you won’t,” he said through his fit of laughter. “but hey, theres a first time for everything.”

you lightly slapped his stomach and hid your face in his neck. “that’s not funny, j.”

“it’s kinda funny,” he defended. “if you don’t wanna do this, we don’t have to. i don’t wanna make you feel like i’m pressuring you into this.”

you shook your head immediately against him. “i want to. ‘m just scared.”

“there’s nothing to be scared about, baby,” he reassured. “you trust me?”

“‘course i trust you j.”

he placed a soft kiss to your forehead. “then let me do all the work. i promise you nothing bad will happen to you when you’re with me. and if i do get punched or something, all good. sounds kinda hot.”

you slapped his chest again, making him laugh and pull you closer. he used the hand that wasn’t resting on your back to lift your chin up. he leaned down to gently connect your lips. he pressed in further and applied more pressure, hands finding your waist to pull you into his lap.

you smiled against his lips at his eagerness, only for the moment to be cut short when his hands squeezed your bottom through your shorts, making you gasp at the suddenness.

he used the opportunity to slip his tongue through your parted lips to begin exploring every inch he already knew so well. one of his hands came off your ass for a second just to come back with a hard slap. your hips bucked on top of his, making the both of you moan.

he grabbed your hips and smoothly rolled you over so you were now underneath him, jj straddling your legs as he began leaving soft kisses down your jawline and neck. once he reached the collar of your t-shirt, he tugged at the bottom. “can i take this off, sweet girl?”

you nodded and hummed. “mhm.” he swiftly pulled it over your head with your assistance of lifting yourself off the bed before his lips were back on you. they trailed down your neck to over the tops of your breasts then down your stomach.

you laughed slightly at the ticklish feeling. his hands held your waist as he splayed more kisses over your stomach, loving the sound of your laugh. you giggled harder and lightly pushed his head away. you could feel him smile against your skin as he kissed lower towards the waistband of your shorts. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered against your skin. “can i?”

“please,” you said breathily. your lifted your hips off the bed as he tugged your shorts down and threw them somewhere on the floor. he tugged his tank off and over his head as he began to grow hotter, throwing it somewhere like he’d done with your shorts.

you marveled at his toned stomach and tanned skin as long as you could before he was back to leaving kissed above the waist band of your panties. “look at you, baby. bein’ so good for me,” he praised, grabbing your bent legs and spreading them further so he could kiss the insides of your thighs. “my gorgeous girl.”

you hid your face under your arms, beginning to blush at the compliments and praise you were getting.

he placed a kiss over your panties just above your core, hands soothing over the insides of your thighs. “still doin’ okay, sweetheart?”

you nodded. “‘m okay.”

“is it good if i take ‘em off?” he asked softly, hands still caressing your thighs lovingly.

you took a deep breath and nodded once again. “yeah.”

his signature smile returned before he was shimmying your panties off and stuffing them into his back pocket. “fuck, baby. you’re so beautiful.” he laid down between your legs on his stomach, his pointer finger lightly running down your slit to see how you reacted.

once his finger bumped your clit, your eyes shut and your hips bucked up slightly. he did it again, but this time, you felt his mouth on you.

his tongue ran up your core, stopping at the top to lightly suck on your sensitive little button. your head tipped back against the pillows as you moaned loudly and gripped the sheets by your head. “tastes so good, princess.”

your lips parted when he continued doing it, holding your hips down to keep your from moving to much.

“oh, fuck, jj,” you moaned breathlessly, your hips starting to grind into his mouth.

he flattened his tongue against it before dragging it down and prodding at your entrance with the tip of the wet muscle.

your teeth caught your bottom lip, trying to silence the moans that were begging to spill. he dragged it back up, moving to suck on your clit yet again but with more pressure this time. your hands flew to his hair, lightly pulling when the pleasure began to get to be too much for you to handle. “fuck, jj. feels so good.”

“doin’ so well for me, pretty girl. so fuckin’ good.” and his mouth was back on you again immediately. his middle finger prodded at your entrance, rimming around it as his tongue worked wonders on your clit. “can i?”

you felt his finger pressing against you lightly. “yes. please.” you begged weakly.

the tip of his middle finger gently slipped into you, allowing you to get used to the foreign feeling before slowly pushing in to the first knuckle. he watched your face contort from one of discomfort into one of pleasure in a matter of seconds.

“oh, god, jj,” you moaned out. “‘m so close.”

“you’re doing so fuckin’ good for me, angel. best pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he praised. he pressed his finger in further, slowly beginning to move it in and out when he heard your pretty moans become more constant. “think you can handle another?”

you nodded eagerly, opening your eyes for a second to look down at him. “mhm,” you hummed. he carefully added his ring finger, both now stretching you out in the best way possible. he curled them inside you, making you bite your lip so hard you were sure you had drawn some blood. “right there, please j, right there.”

he could feel you clenching around his fingers. “such good girl. you gonna cum for me? hmm? gonna cum on my fingers?”

you were so close. right there. all you needed was that last little push. and he was right there to give it to you. his mouth found your clit again, sucking and licking at it while his fingers thrusted in and out of you.

“oh fuck. jj, ‘m coming,” you warned, hips bucking up to meet his mouth, legs shaking and hands pulling at his hair. “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he dragged it out a little longer before he felt your hands pushing his head lightly when the pleasure began to be too much. he slowly pulled his fingers from you and crawled up your body with soft kisses to follow, the last one landing on your lips. “you okay, pretty girl?”

you nodded, legs still shaking with the aftershock. “why is it doing that?” you asked, beginning to panic.

“you’re okay, baby. you’re fine. it happens. it was just intense,” he reassured, running his hand up your side and placing gentle kisses over the tops of your breasts.

you felt a gush between your legs, making you feel uneasy. when you leaned up on your forearms to see, you could see the white milky liquid tinged with red pooling between your thighs.

jj could see the embarrassed look on your face. “hey, hey it’s okay, sweetheart. it was your first time, happens to everyone. you’re fine, i promise.” you covered your face with your hands. “it’s fine. i swear. nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“j, i just bled on your sheets,” you said almost painfully.

he shook his head and got up to grab some towels. “it happens, baby. you’ve never had anything inside you and now that you have, it’s gonna bleed a little. it’s all good. you enjoy yourself?” you nodded shyly. “then don’t worry about it. i got a washing machine for a reason.”

he gently ran the towel along your puffy cunt, wiping up the mess the two of you had made before getting up to put the used fabric in the bathroom.

he disappeared once more before returning with a bottle of water. “here. drink some,” he said as he handed it off to you. you thanked him and took a few sips and he made himself comfortable next to you and waited for you to cuddle into him.

“you did so good for me today, pretty baby. might have to do this more often.”

#gracie writes jj maybank 🌸#jj maybank #obx jj #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank virgin smut #jj maybank obx #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank blurb #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff

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avocad1s · 10 months

Text

Pen and Paper

Requested By: Multiple anonymous users.

CW: Slightly suggestive. It mentions authors writing nsfw fanfic

Note: You all are crazy 💀 I got like seven requests for a part two ever since I posted about character’s writing fanfic about the creator. Most of them were the same so I decided to combine them.

Based off this post, but can be read as a standalone post

As established in the first part, people enjoy reading fanfics about you. However what we didn’t talk about are the authors of these books.

I think you already know but there are three known authors who write books about you, Yae Miko, Xingqiu, and Albedo.

All of them have their own way of making their writings unique.

Xingqiu writes platonic Creator fan-fiction, some people want to imagine you as their best friend or even as their parent. Having a familial connection to you is what some readers strive to have.

Albedo is the only one including art in his books, kinda like the pov fanarts you’ll see. Only problem with this is Albedo doesn’t make many copies of his books so getting your hand on one is a feat in itself. They go for lots of mora, very few people can afford it and they people who can, hoard them. (Ehem, Ninnguang, Ayato and Pantalone 💀)

Yae runs a publishing house and is the editor for many people’s work. So if anyone has an original idea for a story, it would be her. She is also the one everyone sends their work to so it can be published.

The Archons are a different case. They don’t have to read self-insert stories about you because there are definitely people writing Creator x Archon stories. Some of them are horribly out of character since not many people have interacted with their Archon and only have other writings to go off of. But that doesn’t stop them from getting the books. Ei, Zhongli, and Venti like reading romantic books about you. Nahida doesn’t read fanfics about you often, but when she wants to know more about human nature, she’ll read some about you being her parent.

Now onto what everyone requested. You reading these fanfics.

Like I mention before, once you arrive to Teyvat there not going to try and hide these fanfics from you. They just doesn’t expect you to see them.

But you do. In fact, you read them.

To make matters worse you read them in public. Out loud.

Once the acolytes notice what you’re reading out loud they’re mortified. We’re you punishing them? Or do you find humor in reading these? Many characters are ready to get on their knees and apologize for reading these books, they don’t want you to be disgusted with them or get on your bad side. They’d be so sad!

If the authors of these books caught wind that you’ve read their books, they’ll be slightly embarrassed as well. It feels sacrilegious to think of you in such a manner but can you really blame them?

If you ask them to stop writing, they’ll stop publishing the fanfics… what you don’t know won’t hurt you :)

If you don’t care or even encourage it, then many more people will begin writing fanfics. Mostly with the hopes that you’ll read it. Perhaps if they pour their feelings onto paper you’ll notice how they feel for you?

Albedo would ask if you would model for one of his books. He’s drawn you multiple times but if you’re right in front of him, he knows he can make it more accurate. (Please let him, he’s begging with his eyes)

Slight nsfw behind this point, if that’s not your cup of tea, you may take your leave.

Of course if fanfics exist, so does nsfw fanfics.

You know how in the bookstores they have adult books wrapped in plastic? Yeah, the nations would also put their own barrier so the wrong audience don’t end up grabbing it.

These are the books they do not want you finding. Just imagine the look on their faces if they see you with one of those books.

Before you descended finding these books were almost impossible, many people weren’t sure what you looked like. All they had were scriptures of what your heavenly form looked like and ancient drawings of you that was hard to get your hands on unless you had some kind of power in the nations.

However once they get to see you with their own eyes…

Yeah they’re horknee 💀🙏

Having you in such a provocative way is something for their wildest imagination, so they will use these books to fill that void.

Dom Creator, Sub Creator… you name it. You can find it.

These books cannot be checked out at any library. No one wants a sticky book returned, have some mercy on your librarian.

I apologize for that sentence above 😭

Anyways, could you imagine finding your favorite of age character reading one of these books? They’ll try to quickly hide it a dark blush on their face as they apologize to you for reading such content.

But what makes them blush even darker is when you offer to recreate whatever they’re reading in real life. They’re stuttering and their bodies are trembling, but they aren’t going to deny such an offer from their dearest Creator.

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

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islandofsages · 4 months

Note

So i got some silly idea, Can i request Savanaclaw dorm with male raccoon beastman reader 🦝 (who is also a third year Savanaclaw student) that likes to ✨ collect trash ✨ and ✨ dumpster driving ✨ Like, He is not poor but he just likes to do that. Thanks! Have a great day!

characters: the savanaclaw boys x male raccoon beastman third year reader

tags: platonic, fluff, imagines format

warnings: none

author's notes: i feel like i made dumpster-diving sound like thrifting in this ... i love thrifting can you tell

Leona Kingscholar

“...Whaddya think ya’re doing?”

Oh, you thought it was obvious but apparently not. You're dumpster diving obviously

A better question would be what is Leona Kingscholar doing near a bunch of dumpsters. You point this out to him

He actually seems to ponder that question for a second. What is he doing there, entertaining some dumpster-diver? Then he realizes that it doesn’t matter

His face merely contorts into an irritated frown and he mumbles something about “fucking raccoon beastpeople and their weird habits” then walks off

You watch his silhouette grow smaller by the second then shrug to yourself. His loss

He doesn’t say anything when you come back to the dorms carrying the junk you get from your scavenging but you can tell he’s somewhat curious of what you found

One time you come back bringing a wholeass couch and it’s somehow in mint condition - he’s more bewildered by the people who’s throwing the trash than you at this point

It’s definitely not for him but as long as you don’t bother him and that you’re happy, he doesn’t say a word about your habits.

Jack Howl

He tries not to be too judgemental since there’s all kinds of people in NRC and he feels like he’s definitely seen weirder things by now

He’s a little confused but he got the spirit! Spirit of what exactly? Spirit of supporting you and respecting his upperclassmen obviously

He’s somewhat stiff around you since you’re older and he doesn’t want to offend you in any way - so you make an effort to make him more comfortable around you

You’d tell him about what you find in your little adventures and he seems to be amused by the kind of stuff people easily throw away here

“That’s part of the magic! Plus, once you get used to the stench and filth, it’s really not all that bad.”

He believes and trusts your words but he still won’t try it for himself. He’ll leave it all up to you and your expertise

Sooner or later, with enough storytelling, a smile on his face becomes a common look for him whenever you’re around

You’d even bring him back stuff you found that you think he’d like (after thoroughly washing them and bringing them back to the best condition of course)

Whenever you see him use the stuff you give to him, whether it’s a decoration in his room or it’s on his person, you feel a little proud of the bond you’ve nurtured with him.

Ruggie Bucchi

He understands the need to stoop to that level but when you tell him you don’t even need the stuff you collect and just do it for fun, he’s silent for a bit

Still won’t judge you for it! Plus sometimes he gets the good stuff from your scavenges so he’s not complaining

Once he gets curious enough, he’ll tag along on the diving… and it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

It’s stinky and dirty but sometimes he really hits the jackpot in some of the dumpsters. It’s like a thrift store but even cheaper somehow

“(Y/N), look at what I found! Are you seeing this right now?”

You unironically become dumpster-diving buddies and the two of you would review the stuff you got after each session to decide if you’re going to keep some or not

You guys can probably get a lot of clout if you start a YouTube channel

You two grow a lot closer after enlightening him of the joys of dumpster-diving, which you aren’t too surprised about since it’s a common bonding experience for you raccoon beastpeople

But as you look back on your memories of junk-collecting and look forward towards Ruggie's laugh, you can’t help but laugh with him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #platonic twst x reader #platonic twisted wonderland x reader #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x male reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader #jack howl x male reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi x male reader

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a-simple-gaywitch · 9 months

Text

Heart Full of You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: When Spencer goes to pick Henry up from school for JJ, he doesn't expect to fall head-over-heels for his teacher

Warnings: Mentions of guns, I think that's it?

Word Count: 4541

Author's Note: I don't really like the ending I have here, but I'd LOVE to continue writing this universe, I have so many ideas!

“Fate shuffles the cards and we play.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer

Spencer walked through the doors of Henry and Jack’s school and headed toward the theater. JJ and Hotch had signed the boys up for the school district’s musical and had asked Spencer to pick them up. JJ and Will had their Thursday date night, and Hotch was stuck in the office. Spencer was more than happy to agree. He slipped into the auditorium and took a seat at the back, since he was still pretty early.

He saw a younger woman, probably in her early 20s, at the front of the auditorium with a clipboard and tape measure. She was presumably taking the students’ measurements for costumes while the instructor up on the stage led the children through the dance steps. The man he knew to be one of the high school teachers sat in the middle of the front row, making notes in a book.

The dance instructor clapped as the song ended. “Okay, everyone, that’s the choreo for the day. I’ll turn you over to Mr. Meadows.” She nodded to the teacher in the front row.

“Thank you Miss (Y/N). Take a water break, everyone, we’re back in five.”

A small chorus of “thank you five” was heard from the older students as the kids dispersed off the stage. The woman, Miss (Y/N) as Mr. Meadows had called her, hopped off the stage with ease and joined the younger woman who was taking a high schooler’s measurements.

“Okay, folks, let’s bring it back!” Mr. Meadows called. “Take your seats, please. I won’t keep you too much longer, I just want to go over today’s notes.” Spencer noticed the monotonous tone of his voice and the elementary schoolers’ attentions already fading. “First, I need my principles, minus Jack and Red, right at 3 tomorrow. Do not be late. Evan, that means you. We have vocal work to do with Ms. (Y/N) and I do not want to waste her time. The rest of my high school cast, 3:30. Next, principles, do your linework. The sooner you start, the easier things will be later. Finally, my junior cast, don’t forget to see Ms. (Y/N) and Ms. Addi with your grown-up before you leave. And with that, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Henry ran over to Spencer, his overly large backpack thumping against his back. Jack walked behind him, dragging his bag behind him.

“Uncle Spencer!”

“Hey, kiddos!” Spencer said, kneeling down to catch the incoming Henry in a hug. Before he knew what was happening, Henry was dragging him towards the two women at the front of the auditorium.

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“Hey, Henry! Hi, Jack! You boys find your grownups?” the dance instructor asked him. Her clothes reminded Spencer of the teacher on that Magic School Bus show Henry liked. Her pants were covered in music notes and she wore large, dangle feather earrings.

Henry nodded. “Uh-huh! This is my Uncle Spencer!”

You looked at Spencer and smiled. “Well, while I talk to your uncle, why don’t you go let Miss Addi take your measurements for your costume?”

Once Henry bounded over to the young woman with a clipboard, Jack following close behind, Spencer said, “Uh, my name’s Spencer Reid. I’m an authorized pick-up for both Henry Lamontagne and Jack Hotchner. I’ll be bringing him home today, too.”

“Uh, Hotchner, Hotchner,” you muttered under your breath, flipping through the clipboard in your hands. “Ah, here he is. I just need your signature next to both children’s names, Mr. Reid.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He took the clipboard and pen from you. “So, are you new to the district? I don’t remember seeing you around before.”

“Oh, no,” you said with a laugh. “No, I’m here on a volunteer basis, technically. Been working with the theater department for six years, but I’m not on their payroll. I actually work-”

“Can we go get pizza now?” Henry asked Spencer, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Ooh, a pizza party? You must be the fun uncle,” you said.

Spencer’s face flushed and cleared his throat. “Uh, s-sure, Henry. We’ll get it on the way home.”

“Bye, Miss (Y/N)!” Henry said, wildly waving his arm.

“Bye, Henry, bye Jack. I’ll see you boys on Monday.”

Spencer watched you for just a moment longer as another child and her guardian approached you.

The team was reviewing a local case. 3 women were killed, all dressed in period clothing.

“You think he’s making them look like Jack the Ripper’s victims? I mean, their throats are slashed and they’re dressed in Victorian clothing.” Morgan suggested. “And we know the victims are low-risk, victims of opportunity.”

“I don’t know,” Reid muttered, scrutinizing the crime scene photos. “Something about the clothes feels off.”

“The clothes are the key. Something about them will lead us to him,” Rossi said.

“Reid, you and Callahan look into the clothing more. Dave, you and Morgan go to the latest crime scene. JJ, you’re with me. We need to build a geological profile.” After Hotch gave the assignments, the team dispersed. Spencer and Kate Callahan stayed in the briefing room, looking over the photos.

“What if we have an expert look at the clothes?” Kate suggested. “See if anything sticks out to them? There’s a professor at the university that’s known for her dissertation on historical clothing.”

“Now, if you look at contemporary theater, you’ll notice huge differences in how typical gender roles are portrayed. Unlike the standard Golden Age piece, women are given more agency and more purpose in the story besides furthering the objective of the man. For example, West Side Story versus Hairspray. Even though both shows center on a woman, it’s Tracy’s will that drives the plot of Hairspray whereas Maria’s will does not drive West Side Story. This goes back to our discussion earlier in the semester regarding protagonists. However, we do see a shift during the Golden Age, in that women are beginning to be fleshed out as characters. Compare the women in Allegro to the women in Gypsy. As we progress through to the contemporary age, we begin to see more female-led shows take stage.” You glanced at your watch and sighed. “And that is where we will pick up next class. Please remember to read chapters 13 and 14 in your text. If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

Your class gathered their belongings and slowly made their way out of the room. You were tucking your own belongings into your bag when you felt someone approach the desk.

“Office hours are at- Oh, hello.” When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of you, presenting an FBI badge.

“Dr. (L/N), my name is SSA Kate Callahan, and this is my partner Dr. Spencer Reid.” Standing behind her was a man you recognized from the school. He was the uncle Henry Lamontagne talked about all the time. “We were hoping you’d be willing to give us your professional opinion on some clothing pieces.”

“Oh, well, uh, sure. Let me just email my next class and let them know it’s canceled.”

As you pulled your laptop out from your bag, Agent Callahan asked, “Don’t you have a TA that could take over?”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m a professor in the theatre department. I’m lucky I have my own workshop and somewhat of a budget during show season.” You typed up a quick email to your next class and sent it. “I usually work in my shop instead of my office, but-”

“Wherever is most comfortable for you,” Agent Callahan said. “We have some pictures that are… well, gruesome.”

You nodded. “Well, then, to the dungeons it is.” At the concerned look the agents gave each other, you said, “My workshop is in the basement. My students affectionately christened it the dungeons a few years ago. I hope you don’t mind a few sets of stairs.”

“Lead the way,” Dr. Reid said.

Getting down to the costume shop was like a quest on its own. Not only did you have to trudge down several staircases from the classroom floors, but then you had to use your ID to take the elevator the rest of the way down. When you finally reached the basement, you dug your key hoop out of your bag and flicked through it. The key to the main portion of your shop was attached to a Phantom of the Opera keychain.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to my shop. Feel free to sit wherever you can. If there’s stuff on a chair, just set it on a workbench.” As you set your bag down at the desk in the corner, Spencer looked around the room. It could be accurately described as organized chaos. While the work benches were covered in fabrics, thread, and many other things Spencer didn’t know the names of, everywhere else was meticulously organized. Bins and drawers were labeled, and not a thing seemed out of place. Spencer looked at the dress hanging on a mannequin and couldn't think of it as anything other than a work of art. There was elaborate beading on the bodice and embroidery on the skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” you asked as Kate and Spencer got settled.

“We were hoping you could tell us about the outfits in these pictures,” Spencer said, pulling a file out from his satchel. “Fair warning, it’s not pleasant.”

You shrugged. “I grew up with a mom obsessed with crime shows and police procedurals. Pictures won’t bother me.”

Spencer handed you the file folder. “We think he’s dressing them up like Jack the Ripper’s victims.”

You hummed as you looked through the pictures. “Any idea what kind of fabric was used?”

“Why does that matter?” Kate asked.

“Well, cotton was a luxury in Victorian London,” you explained. “Most common folk wore linen or wool, because it was what they could afford. It was also common to patch up clothing with fabric found around the house rather than replace a shirt or a pair of trousers.” You grabbed a magnifier from your desk and looked closer at one of the photos.

“Do you see something?” Spencer asked as you moved to another picture.

“I’m not sure,” you said.

“Well, what is your gut telling you?” Callahan asked.

You pointed toward a small section of embroidery through the magnifier. “This stitching along the underside of the skirt. It’s on all of them.”

Kate’s eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a signature. Us designers like to add some sort of signature or tell into all our pieces. A secret way of letting the world know the piece is ours.” You reached across the desk and grabbed a piece of fabric. When you unfolded it, they saw it was a shirt. You held the edge of the sleeve out for the agents to see. “For example, I use a treble clef as mine. My mentor would include Mickey Mouse heads because she was a huge Disney fan. Other people just find creative ways to embroider their initials onto it in a way that just looks like an artistic choice.”

“So, if we can find out whose signature it is, it can lead us to the origin of the outfits,” Spencer said.

“I’ll call Garcia, see what she can find.” Callahan said.

“Oh, we don’t get cell service down here, you might need to go back upstairs,” you told her. She nodded and stepped out of the workshop. You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid.”

“You, too,” Spencer said with a small smile. “So, this is where you actually work, huh?”

You gave a small laugh. “Yep. Start of this semester was 7 years.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks. So-”

“Reid. Hotch wants us back. Rossi and Morgan might have something. Thank you for your help, Dr. (L/N).”

“Of course. Happy to help.”

After Callahan and Reid left the costume shop, Kate said, “Okay, spill. The energy in there was really weird. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t know I knew her.” At Kate's questioning look, he explained, “I met her through my godson. She volunteers at his school and goes by her first name there.”

“Uh-huh. And the awkwardness?”

“When have you known me to not be awkward, Callahan?”

Kate hummed, but dropped it.

You were humming along to the soundtrack you had playing, measuring a drape of fabric on your dress form, pins sticking out from your mouth. You glanced from your notebook with your measurements and pattern sketch to the fabric. You pinned a piece of the cloth up when you heard a knock at the door to your shop.

“Come in,” you said, your voice muffled from the pins. You stuck them back in the pin cushion on your wrist before standing up and dusting off your pants. “Oh, Dr. Reid! How can I help you?”

“You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he said. “I uh, I wanted to stop by and tell you we caught the guy,” Spencer said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “We-we couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure you would have figured it out anyway. The BAU seems to be good at that kind of thing.”

Spencer gave a small laugh. “Yes, but your help enabled us to track him down without any more lives lost.” So, what are you working on?”

“Oh, I’m making one of Eponine’s dresses. We’re doing Les Mis this semester. I have Cosette’s dress on Cordelia over there.”

“Who?”

“Oh, sorry. The dress form. We named them after Shakespearian women. It’s just a fun little thing we do here. That’s Cordelia, this one by me is Rosalind.”

Spencer smiled. You know, maybe you could tell me more about what exactly your job is at dinner?” Before you could answer, Spencer said, “Obviously, you don’t have to, I’m not trying to force you into anything, I-”

“Spencer,” you said, holding your hand up to calm him. “I’d love to go out with you. Here-” You walked over to your desk and shuffled papers around. “Aha!” You grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “My personal number. That way we can, you know, figure out something that works with both our schedules. I’m sure yours is even crazier and more unpredictable than mine.”

The smile you gave Spencer lit a warmth in his chest that he didn’t think he would ever get tired of.

“Pretty Boy! Tonight, drinks on me.”

“Oh, uh, no thanks, Morgan.”

“No, no, no, you can’t just stay in when we finally have a Friday night off. You’re coming.”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean, I don’t, but it’s not just that. I, um, I already have plans.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll see you all on Monday.” He grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the BAU office.

Morgan’s brow furrowed as he watched Spencer’s retreating form.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked.

“Remember the last time Reid was this jittery and secretive?”

She sighed. “You know I do.”

“What happened last time?” Kate asked.

“Maeve,” Garcia answered, her voice just above a whisper.

“We have to find out what’s going on with him,” Derek decided.

“I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Let’s follow him,” Garcia cut Kate off. “See where he’s going, what he’s up to.”

“That can’t be true!” Spencer laughed. “There’s no way!”

You were laughing too. “I’m serious! I stapled the sleeve of my sweater to the set piece we were building and I didn’t notice until we were ready to lift it into place! They wouldn’t let me in the wood shop after that.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. You were funny, smart, and everything he could hope for.

“So, how did you end up working with the school district?”

“My niece,” you explained. “Her senior year, their regular choreographer went on maternity leave. The district said if they couldn’t find someone to fill the role, they would cut the play. Julia called me melting down over it, begging me to volunteer. And, you know, I’ve never been able to say no to my nieces and nephews. After that production, we found out that the choreographer was quitting to be a stay-at-home mom, so I agreed to be the regular choreographer on a volunteer basis. Then the next year, their costume connections fell through. I worked through the university to provide costumes, which is how the internship program started. This year, I’m just filling in on vocal directing while the choir director is out on medical leave. And Into the Woods is one of my favorites to sing anyway. So, what about you? How’d you end up working for the FBI?”

While Spencer told you about going to college at 12 and meeting Gideon, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were sitting at a nearby table, hiding behind menus.

“Who is she?” Garcia asked, trying to get a better look at you. Your back was to their table.

“I don’t know. Never seen her before.”

JJ squinted. “Something about her seems familiar.”

Before they could do more digging, a waiter came over to take their orders. When the waiter left, Spencer’s table was empty.

“Where did they-”

Spencer walked up to their table, arms crossed against his chest. “Really, guys? Did you think you were being discreet?”

“Kid, look-”

“You were being all secretive, we were worried about you!” Garcia cut in.

Spencer sighed and dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. I just- We’re all so in each other’s business, and this is so new I-”

“You wanted to keep it to yourself,” JJ said. “We get it. Looks like she’s coming back from the bathroom. We’ll get out of your hair.”

“But-”

“Come on, Pen. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it on Monday. Right, Spence?”

Spencer smiled. “Sure, Jayje.”

Phone calls with your family always stressed you out. It wasn’t that you had issues with your family, it was just that they always seemed to be up in your business. And that held true for your monthly family dinner.

“(Y/N/N), I’m telling you, you’d get along great with this guy,” your older sister, Maria, said. You were over at her house for dinner, your parents and other two siblings video-calling from their respective locations. “I know you feel like ‘the universe and fate will align’ and introduce you to your soulmate or some shit, but that’s not really how the world works.”

You sighed. “Maria-”

“Come on, you haven’t dated anyone since college!”

“Because I haven’t had any interest. Liz, back me up here,” you said to your younger sister, who was feeding her twin toddlers.

“What?”

You shook your head. “Never mind. Can we just change the subject, please? Tommy, how’s school going?” you asked your younger brother, the youngest in the family. You could tell he was only half paying attention from his dorm room. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

“Maria’s right, sweetheart,” your mother said. “How will you ever meet someone without putting yourself out there?”

“Ma-”

“I mean, you’re not getting any younger-”

“I have a boyfriend, okay, Ma? I don’t need your help!”

Your family fell silent.

“You have a boyfriend?” Liz was the first to speak. “What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How-”

“Elizabeth, let her breathe!” your father said with a laugh. “We’re happy for you, pumpkin. Tell us about him. At your pace, of course.”

You smiled and told them about Spencer. Only after promising to bring him to the next real family dinner did they relent and change the subject, pestering your little brother about his college classes.

You and Spencer were a damn near perfect match. After that first date, the two of you barely went a day without calling or texting each other. When he was in town and not across the country on a case, he would bring you lunch. You’d frequently stay over at each others’ apartments. Months into your relationship, you knew each other better than yourselves.

Which is why, when you didn’t answer your phone on a Saturday afternoon when the team got back from a case, Spencer was concerned. He made his way to your apartment and fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket. He pushed your door open.

“(Y/N)? Love?” He walked into your apartment, which was unusually messy. Scraps of fabric were littered around the room, and music was blasting from your home office. “(Y/N)?”

You came rushing out of your kitchen, your hair a wild mess and your oversized pajama top drooping from your shoulder. You skidded to a halt.

“Spencer! What are you doing here?”

“We just got in from the case. I tried calling-”

“You did?”

“-to see if you wanted to grab dinner.” You pulled your phone from your sweatpants pocket and saw the 3 missed calls from Spencer. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You sighed. “I haven’t. I’ve been working nonstop. I need to make the mask for the Wolf, the Witch's coat, and Enjolras and the other revolutionary’s waistcoats, and my sister asked me to make a dress for her coworker’s daughter’s quinceanera and-”

“Whoa, whoa, hey. Breathe.” He cupped your face in his hands. “You need to stop working yourself so hard,” he said, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Says the man who overworked himself so much he developed chronic migraines.” At his raised eyebrow, you said, “Sorry.”

He smiled softly and kissed your forehead. “Why don’t you let me help you out a bit? Give me instructions, I’m a quick learner.”

You reached up and pulled his hands from your face. “Spencer. As much as I absolutely treasure and adore you, the thought of you seeing the absolute disaster that is my home workshop right now is literally the most terrifying thing I can imagine. More terrifying than you meeting my family. Which, by the way, my mom is insistent that you come to Thanksgiving this year.” You yawned and leaned your head against his chest.

“We can talk about that later.” He kissed the top of your head. “How about now, into bed? You’re dead on your feet, love.” When you only nodded, Spencer led you to your bedroom.

After getting you settled in your bed, Spencer went to stand up. You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Stay,” you mumbled, tugging him towards your bed.

The next morning, Spencer walked into the round-table room late.

“Well, look who’s wearing the same clothes,” Derek said. “Fun night?”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee.

Hotch looked over Reid before saying, “As I was saying, Indianapolis needs us to write up a consult. Garcia is passing around the case file.”

Spencer was filling out paperwork at his desk when his phone started ringing. “Dr. Spencer Reid.” He froze as he heard the person on the other end of the line. “Oh- oh my god. Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll be right there. Uh, thank you.” He slammed the phone down and started gathering his belongings.

“What’s wrong, Reid?” JJ asked, watching Spencer cram a folder into his satchel.

“(Y/N)’s at the police station.”

You were walking home from the fabric supply store when a young man stopped you. He couldn’t have been older than 20. He pulled a gun and pointed it at you.

“Give me your purse,” he said. You saw the way his hand was wavering.

You straightened up. “No.”

“You-you can’t say no! I-I have a gun!”

You just blinked at the man- practically a boy. Then you kicked him in the groin, causing him to drop the gun as his hands flew to cup his injury. You pressed your foot on top of the gun, preventing him from picking it back up, then you dialed the police.

They brought you to the station to give a statement. You were sitting next to one of the detective’s desks when Spencer ran in.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay? What happened?”

The detective nodded at you and gestured toward where Reid had come from, indicating you were free to go.

You shrugged at Spencer. “Some punk-ass kid tried to mug me. Had a gun and everything.”

“What?”

“It’s fine, I knew he wasn’t gonna go through with it.”

“How could you possibly have known that?”

“Spence, I’m from Philly. It’s not the first time someone’s tried to mug me at gunpoint.”

His eyes went wide as saucers. “That doesn’t make it better!”

You smiled and kissed Spencer’s cheek before taking his hand. “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I love you.” Your smile widened as Spencer’s face started to pale. “I mean, uh-”

“I love you too, Spence. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Okay, closing night,” Mr. Meadows said, addressing the students, all in their brightly colored costumes. “I’m incredibly proud of all of you for making it this far. This is our last show, you’ve all done great so far. Go out there and give them one last show to remember. Now, before we get in places, Ms. (Y/N) is going to lead you through a vocal warm-up.”

“Thanks, Mr. Meadows,” you said, taking your spot in front of the group. “Okay, guys, you know the drill. Repeat after me, then all together.” You took a deep breath before leading, “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock, in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block.”

After the cast ran through their warm-up, you said, “I’m so proud of all of you. Go out there and break legs. I’ll see you all after at intermission.” You waved before slipping from backstage, making your way to the lobby.

It wasn’t often that you got to just sit and enjoy the hard work your students put in, but one of your interns was staying backstage in case of any costume emergencies. You spotted Spencer in the crowd and wove through everyone to get to him. With him were Henry’s parents, Jack’s father and aunt, as well as the rest of the BAU team.

“Hey,” Spencer said, grabbing your hand and giving you a quick kiss. “Glad you could join us.”

“Me, too,” you said as you slowly made your way into the auditorium to find your seats. “It’s gonna be nice to just enjoy the show for once.”

As the show began, you felt Spencer looking at you.

"What?" you whispered.

"Nothing. The costumes are beautiful. You're an artist."

Your cheeks flushed at his words. You took his hand in yours and rested your head on his shoulder.

Like Cinderella and her prince, Spencer was your happily ever after.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #bau

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loveshotzz · 10 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap eight/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Red, White & Boom

summary: A Fourth of July block party ends in fireworks.

wc: 6.8k (🙄 it’s fine, you’re falling in love.)

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. I don’t know based on Steve’s promise in the last one, what do you think? 😏

author’s note: there were so many different versions of this chapter before I got here and I just want to say thank you to my friends who helped me through this one. I just wanted it to be perfect 🧡

🌇 <- chapter seven | (bonus chapter playlist)

🌆 -> chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

July 4th -

Instead of the Good Morning tough girl you were expecting the next day, it was Good Morning beautiful that you read.

Steve Harrington woke you up calling you beautiful for the three mornings after that too.

The night before the fourth, you could hardly sleep with his promise to kiss you still fresh in your mind. It lingered and attached itself to every thought since he left you with it.

How was he going to do it? When was he going to do it? When he picks you up? Middle of the date? End of the date? What if he changes his mind?

The nerves are even worse as you stare at yourself in the long mirror of your room and your eyes catch the time. 1:52pm. Steve was ‘picking you up’ at two and you were on your fourth outfit in the last hour. Trying to find something that was cute enough for a first date but also practical for walking around the city in the summer heat was starting to feel impossible.

Date.

The word makes the fluttering start before he’s even arrived, a smile tugging at your lips when you think it again. Would you get used to it?

The shorts you settle on are a high waisted dark denim pair that cut off and fringe in the middle of your thighs, The black low cut ribbed top you match them with has a lace trim along the sleeves and the dip down down the middle. It hugs your curves in a way that makes you feel confident, something in your closet you know you won’t spend the whole day adjusting and fiddling with.

Knock, knock - knock, knock

Jumping when you hear his knuckles against the wood, you give yourself another once over before deciding it’s good enough. With your shoes still in the corner of your room, your slippers slide against your floor all the way to your front door. Nerves tighten your chest, a shaky breath leaving between glossed lips before you stop to give yourself a minute to let it sink in- mentally preparing to see the man who showed up at your front door steps with his heart in his hands. Your handsome neighbor with a past and a Bandit as his best friend.

You have to hold back the sigh that threatens to escape when you lay your eyes on him for the first time since that night. His grin is lopsided, the almost beard he had is gone, like he’d shaved it the next day leaving just the kind of stubble you liked the most.

“Hey, tough girl.” Pearly whites flash when he says it sweet, dripping with extra honey just for you.

His hair is freshly done like when he’s on his way to work, the grays on the sides seem lighter from spending a weekend out in the sun. The sleeves are short on his dark navy button up, the linen material fitting him loose and snug in all the right places. The two ivory buttons on top are undone, leaving a place for his Raybans to dangle. The weight of them pulls it down just enough to see the beginnings of his dark curls underneath and the silver pendant at the end of the chain that always hangs around his neck.

“Hi Steve.” You bite your bottom lip to try and contain your smile, your hips twisting from side to side with your hands behind your back, you can’t help it when he talks to you like that.

He’s wearing the same pants you saw him in when you brought him cannolis. The cream ones he almost kissed you in. The bottoms are cuffed, a pair of dark brown loafers on his feet, they look worn in but the gold buckle on top of them still shines in the dingy light of your stairwell.

“You look too pretty to be going on a date with me,” he says it in a way that almost makes you believe it.

“Look who’s talkin’, handsome,” you manage to get out, making the apples of his cheeks dust your favorite shade of pink.

Opening your apartment door a little wider, the knots in your stomach twist a little tighter when his eyes linger on your lips.

Is he gonna do it now?

“You can come in, I just gotta put on my shoes.” You clear your throat, stepping aside when he doesn’t make any moves, tugging at the low cut collar of your shirt like it’s tight as your blood starts to run hot.

You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when he crosses the threshold, it’s different today, more woodsy than you’re used to and it makes your head spin. He looks around with fresh eyes, admiring all the details he missed now that he can see them in the light of day. Glimpses of you that he hasn’t gotten to know yet. Missing pieces to your puzzle. His gaze slowly finds its way to your kitchen that almost sparkles.

“That’s two visits in a row that I’ve come here and your dishes are done.” Steve points to your empty sink, “I’m impressed.”

He gets his first eye roll of the day.

“Careful, we haven’t left yet. I could still cancel.” Wiggling your slipper covered feet as a reminder, you smirk. “My shoes aren’t even on, it’d be so easy to do.”

“Oh yeah? How easy?” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, the corners of his mouth twitch as he tries to keep his face straight.

“Like flipping a light switch, easy,” you retort smugly, making sure to sway your hips a little more when you walk to your room. Fighting the giddy smile that threatens to take over your face, you lose when you’re out of his sight.

You aren’t expecting him to follow you, but you find him standing in your doorway when you take a seat on your bed.

“If it’s so easy…” there’s a new confidence in the way he looks at you now, like knows you want him too.

He looks at the untied sneakers next to your feet before taking the first steps into your room. He pauses to let you stop him, but when you smirk at him with a cocked eyebrow he closes the rest of the space. Crouching down in front of you, playful eyes meet yours from under thick lashes. The freckles that dot the top of his nose seem darker in the daylight. You wonder if there’s a way to find and kiss all of them.

“Let me make it harder.”

He’s gentle when he takes your socked foot in his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping through the cotton. It makes your heart race. He grabs your sneaker, the slight platform looking small in his grasp when his fingers wrap around your ankle to push it on. The pad of his thumb rubs at the soft skin there when he has to use a little force.

Long fingers work the laces like a pro, forearms flexing when he tightens after each eyelet, always just enough, never too tight. Leaning back on your palms, you watch him with the kind of adoration you couldn’t hide even if you tried when he repeats the same process on your other foot.

He ties both in a perfect bow, a proud smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes when he looks up for your approval. Your favorite strand already begs to come out of its gelled confines and your fingers itch ready to brush it away again if it escapes.

“I usually double tie it,” you giggle with another wiggle of your foot. “I mean, if you really wanna make sure I stay put.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, hot breath fanning against your skin that leaves goosebumps in its wake. He holds your stare while tying his perfect bow into a duplicate on both shoes, smirking when you squirm.

“No running now honey.”

The neighborhood is alive in a different way than you’ve seen before, the rush of everyday life is replaced with sparklers, Italian ice, and live music. The cars that lined the sides of the street including Steve’s are nowhere to be seen. Multicolored tents with homemade signs of vendors from all over the city replace them instead.

The sun hangs high, bright in the cerulean sky. Golden and warm like the man next to you. His Raybans cover his eyes now, leaving you defenseless against trying to read his thoughts. It’s different in public like this, it’s not just you two in the spaces between houses - in front yards, in alleys, in kitchens. It’s new feelings, new territory, and lots of people, but Steve searches for comfort in you when he takes your hand into his like it’s nothing.

“This is not what I was expecting when you said block party,” you say with an overwhelmed giggle, walking with no real destination, moving with the crowd.

The fair rides catch your sight from the end of the street taking up the middle school parking lot. A ferris wheel just high enough you think you’d be able to see the lake from the top of it. It blinks multicolored bulbs, red white and blue flags hanging from its hinges blowing in the breeze haphazardly. The sweet smell of honey roasted almonds almost over powers the sizzle of Italian beef, and the butter of the popcorn.

“Yeah, they go all out because it’s sponsored,” Steve offers with a shy smile, “This is actually my first one if I’m being honest, I usually go out of town for these, Bandit hates fireworks.”

“Wait? Is he home? Is he going to be okay? Do you have one of those vest thingy’s? I’ve read about them-“ Your pace slows, worry setting deep in your features and Steve thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yes, he’s in good hands. He’s staying with his aunt Nancy in the suburbs where it’s not so bad.” He chuckles, pulling your hand to his lips, they’re soft like silk when they press a kiss to your skin. It’s enough for your face to relax, eyes glazing over at the contact. “I promise honey.”

“Such a good daddy Steve, it’s cute,” you giggle, the nickname falling way too easily off your lips to not even be looking at him. Steve’s jaw clenches, he wants to kiss you. Bad. It doesn’t help that your gloss shimmers like glitter in the sun. Tempting him. The worst part is knowing you’d let him kiss you too.

Not yet - the plan.

His hand twitches at his side, he wants the familiar comfort of his fingers through his hair to ease his nerves but he can’t. It took him way too long to get it styled like this. Instead, he scratches at his jaw with a tight lipped smile.

“Thanks, I try.”

The two of you wander through the different tents, a tentative hand always finding its way to your lower back whenever you stop at something you want to take a closer look at. Light conversation about your weeks at work comes easy, your touches staying a little shy, both of you unsure how to act in such a crowded place.

The more the afternoon goes on like this, the endless butterflies that only exist for him start to stir from their cocoons. It’s when you lean over a table to get a better look at a moonstone that’s delicately hanging from a silver chain, that they start to stretch their wings. They flutter when you feel bold fingertips trace a line up your spine before long fingers wrap around the back of your neck giving the tense muscles there a squeeze. The pad of his thumb digging lightly into the spot behind your ear that makes your eyes want to close. You tuck your bottom lip between teeth to hold back your groan, the week of heavy trays and heavy thoughts coming loose under his touch.

“You like that one?” His voice startles you, it’s deep, rich and just above a whisper right by your ear. He chuckles when you jump a little letting his hand slide down the dip of your back, blunt nails scratching at the small of it.

“Yeah, it’s cute. I used to have one just like it but I lost it a few years ago.” Your eyes trace around the smooth stone, before seeing the sixty dollar price tag attached to it.

Not that cute.

“Hopefully not in a sink.” It comes out of his mouth like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.

The glare you give him makes him snort, hands raising in surrender while your reflection in his lenses turns you into a giggling mess. The sixty year old woman in a moo moo trying to cool herself down with a paper fan on the other side of the table doesn’t think either of you are very funny. Steve digs for his wallet, your mouth opening in protest before he pulls out a crisp twenty from the tan leather billfold.

“Let’s get out of her hair, I saw something a few tables down that I want to grab for Eddie. Want to get us a lemonade and I’ll meet you?” Steve points to the concession stand on the other side of the tent, where a line of over excited kids and their already worn out parents have formed.

You watch his eyebrows raise behind the frames of his sunglasses when you just stare at the money in his hand making no indication of grabbing it. He knows what you’re doing.

“I asked you on a date if you remember, tough girl, I can buy you a what? A six dollar drink?” He huffs, lips twitching despite himself.

Steve gets his second eye roll of the day, this one accompanied with the kind of smile he wants from you all the time. He hopes it was the reminder that you were on a date with him that makes you beam like that.

“Fair enough of an argument, I guess,” you sigh with a hint of a giggle at the end, and it makes him shake his head, white teeth on display leaving you a giddy mess.

He holds the bill out for you to take again, even though his eyes are hidden behind tinted lenses, you know he’s giving you a look. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing, your fingers wrapping around the bill sweetly.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he starts as you tuck the twenty into your back pocket.

“I got your number handsome.” You wink, making his cheeks bubblegum pink as you walk away. “No running, remember?”

“That double knot isn’t coming loose honey. Five minutes.” He gestures the minutes with his hand, the kind of grin on his face that threatens to make you fall in love.

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

The heat starts getting sticky, the breeze from before coming to a standstill making the plastic cup wet in your hand. The condensation drips down the bright yellow lemons that decorate it and onto your fingers but it feels good. You shift from side to side awkwardly next to the concession stand, people watching with the green bendy straw in your mouth. You’re closer to the school now, the sight of fair games in the shade of tents cooled down by giant fans catches your eye. The empty ring toss table calling your name.

That’s when you see him, an irrational anger settling in your gut at how he somehow looks even more attractive than he did ten minutes ago. You can tell the moment he spots you through the crowd, a giant smile stretching so wide across his face it threatens to compete with the sun and it's just for you.

“That was longer than five minutes, Steve,” you tsk when he reaches you, trying not to overthink the fact that he doesn’t have any sort of bag.

He chuckles, a little out of breath, giving into his impulse to run his fingers through his hair. The heat of the day finally ruining any product that was left in it.

“You just got one lemonade?” He points to the dripping cup in your hands with a smirk.

“Yeah, I realized that after I’d ordered, but could you imagine if I was left waiting here for ten minutes with two of these?!” You lift it up like it's heavy before narrowing your eyes playfully, “Why? Got a problem sharing with me or something?”

He lifts his sunglasses pushing them up to rest on top of his head, and they almost get lost in the thickness of his honey and pepper locks. The full force of the mossy green browns of his eyes make your thighs press.

“No, just wanted to make sure before I did this.” Leaning forward, his gaze stays focused on yours before his lips wrap around the straw. His adams apple bobs in his throat when he takes a long gulp, while beads of sweat collect and drip down the sides of his neck making you lick your lips.

“G-good?” You manage to ask when he pulls away wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“Delicious actually. Is that a hint of strawberry?” Steve asks with a widening grin, the pad of his thumbs swiping away some of the excess lipgloss he’d gotten off the straw. You rub your lips together subconsciously, the corners of them threatening to pull up when he puts his sunglasses back on.

“Strawberry and watermelon actually.”

The air between you grows thick with something that’s not the humidity, especially when you see the way more sweat glistens from the tease of soft curls on his chest. Was that a third button undone?

“I didn’t catch the watermelon, I’ll just have to get a better taste next time.” His ears catch your quick intake of breath. He could do it now, really taste you. The way your eyes keep dropping to his mouth tells him you want him to.

Stick to the plan.

He takes the cup that you have to hold with both hands into one, fingers wrapping around it with ease. Stealing your hand in his other, they intertwine like they missed each other. The cold condensation left on your palm from the lemonade cools the warmth of his heated skin from the sun and from you.

“Let’s go check out the games.”

“You know ring toss is a scam right?” Steve sighs, the two of you standing in front of the booth you’d eye’d from across the block.

“It’s not a scam, it’s a game of skill Steve.”

You give him his third eye roll of the day and it makes the corners of his lips curve despite giving you one in return.

“I thought you were Mr. Sports anyway, shouldn’t you be good at this? Don’t you work for the Cubs or something?” You copy his stance, taking note of how it gets him more irritated.

“Mr. Sports? I do marketing, I don’t play for the team,” he scoffs at the nickname, but the playfulness that fills your eyes is contagious and it’s enough to feed his soul for months. “I’m plenty good at this game, I just didn’t want you to get discouraged.”

“Me? Discouraged?” You give him a sarcastic laugh and it makes his cheeks push up. He can’t remember the last time he smiled like this.

“I’m just looking out for you, that’s all.” He shrugs, taking another sip of the lemonade so he doesn’t laugh at the face that gets you to make.

“You don’t have to look out for me, in fact I’m gonna raise the stakes Harrington.” He loves how you say his last name like you’ve known him for years, especially when you’re heated. “The loser has to buy funnel cake after this, or is that too much for you to handle?” You raise your eyebrows, in a challenge.

“It’s never too much for me to handle.” Steve makes sure to look you up and down, enjoying the way it makes you squirm before continuing, “And don’t worry I’m not really going to make you pay for the funnel cake after I beat you.”

He signals to the teenager on the other side of the table for two rounds, laughing at the way you scoff around giggles giving his shoulder a light shove.

———————————————————————

It takes about three throws for Steve to realize he’s going to eat his words when he watches the plastic ring bounce off the lip of the bottle again.

“Aww maybe the next one, champ.” you pout with a quick flick of your wrist, your fourth ring hitting the top of the bottle before spinning down the neck of it with a hollow hum just like the three before and it makes Steve’s jaw clench. “I like extra powdered sugar by the way.”

He grumbles something to himself grabbing his last ring, feeling the heat of your stare on him, he tries to ignore the way it makes all the blood rush to his cheeks and focus on at least making one. His eyes squint as he picks his target.

“Maybe you need those glasses that were on your desk?” You shrug nonchalantly, conveniently refusing to meet his incredulous gaze, a smirk playing the edges of your lips.

“I don’t need glasses - who are you? Where’s that sweet girl from next door, huh?” He can’t help but laugh when your smirk breaks out into a fit of giggles.

“I'm competitive when it comes to meaningless games, Steve. What can I say?” You sigh, your admission making him snort as he refocuses on the bottle again.

“Competitive but hates sports, makes total sense,” mumbling, he does a few practice throws not letting the ring go. He’s not expecting you to come up beside him so close that he can smell the perfume you sprayed this morning. He wants to bury his nose in your neck and inhale.

“Just bend your arm a little here, baby,” the teasing edge to your voice is gone, replaced with something sticky sweet like the lemonade he shared with you, like your strawberry and watermelon lip gloss. ‘Baby’ rings loud in his ears and needs to hear you say it again, he always wants to be your baby.

Your touch is gentle when you bend his elbow just slightly, soft fingers that feel electric.

“You settin’ me up?” Steve’s eyes meet yours, smile going lopsided when he catches you getting a little shy.

“I’m not! I promise.” You giggle again and he decides he’ll buy you as many funnel cakes as you want. “If you think you’re throwing it too soft, you’re not.”

You back away to let him make his move, he’s more concentrated than you’ve ever seen as he takes your advice to heart. His tongue pokes out as he lines himself up, silently counting to three before letting go. You hold back your squeal watching it catch on the top, spinning sloppily down the neck plastic clinking against the glass loudly.

“Wooo!” Steve’s hands shoot up the bottom of his shirt rising with it giving you a glimpse of his happy trail. Excitement radiating from his bright smile..

God you just want to kiss him.

“See, skill, not luck,” you tease.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He questions watching you make your fifth one without a second thought.

“I lived in a small town with nothing to do but stupid games like this.” You shrug, you hadn’t thought about home since moving here, a nostalgic pain hits your chest.

“You get to pick a prize,” the teenager cuts into your conversation, refusing to let Steve ask the questions that were obviously on the tip of his tongue.

He points to the grid wall behind him where everything from classic teddy bears, purple dragons, and dancing bananas are strung up in a pop of bright colors. Steve watches with admiration at the focus on your face as your eyes look over every option like it’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make in your life. Then you look up at him and ask-

“Which one do you think Bandit would like?”

Maybe his plan was stupid, maybe he should just say fuck it and kiss your right here.

“I think he’d really dig the banana, definitely his style.” Steve nods casually trying not to let it show that he thinks he’s already falling in love with you.

You beam at him before telling the kid your choice, excitedly grabbing it when it’s handed to you. Steve looks out to the sun starting to set burnt orange and pink in the sky telling himself he can hold out for at least another hour, maybe two. Maybe.

“You should have seen the woman’s face when I asked for more sugar,” Steve huffs, dropping the deep fried treat in front of you. The sweet powder puffs like smoke falling off the dough like snow landing onto the already formed piles that cover the bottom of the paper plate.

“She was just jealous,” you wave off, wiggling your fingers in excitement unsure of where to even start as he takes the seat next to you, knees bumping under the picnic table you’d found.

“Jealous of what? The dentist visit I’ll need to pay for after this?” Steve cocks an eyebrow, pulling off a piece regardless of his complaining. His sunglasses hang down the middle of his shirt again, the sun low enough for his eyes to come out of hiding, stealing some of the confidence you have when you don’t get distracted by them.

You roll your eyes for the fourth time and it starts making him feel spoiled, especially the way the corners of your mouth always give you away curving up the littlest bit after each one.

Ignoring his complaining you plop a piece into your mouth, the extra sugar sticks to your gloss and he really starts to hate his plan again when he watches your tongue dart out to lick it off.

“So what made you move here?” Steve asks, the curiosity from before coming back as he brushes some of the powder from another piece.

A small laugh escapes through your nose, your eyes meeting his from under your lashes before darting back to the dessert. You didn’t have an exciting or dramatic reason to give, not even a career path. The nerves of a different kind kick up in the fear of being perceived as a mess once he really gets to know you. It makes your palms sweat.

“I don’t know, New York always intimidated me,” you offer with a half smile, picking at the sides of the fried dough.

“Come on, tough girl.” Steve bumps his shoulder with yours, his cologne mixing with the day in a way that has you wanting to bottle it up for yourself.

You sigh, lips twitching in a grin before giving into him.

“It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do. Live in a big city.” You gesture around you before ripping off another bite. “My parents have never lived anywhere else their whole lives, so I promised myself that if I was still there when I was thirty, I’d do it. I’d pack up and move no matter what, and that’s exactly what I did.” You laugh, popping the small treat in your mouth.

“I don’t really have a plan? I don’t really know what I’m doing which is scary and exciting all at the same time,” you admit, avoiding his gaze hunting for another perfect bite and it just kinda feels like stress eating now.

“You sound like me.” Steve chuckles, and it makes you freeze, finally daring to look at him. The tan he got from the day was already starting to show, the laugh lines under his eyes a little more prominent from this close. The stubble that lines his jaw has a little more salt than pepper.

“Yeah?” You hate how quiet your voice sounds, blaming it on the way his thigh is pressed tight against yours.

“You think I wanted to get into sports marketing my whole life?” Steve snorts, “I”m from a small town in Indiana, I worked at an ice cream shop in a mall and a video rental store after high school. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or who I was.”

His hand reaches under the table, fingers wrapping around your knee to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“If it wasn’t for a drunk night with Eddie and my other best friend Robin after a shitty day at work,” He shrugs, picking at the dough, “telling me about this three bedroom apartment in Chicago they had found real cheap through some guy named Rick, who knows what I’d be doing now.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, letting the realization that the Steve you’d built up in your head wasn’t the man next to you. The man next to you was better. He was real. Hope blooms inside your chest that maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

“Well, that just made me like you even more. Great.” You fake annoyance but your shy smile gives you away.

“Oh yeah?” He flirts, wiggling his eyebrows at you leaning in closer, loving how he can hear the stutter in your breath every time.

“Well, maybe.”

“Maybe?” His question comes out soft, his nose bumping yours while his eyes linger on the sugar that collected on your already sweet lips.

You nod with a sigh, sticky gloss and fluttering lashes, big eyes that beg him. The hand on your knee comes up to cup your face, the tip of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down mesmerized by how it still shimmers after all this time.

Fuck the plan.

“Harrington? I thought that was you!”

Both of you jump, your hand nearly flipping the plate when an unsuspecting voice pops you two out of your bubble. Again. It takes everything inside Steve not to groan out loud, recognizing the man behind the interruption instantly. His boss.

“Richard?” Steve’s voice changes to the version you’d heard on the phone as he spins around in his seat giving you the perfect view of the way the linen stretches over his shoulders.

He was going to kiss you and now he’s talking to Richard.

Your eyes meet a much older man’s dark brown ones, he looks somewhere in his mid to late sixties, but the kind of late sixties that told you he had money. The thick white cotton of his t-shirt looks Egyptian, the light wash jeans look like the kind of denim that cost more than your rent. The hundred and fifty dollar leather Cole Haan sneakers on his feet make it seem dressed down despite the wing tip. Casual rich.

“I didn’t think you’d be here sir.” Steve chuckles nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, someone has to see where the money you convinced me to spend is going.” He smiles but it’s warm in spite of his playful jab.

“Besides, I’ve heard it’s you that doesn’t come to these things.” Richard’s eyes meet yours with a knowing sparkle behind them, “But I've got an idea why this year’s different.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks from the implications of his words and you try and bite back your own grin when you look down at the half eaten dessert.

“Well it’s always good to see you outside of the field Harrington, I think The ALS Foundation and the Chicago Parks District will be happy with their checks this year. Great job as always son,” he compliments proudly.

The two of them talk “shop” for a few minutes, but all you can focus on is the fact that Steve put this all together and it’s something he’s been doing for years. Channeling his grief into something good and it makes your heart swell.

“There’s an empty skybox with your name on it for next week’s game, bring your girl. It’ll be fun. I’ll let you two get back to it.” Richard’s voice gets louder with his departure breaking you out of your thoughts as he pats Steve on his shoulder, giving him a fatherly squeeze.

“Enjoy the fireworks.”

He throws you a wink before walking away taking your kiss from Steve with him.

The music thumps low in the distance when you two get to a part of the lake that isn’t a public beach. It’s a Marina but not one for just anybody, the docks are mostly empty but the boats that are there look expensive, definitely not rentals.

‘What are we doing Steve?” You whisper but it sounds more like a yell when he pulls out a keycard to open up the gate that stops you from going inside.

“My buddy has a boat, well it’s not here but his spot is, at the very end. We’d get a perfect view of Navy Pier and the fireworks. No people.” He opens the gate with a loud creak, his hand extending out for you to take. “Jus’ me and you.”

The skyline shines behind him, the wind catching in his unruly hair with the kind of smile you’d be insane to say no to.

So you don’t.

You slide your hand into his without any hesitation, like it’s meant to be there, watching the way it disappears in his grasp.

“That’s my girl.”

The dock bobs in the small waves under your feet as he leads you out to the empty spot all the way at the end. The lake looks black, endless with the other side nowhere in sight. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was the ocean. You’re almost scared when you get to the end and all you can see is the white tops of the water breaking against the rocks.

The faint sounds of voices from the crowds at the pier catch in the wind, the long tourist attraction shining bright not that far from you. The ferris wheel towers above the lake, the glass enclosures catching the lights from the city while its own twinkles against the stars in the clear sky.

“Steve, this is gorgeous.” You don’t know where to look, the man or the city.

He grins like he’s proud of himself, letting your hand go to lay the blanket down. Your eyes take in the view again while he gets situated, and you try to picture what it’s going to look like in a few minutes with all the colors in the sky.

“Baby,” the pet name comes out easy for him when he uses it to get your attention, like it’s what he should’ve been calling you all along. He likes the smile he gets when he says it too.

Both his hands reach out for you to take, helping you down to sit in the space between his legs. His knees lift up when you sit, while his arms wrap around your waist to pull you close. With your back to his chest, he rests his chin on your shoulder, his stubble tickling your neck when the tip of his nose runs along your jaw inhaling the powdered sugar and strawberry that still lingers on your skin.

“God, I’ve wanted you this close all day,” he confesses like it's a secret he’s exhausted from keeping.

“Yeah?” You whisper, tilting your head to give him better access while his lips ghost against the shell of your ear, feeling the way they curve into a smile.

“You have no idea, beautiful girl.” He presses a soft kiss on your temple, the tips of his fingers exploring your rib cage and you wonder if he can feel the butterflies.

His lips drag to the apple of your cheek where he leaves another one before he pulls away, the music getting louder from the pier signaling the start of the show.

“Thank you for today.” You turn your head to look at him because you already miss him.

He tilts his chin down to meet your eyes over the slope of his nose, his knees going flat on the ground while his hand comes up to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb tracing the high bone of your cheek while he holds your gaze. He doesn’t care if he misses the fireworks.

“Really, I should thank you for everything you’ve done since I moved here,” you keep going with a low voice, the water lapping against the dock underneath you creating the kind of peace you don’t want to disturb.

The tip of his nose bumps against yours, quick breaths meeting in the middle. All he’d have to do is tilt his head.

“Honey, you saved me.” Steve’s brows furrow when he presses his forehead against yours.

The sting is happy when you smile at him through glassy eyes, tilting your chin up just enough for your lips to brush.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Color flashes bright in the inky sky, it lights up Steve’s face in red’s and blue’s that sparkle against the jade and chestnut in his eyes. This time the interruption isn’t one that can stop him, closing the space he finally gets to do what he’s wanted to do since that night in his kitchen.

He’s gentle at first, his top lip brushing against your bottom and he loves the way it makes you sigh, giving into him the moment they finally connect. You turn in his lap, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck to pull him closer already needing more, your fingers curl in the soft hair at the base of it, greedy. Colors explode behind your eyes rivaling the ones above you when he dares to lick at your bottom lip, the firework display just the background to the main event when you let him in.

It’s lemonade and mint when his tongue massages slow against yours, his thumb tugging at your chin to open you up more for him. He kisses you like he’s sure of himself, taking his time so he can savor every moment of it like he could do this all night if you’d let him. He would too. The summer of unspoken words and miscommunicated feelings disappear when your lips move with the kind of desperation that comes with letting go. Giving into everything you both tried to fight while your tongues battle for dominance.

It’s too much but not enough all at once, the longer his lips move against yours it’s like they're never meant to be apart, like he didn’t know how he went this long without them.

The fireworks get louder above you signaling that you’re near the end of the show and you wish you had more time, especially when he starts kissing down your neck when he needs to catch his breath. Wet and sloppy, his lips make a sticky mess from all the gloss he collected from you, the watermelon he didn’t get to taste before making itself known. Sugary sweet like the girl in his lap.

“I know it’s super lame to ask for a second date while on the first one, but that baseball game is next week if you want to go?” He finally speaks, breaking the silence, nudging his nose against yours when he finally stops his assault on your neck, swollen and pink, his lips shine with the evidence of you.

“Only if you teach me the rules, or I’ll have no idea who to yell angrily at if you don’t.” You grin, nuzzling into his neck.

“Deal.”

His chest shakes with laughter, while a hand smooths down your back pulling you even closer to him. The smoke from the fireworks still lingers in white wisps in the air. The lapping of the water falling in time with your breathing, while you and Steve enjoy the quiet, letting the crowds go home before you try and make your way back. It’s a night of hushed words, shared secrets, and stolen kisses.

He walks you home at half past midnight, kissing you till you’re dizzy against your door with a promise of a text in the morning. He stops halfway down the stairs before jogging back up to kiss you again, this one a little tender with a whispered “Sweet dreams tough girl.” attached to it.

You don't need to wish for sweet dreams anymore, not when you have Steve.

———————————————————————

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

#my wriitng #all i really want it you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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ruskaroma · 1 year

Text

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Text

Little Secret

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: jake sully x na’vi reader x lo’ak sully

Warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, profanity, dub-con(?), heat cycle, dark/mr.stealyourgirl Jake, poor clueless Lo’ak, fingering, ab riding, oral sex (f receiving), infidelity, p in v

Word Count: 4.6k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I had to make it fair, you know, since Jake stole Neteyam’s mate. I’m just in my dark era, guys I’m sorry. Also, @jakexneytiri practically wrote this. This is for you, bestie. I love you and your big, juicy, sexy brain, I just wanna give it a big smooch.

Synopsis: Lo’ak is away on a two-day hunting trip, and you unexpectedly go into heat. Good thing the Olo’eyktan finds you before anyone else does.

“Are you sure? I can stay back.” Lo’ak breaks the kiss, cupping your cheek.

“Yes, Lo’. My heat won’t come for a few more days.” you smile softly, hands resting on his chest.

Just a few more eclipses and your heat would be here. As much as you wanted your mate to stay with you, you knew it was important that he goes on this two-day hunting trip. Supplies were low and he was one of the few warriors in the clan equipped to travel far distances. You nudge him towards the door, but he stands firm, resisting your pushes.

“My love.” He rests his hands over yours, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Ma’ Lo’ak.” you say, eyes of innocence peering up into his.

“I can smell you.” he growls, briefly holding his breath to savour your faint scent.

His four words send shivers down your spine, hot breath prickling your skin. You could already feel your body’s arousal as the blood rushes to your cheeks, staining them a tinge of pink. You nibble on your bottom lip, chest tightening from the lustful eyes that bore into yours.

“Then you better hurry up and come back, alright?” you kiss him quickly and nudge him with shaky hands once more.

“So eager to get rid of me, huh? What? Have another na’vi coming to see you once I’m gone?” he chuckles, slowly retreating to the makeshift door.

“You know I don’t like when you make those jokes, Lo’ak.” you chide, offended that he thinks you’d do such a thing.

“Yeah, yeah. And what if I didn’t have anything against it?” he mumbles as you shove his shoulder, spinning him around to face the door. “Just as long as I get to remind you who’s really owns you after.”

Your tongue clicks in frustration. “Go, before the hunting party leaves you. Again.” you huff, giving him a final shove out the door.

----

Rousing from your deep slumber, you find that the dryness in your eyes makes it difficult to open them. You groan, not feeling nearly as rested as you should after such a long nap. The grogginess is so overwhelming that your eyelids feel like two bags of sand, weighing heavily on your face. Lethargy so potent it slumps you into a torpor trance, ebbing away whatever consciousness you have remaining.

Just like that, you fall into yet another cycle of sleep.

A few more hours pass, the eclipse now in full bloom. A familiar dopiness washes over you, lips cracked and dry from hours and hours of no hydration. You attempt to swallow, only for you to struggle to gather any spit to wad together. That’s when another familiar sensation quickly sets in. One where your body heats up from the inside out, starting at the core of your being, radiating to your extremities. Accompanied by intense dizziness, you could barely piece together a coherent thought. Screams echo in your head, demanding for ‘water, water, water’. You try to shuffle to your feet, only for them to give out, causing you to tumble back onto the mat beneath you.

Sitting in an utter state of bewilderment, you force open your unfocused eyes, trying your best to scan your tent with blurred vision. “Lo’ak?” you croak out a dry throat, only to remember that he’s not here. “Ah. Right...” you think aloud, using the back of your hand to feel your forehead. “’s so hot.” you mumble to yourself, giving your forehead a quick swipe, beads of sweat now dripping down your forearm.

Do I have a fever? I don’t feel good.

A heaviness takes over your body, limbs growing weightier by the second. Soon you’re lying on your back, trying your best to wriggle out of whatever flimsy cloth you have plastered onto your skin. The knot on your loincloth is so tight, your fingers fumble around trying to untie it. Frustration brews deep in your chest, overflowing with nowhere else to go but up and out your throat in a loud grunt.

With sweat dripping in your eyes, you practically go blind – double vision now setting in. “Fuck.” you cry out, giving up on trying to untie the knot and just going for the easier route – pulling it down your legs. You hook your fingers under the band of your garments, pulling and tugging it to the best of your abilities. But your attempts prove to be futile, thanks to the heaviness of your body, you’re only able to get it about halfway down.

At this rate you’re panting and squirming around trying to get these soaked things off your hot body. You huff loudly, frustration only growing stronger by the second. Quickly moving up to your top, you slip it down your chest, exposing your breasts. A cool, refreshing breeze wafts through the flap of your tent, hardening your nipples into peaks. Eywa, did that feel good.

Your entire body prickles in fervour, heating up to a dangerous degree. You could no longer deny the way you feel – your arousal. The slick seeping from your folds is evidence of it. It coats your thighs the more you rub them together, making a mess on not only yourself but the woven mat beneath you. With your loincloth around your knees, you find it difficult to spread your legs. All you can manage to do is shove your shaky hand between your thighs to try and bring some sort of relief to yourself.

It's like an itch. An itch so deep that you can’t scratch it, no matter how hard you try – no matter how many fingers you use. Your digits fondle with your sensitive clit, doing their upmost best to establish some sort of rhythm in their strokes. The frustration boiling in your chest doesn’t help, it only makes it more difficult to do it properly – to make yourself cum. Your breaths turn raggedy, volume increasing with each swipe of your clit.

The pressure in your chest is immense. It’s like you’re about to implode if you don’t release the tension. Drool dribbling down your cheek, you curl into a ball for better access to your slit. All three fingers eagerly part your folds, prodding at your hole. You bundle them together, shifting your pelvis forward to sink them inside you.

“Ohh!” you let loose a loud, sudden moan, finally feeling some of the pressure release. With no strength to work your fingers, you lazily hump your hand, sliding them in and out of your cunt. You can’t help but let your heavy-lidded eyes close, allowing you to focus on the sensation budding in your womb. It feels so empty – so hollow. You just need to be stuffed to the brim and filled up.

All you can think about is your mate. The two braids that hang freely in front of his face, his brawny stature, his big hands, and lengthy fingers. The things you’d do to have them inside you right now, furling right into your g-spot, satiating that annoying itch deep inside you. Just the mere thought of it quickly turns your ragged breaths into lengthy whines and whimpers as you try to imitate your mate’s touches.

----

Jake dismounts his beast, stroking its tough exterior in efforts to calm him. He had just come back from a stressful meeting about the sky people and their upcoming agenda. With their return, things have become arduous; hunting parties have been targeted on a regular basis, making it difficult to hunt in familiar, well-known areas. Therefore, the stronger, more equipped warriors have been venturing farther out to hunt, typically for a few days at a time, leaving the clan under the protection of Olo’eyktan.

Making quick strides towards the tents, he overhears high-pitched noises. Ears perking up, his head turns to the source of the whimpering and whining. If anyone is in any sort of trouble, it is his duty as Olo’eyktan to help. He follows the noises, only to be led to his son’s tent. Three na’vi men surround the hut, all facing one another, seeing who will back down first. “Men.” the Olo’eyktan speaks, breaking the tension. Their heads snap towards Jake, acknowledging his presence by signing ‘I see you’. “What’s going on here?” Jake asks, hands resting on his hips.

“Someone has left their mate in heat, sir.” one of the men responds.

Jake’s heart skips a beat. If this is his son’s tent, then surely the na’vi in heat is...you.

Seeing these three men linger around you triggers his possessive instincts, or perhaps it was your pheromones wafting past his nose. Either way, he didn’t like the crowd around your tent. “Erm.” he clears his throat, “I will take it from here.” he mutters. The men hesitate to leave, all looking at one another like a new challenger has arrived. “Dismissed!” Jake shouts, startling the men.

“Yes, sir.” they say in unison, bowing their heads and retreating.

----

“Y/n?” Jake’s faint voice is muffled by your lengthy mewls and squelching noises you’re working out of your cunt. “Ah, shit.” he curses, hand flying up to cover his nose. “Y/n.” he calls out once more, approaching your trembling body with caution. “You in heat, sweetheart?”

“L-lo’ak? Is that y-you?” you pant, seeing a blurry tall figure approach you – eyelids too heavy to open fully. “I-I can’t take this anymore. I can’t – I can’t do it. ‘ts too much. too much. too much.” your teeth chatter as the words dislodge from your dry throat. “P-please. I-I... hah... ah - need help. Please. Please. Please.”, you desperately hump your slick coated hand. “Ngh - need... ugh – need w-water, lo’, please.”

Jake clicks his tongue at the sight of you squirming around with your loincloth halfway down your legs, trying to bring relief to yourself. “How long have you been like this, baby girl? Where is that boy? Hm?” he coos, fetching a cup of water.

He kneels beside you, feeling your sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re burnin’ up, look at ya. That boy leaving you in heat alone.” he mutters, shaking his head in disappointment. “C’mere, drink for me.” he hoists you into his lap, your fingers still hooked inside you as you nuzzle into him.

He perches your head in the dip of his arm and brings the cup to your chapped lips, watching you eagerly lap up the water. It feels so good, so refreshing – like putting ice on a burn. “M-more Lo’ak.” you mumble, clawing at the wrist holding the cup to your mouth, trying to tip more out of it.

“It’s not Lo’ak, baby girl. It’s Jake.” Jake speaks gently, pulling his hand from your grasp to get more water for you.

Jake? The – the Olo’eyktan? Oh Eywa.

“Here.” he tilts the cup to your lips once more, watching you quench your undying thirst. “Atta girl, y’must be hungry too.” he puts down the cup, “What do you need, hm?” he coos, swiping away the stands of hair stuck to your face.

“N-need. Need.” you blubber, hips spasming uncontrollably against your hand. “I-I need, m-my mate. Need. Ne – ngh! S-sir, ‘m so – oh! s-sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re okay. ‘m gonna call for him now.” He presses the microphone on his throat comm, paging for his son.

“Boy. You really left your mate in heat? Get your ass here. Now.” He whispers harshly, lips curling over his teeth.

“She’s – what? Shit. Yes sir. Coming now.” Lo’ak responds.

Jake huffs out a sigh, eyes drawn to your sticky hand working at your pussy. He watches you struggle a little, fingers barely halfway inside you, covered in a glossy layer of slick. He could tell that the cloth binding your legs together is only making it more difficult for you to fuck yourself. Call it pity, or just plain corruption, but he wanted to help you so, so badly.

“Just gonna help you take this off, alright?” he hums, fiddling with the taut knot on your loincloth. Once the knot becomes undone, your legs snap open, aphrodisiac scent filling the tent. He couldn’t help himself, he had to look – to look at the soft flesh between your legs. It’s obvious his body is succumbing to the influence of your heat, warming up alongside you as you plunge your fingers deeper into yourself.

Meanwhile, you can’t help but whine and whimper, squirming around in his lap as you try to find a better position to hump at your hand. The frustration in your chest has budded into something else completely, something that’s making you feel feverish in your head. All you could think about was your desire, no– your need to be stuffed. You just needed to scratch that maddening itch, to put out that menacing flame.

Your fingers feel so raw and rubbed out, yet so numb at the same time. But you simply couldn’t bring yourself to take them out of you, to allow for the empty sensation to creep back in. Blood now simmering under your skin, you needed him to help you. Your free hand reaches out for his wrist, using it as leverage to place his hand onto your clammy chest. It snaps his gaze up to yours, searching your delirious, watery eyes.

“Hey, hey. No need to cry, alright? Try use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what ya need and I’ll get it for you.” he coos, face screwed with concern.

“Need – need help. Need help.” you repeat franticly, tugging his stiff hand down to your stomach. “’s not enough!” you blurt out, frustrated that he’s resisting your tugs.

“y’not yourself, y/n.” he even struggles to say the words, brows gathering to wrinkle his forehead. “’m not your mate, sweetheart.”

“Please.” you let out a pained whine, ignoring his warning as you tug even harder at his hand. “It – it hurts, sir.”

He grimaces at your vulnerable, carnal state. Blood rushes to his face, flushing his cheeks the more your pheromones smother him. He tries to hold his breath – his poor attempt to maintain his composure, but your scent is too potent now that you’re in the thick of your heat. Unable to deny his own arousal, evident in the tautness of his loincloth, he finds himself giving in, taking long, deep breathes to savour your sweet, sweet scent.

“God. You smell so fuckin’ good.” Succumbing to the influence of your heat, he yields to your little tugs, allowing his hand to slowly slide down to your stomach.

“Sir. Sir, please. I-I can’t take it... anymore” you hiccup, fingernails digging into his skin. “I-I need... ngh... haah.” you struggle with your words, allowing for your tugs to speak on your behalf.

“Say it.” he growls, slipping his hand down your sticky pelvis, grasping your slender wrist. “Say it so I can help you, baby girl.” the eager words slip out just as his eyes meet yours, insisting you give your spoken consent first.

“I-I need them inside, sir... right here, please” you pant, spreading your trembling legs for him.

“Right here?” he utters innocently, gently pulling your fingers out of your cunt, exposing your slit.

“Yes! Yes sir! H-hurry, please. ‘m so, so empty. It – it hurts.” you whine loudly, hips bucking on their own.

“Shh. Shh. ‘m gonna help you now.” he hushes you, sliding his palm over your pussy. “But we keep this our little secret, yeah?”

“Y-yes sir!” you sob, rolling your hips against his hand, coating it with a thick layer of your slick.

“Call me Jake.” he breathes, sliding two fingers inside of you. “Shit. So tight. So wet. Jesus, you’re soaked. You’re really in heat, aren’t you?” he fingers you roughly, furling and unfurling his digits into your sweet spot, expertly working out sloppy, squelching noises from your cunt.

“Oh fuck – Jake!” a loud, needy moan splits your lips. Fuck, did it feel so good. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself this entire time, unable to reach this part of yourself with your own fingers. Not to mention the fact that Jake’s fingers are much, much thicker, and lengthier than yours. You couldn’t hold back the lewd noises evading your mouth.

“Yeah, right there? Look at you, making a mess on my fingers.” he chuckles, forearm becoming veiny from how roughly he’s fingering you. Your hips rolled against his hand, rubbing your clit against his callused palm as you chased your fast approaching climax. You yearned for it so badly that you allowed your body to take over for you, fucking his fingers as if it were his Lo’ak’s cock.

Oh, Lo’ak.

“i-is Lo’ak coming?” you barely get out, feeling your walls flutter around his fingers.

“Yeah, he’s coming, but I think you are too.” Jake smirks, feeling your heat spasm around his digits. “Go on, cum f’me.” Just like that, your sweet nectar coats his fingers, body convulsing uncontrollably in his lap as you release silent screams into the air. “Juust like that, good girl.” he hums, quickly pulling his fingers out of you to have his taste of you. “Jesus, you taste just how you smell.”

All you can feel is the ache of your womb, craving to be filled to the brim – the throb of your clit, begging to be stroked. Thick of your heat clouding your head, the emptiness creeps back in tenfold. Still having no control over your own body, you find yourself mounting Jake. Everything feels like a blur, hazy vision and dizziness take over, and before you know it you’ve knocked him onto his back.

“’m s-sorry” you hiccup, hips situating themselves on his stomach.

“Don’t be sorry. Do whatever you need, baby girl.” he reassures you, watching as your hands settle on his chest, supporting your heavy body as you grind into him.

At every rock, you coat his abs with your slick, and soon you were gliding back and forth on his stomach with ease. Each bump from his abs was hitting your clit just right, making you press yourself further onto him, pulsing clit desperate for the friction. “Want some help, sweetheart?” he asks, voice feigned with innocence.

You nod in a frantic manner, brows pinched as you hold your breath. He slides his hand up to grip your thigh, thumb lightly drawing tight circles into your clit. The little shocks shooting through your clit wind you, leaving you breathless. Your eyes slam shut, as you focus on the feeling budding in your womb once more and fuck, you just couldn’t stop the buck of your hips. Tiny, sweet mewls evade your lips as you grind into him once more. “Breathe f’me, y/n.”

Hearing the Olo’eyktan say your name in that way brings you back momentarily, eyes snapping open as a breath of air fills your lungs. “There you go. Don’t want you passin’ out on me.” he chuckles breathily, pressing his thumb into your clit a little harder. Jake’s eyes widen as he watches you leak all over him, slick dripping down the sides of his stomach. “Fuck. Gonna have to rehydrate you if you keep making a mess on me like that, sweet girl.”

“’m sorry, s-sir, mmn Jake.” you moan breathlessly, so, so close to cumming all over his stomach.

Jake hears a buzz of static in his right ear. “Dad? How is she? I’ll be there when the sun comes out.” Lo’ak chimes in through Jake’s earpiece.

“Need you to be quiet f’me, alright sweetheart?” he coos, edging you by slowing the pace of his strokes, only making you rock into him harder.

“She’s doing so well.” he praises you, voice bouncing with every thrust of your hips.

“Okay, dad. T-tell her I love her and that I’m sorry.” Lo’ak’s voice cracks.

“Alright, son. I will.” Jake utters under the trance of your heat, removing his hand from the microphone to place it on your other hip.

“Look at you, squirming around tryna make yourself cum. Want my help?” he asks, already manhandling your hips to yank you up to sit on his face. You look down through blurry vision as he situates his face between your thighs. His warm tongue feels so good that you can’t help but wiggle your hips down onto him, grinding into him. He takes every hump with fervour, lapping up whatever sweet nectar leaks into his mouth.

“S-top.” your breath hitches, word slipping out broken and hoarse. “m’gonna cum in your mm-mouth.” Jake squeezes your hips tighter and shoves your cunt further into his face, silently encouraging you to just do it already.

So, you do.

“Jake.” a little whimper parts your lips, “J-jake. ‘s c-coming.” your breath hitches, “Jake!” you cry out, feeling your walls clench around nothingness as the coil in your abdomen suddenly snaps in two. A pleased hum vibrates low in his chest as he follows each thrust of your hips, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face. Slumping over, you hold on to his hair, thighs closing around his face.

He couldn’t take it anymore. His cock throbbed so painfully in his loincloth he really felt like he was about to cum just from hearing you cry his name. The taut material was slick from his own arousal as precum oozed from his tip. He begins to thrust into the air, each squeeze of his hips rubbed his cock just right against his loincloth. He grunts into your cunt, hands sliding their way up your hips to your waist, using it as leverage to pull you off his face with a -pwah-. He gasps for air as he lies you flat on your back, positioning his covered crotch right at the swell of your ass.

All this rubbing just wasn’t enough, you needed something inside you – something to stuff you until you feel queasily full. But all you can think about is your Lo’ak. How you want his cock. How you wish the hardened bulge pressing firmly against your pussy lips was his, and not his fathers. But, oh fuck did his fathers cock feel so good, nestling itself between your plump folds. You just wanted him to fuck into you, right now. Your body wanted it more – it was evident in the way that your hips spasmed against him, trying their best to burrow this clothed bulge inside you.

“Whatcha doing, sweetheart? Tryna fuck me through my loincloth?” he chuckles, pushing back your legs until your knees brush against your flushed cheeks – exposing your glistening, soft pussy. “God. So fuckin’ pretty.” he swipes all four fingertips from your hole up to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves just right. “Hah. ‘m kinda jealous.” he admits, your heat heightening his territorial instincts.

Oddly, your body only seems to be growing hotter. It feels as if your skin is sizzling under his cool, sensual touches, making the tears stream down your face at a faster rate, “’s not enough... not enough... really – ugh! pleasee” you beg through a whine, not even knowing what for.

Jake knows. He knows exactly what you want – what you need. But he needs you to say the words first – to give him your permission to sink his cock inside you. And until you said those words, he’d continue to restrain himself from doing anything you didn’t outwardly beg for. He wraps your legs around his hips before wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“Oh, sweetheart. No need for those. Tell daddy what you need. C’mon, use your words.” he huffs, his own hips moving on their own accord – grinding into the softness of your pussy.

“Need you.” you pant, tugging at the band of his loincloth.

“Need me where, baby girl?”

“Inside! Need y-you inside me!” you blurt out, frustration so thick in your chest.

He didn’t even have the willpower to respond to you, as he finds himself franticly slipping down his loincloth just enough for his painfully hard cock to spring out, his tip swiping between your pussy lips before slapping against his belly. Holding the base of his length, he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Our little secret, right?”

“Yes” you pant, pelvis shifting to desperately sink down onto his length.

“Oh, fuck. So fuckin’ tight.” he groans lowly, head slumping forward the second his tip kisses your cervix. The more your walls clench around him, the more his restraint dissipates. His hips begin to move on their own, sticky pelvises languidly smacking into one another. Eyes glancing up to yours, he notices the sheer desperation in your eyes and quickly picks up the pace – fucking into you like an animal.

Your filthy moans catch in your throat, mouth agape as your brows gather. He’s so big, bigger than Lo’ak, touching parts of you that have never been touched before. It’s what you’ve been wanting, no – needing, to be stuffed like this, filled to the brim that you could feel it in your stomach. He angles his hips, jamming his swollen tip right into your swelling g-spot. It heavenly – so blissful that you could already feel that coil in your abdomen twist so tightly it’ll snap in two once more.

He can feel it too, the tightening of his core – the swift approach of his own climax. He ruts into you faster, focus shifting from your pleasure to his. He’s so overcome by the influence of your heat that the only thing echoing in his mind is to breed you. He just wants to flood your insides with his hot seed so badly, to mark you as his. It’s silly really, he had Neytiri in his tent waiting for his arrival, yet here he was thinking about knocking up his son’s mate.

“Want me to cum inside you? Get you pregnant, my little secret?” he pants heavily, thrusts becoming shorter yet deeper, and soon he’s grinding into your cunt, rubbing his pelvic bone against your clit.

“N-no, no. Don’t.” you mumble, yet your hips push back into his thrusts, trying to drill his cock into your womb so he could empty himself inside you.

“But your body is tellin’ me otherwise, baby girl.” he chuckles breathily, feeling your walls heat up around his cock. “You better cum before I do.” he huffs, giving your clit a single swipe – sending you over the edge. You gush all over his stomach, walls pulsating feverishly around his cock, doing their best to milk his seed into your womb as your body shudders underneath him.

You shake your head from side to side, haziness of your heat finally lifting from feeling so full. “Don’t c-cum in me, sir. Please” you hiccup, consciousness slipping away as he grinds into you.

“Jesus, fuck. You’re squeezin’ me just right. Gonna breed this little fucking pussy of yours. Make you mine.” he gives you a deep thrust, before barely pulling out of you in time to spill his warm seed all over your stomach. He rides out the last lap of his high in his hand as guttural, lengthy groans evade his lips. His head snaps up to see the sun’s rays shine through the cracks of the tent – Lo’ak would be here any minute.

He quickly fixes his loincloth before tying yours back around you. Going for a bucket of clean water and a cloth, he starts cleaning off your stomach. He tries to keep a straight face, pretending to cool you off with the cloth as he hears rustling behind him – the flap of the tent opening. He tries not the budge when he hears his son’s voice pierce the air.

“Thank you... for taking care of her, dad.” Lo’ak’s hushes his voice, realizing that you’re sleeping.

“It was no problem at all, she was a good girl. Handled it very well.” Jake mutters, plopping the cloth back into the water as he stands up. “I’ll leave ya to it, son.” he pats Lo’ak’s shoulder as he walks past him.

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sleepyhutcherson · 2 months

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batman!mike schmidt headcannons

part 2 | masterlist

pairing: batman!mike schmidt x gn!reader

tags: pervy!mike (watches you get undressed), jealousy, stalker, overprotective, spit kink, choking, being fucked from behind, inspired by pattinson’s batman — 18+, NSFW

author’s note: mike and pattinson’s bruce >> they are literally the same person (in some ways okay?) also i have smut blurb of batman!mike that i’ll probably post to end off my little batman!mike series <3

batman!mike who from the moment he sees you become utterly obsessed with you.

batman!mike first saw you when he was dealing with some men that were attempting to rob the diner you were working at. luckily, you weren’t at the register, but you were there. after dealing with them, his dark eyes met yours for a brief moment. he stared at you, eyes focused on you and you swore you saw a softness to the brown eyes before he left.

batman!mike who researches everything about you from that day on. of course, he goes home to research you in his cave, getting every ounce of information about you: i mean, he also needs your home address to watch over you, duh!

batman!mike who starts showing up outside the diner you’re working at just to…watch you…to make sure you’re not in any kind of danger.

batman!mike definitely keeps a diary but doesn’t write in it too frequently. but once he encounters you he starts writing in it more — you’re mainly what he writes about.

batman!mike is possessive. he’s not really aware of it, honestly. whenever he sees you on the phone or with someone laughing and smiling a little too much for his liking it ruins his day. like literally. he’ll sulk the rest of the day trying to find out who that person was that was making you laugh and smile so much.

batman!mike who sneaks into your place while you’re working just to look through your stuff. he feels a sense of guilt being in there without your consent…but he just wants to get to know you better! he wants to know what your interests are, what books you’re into, what you write about in your journal, how your room is decorated, etc.

batman!mike wears black eyeshadow (like battinson), it’s smudged and messy but it looks so good on him. his pretty brown eyes complimenting the makeup so well.

batman!mike who watches you undress from your window once you get home from work. it’s not a one time thing either. by now he has your bare body memorised.

batman!mike who huffs and groans while he’s fucking you.

batman!mike who likes to fuck you from behind with his hand gripping onto you hair as he thrusts into you roughly.

batman!mike who will force you to look at him as he fucks you from behind, you turn around and watch as he becomes a groaning mess behind you, he tells you to stick out your tongue out for him to spit in your mouth.

batman!mike who — despite literally showing up at your window to fuck you — will not show his face to you. not yet. meaning he leaves the mask on at first.

batman!mike who makes you suck his fingers. he needs you to coat them with your spit before inserting them inside of you.

batman!mike isn’t really submissive, you probably won’t hear him whine but on those more stressful nights you’ll hear him whimper while he’s burying himself deeper inside of you, his hands wrapped around your neck.

batman!mike who will jerk off to something of yours if he isn’t able to go see you. like it can be anything: underwear, a bracelet of yours — anything.

batman!mike who will stay up late to rewatch playbacks of his day that he recorded through his contacts lenses just to see you. over and over. sometimes he’ll jerk off while he watches.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka — love you guys xx

also idk if it’s just me but i cant tag certain of you that asked to be tagged :( im sorry, if anyone knows why let me know please <3

#batman!mike schmidt #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson fluff #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt angst

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jiminscockr1ng · 3 months

Text

✩｡°𝄞🚨D-TOWN BABY 𝄞✨°｡✩

╝ •part one | part two ╔

╰₊𓂂➢ pairing: gang affiliated!yoongi x fem!reader

╰₊𓂂➢ genre: hood au, bother’s best friend au, smut, angst

╰₊𓂂➢ warn!ngs: use of the n-word, aave, [mentions of drugs, drug dealing, death, smoking and drinking], negligence due to use of drugs (reader’s mother), reader is heavily black coded, cat-calling, riding, oral (reader receiving), swallowing semen. (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊𓂂➢ summary: yoongi is apart of a gang called d-town, the gang your brother just so happens to be apart of.

╰₊𓂂➢ word count: 5,625 words

╰₊𓂂➢ author’s note: the inspiration came from me shouting “D-TOWN NIGGA!” at my sister while watching the Daechwita music video. lmao, i hope y’all enjoy it.

The headlights of your black honda civic shines on the group of men huddled together on the steps of the project building.

Smoking, drinking, talking and laughing loud as hell, and hitting licks.

You huff while turning your car off. Stepping out, your long, fern green skirt flows with the wind. Cleavage hanging out of your bohemian patterned shirt. As you approach the ran down project building you can hear the men on the stairs whistling at you.

You roll your eyes at the gang members who are shouting and cat-calling loud as hell— the whole block could hear.

“Damn Ma, can I get a 360?!” One of them call out. Before you could even flip him off, two familiar voices chime in.

“Chill, nigga.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They say at the same time. The two voices could easily be distinguished as Trey (your brother) and Yoongi (your brother’s best friend).

Or their street names: Tre D and Agust D. The ‘D’ standing for D-Town. To which you find corny as hell because you all literally live downtown. All these corny ass niggas’ names end with D.

Once you’re right in front of the group of men your brother nods his head at you. That’s just him acknowledging your existence. The two of you have a complicated relationship. It’s only complicated because you don’t like his lifestyle (respectfully) but he won’t stop gang banging.

Nonetheless, you’d still take a bullet for that man. Vice versa.

“Yo, _______.” Yoongi speaks. From the looks of it, you can already tell he’s about to say some stupid shit. He has that sorry ass smirk on his face and keeps glancing around at his little posse. Leaning your weight on to one leg, you simply arch your brow at him.

“You gon’ let me tuck you in?” Your stoic expression remains the same. A few giggles are heard and your brother shakes his head. Trey is more than used to Yoongi making advances at you— he’s been fiend out for damn there 8 years.

Yoongi looks you up and down, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. You smack your teeth and harshly brush past the men blocking your way up the stairs. Prior to entering the building you yell back at the long haired, pale man.

“Tuck your dick!”

SLAM! You slam the door shut, you can hear the distant instigating behind the door as you walk up the stairs to the shared apartment. Mumbling curse words on your way up.

Yoongi’s smirk never leaves, despite the instigation his crew nagged on about. He likes that shit. He loves it. Your hot temper and all of it. He knows that if he wanted to he could shut you right up. But you being mad at him kind of turns him on… so he’ll let you have it.

You’d prefer a nice and quiet, empty pathway to your home when you get off from work. You go through enough stress as it is. Another headache is exactly not what you needed.

Stepping foot into the dark apartment, you set your purse down and walk to your room, ready to get in the shower after a long day. The apartment is fairly big compared to the other units. More than enough space for you and your brother. Although, for the past year it’s really just been you occupying the space.

Trey is never home. He’s out and about being Tre D. He stopped coming home about a little over a year ago. It’s just gang related activities after the other, selling drugs, hanging out with D-Town and fucking random girls. Repeat.

It’s reasonable that you gave up on trying to stop him. He’s a grown man now and you can’t sit around all day to inspect your little brother’s everyday life to make sure he’s doing ‘the right thing’. He’s only 2 years younger than you but you always acted as a mother figure. Taking over that role after your mother got sprung out on crack and left you both.

Working your ass off everyday, feeding him and yourself, trying to make sure he’s doing well in school— all a waste of time. Now look. He’s outside of your shared apartment, probably not even going to come up stairs and is making way more money than you.

You regret the day he met those guys. And you regret even more when he dragged Yoongi along with him.

The thought of Yoongi makes you sigh. You pick up your towel to get in the shower, blasting Lauryn Hill as you lather your brown skin with smell-good soap. You manage to decompress in the shower. Tracking wet footprints to your bedroom as you approach the window, you look outside to see if they’re still there.

Yes. Yes they are. Your brother seems to be leaving and you can’t help but notice someone is missing from the gang.

And almost on queue— as if the devil himself set it up… you hear the front door opening. Letting out a groan, you go and peak out of your bedroom door.

“No need to hide, babygirl. Come on out.” Yoongi calls.

You roll your eyes before slamming your door. But like you figured, the door opens right back up and in comes Yoongi. He silently stands in front of the door after he closes it behind him, observing your figure that is semi-hidden behind the white towel you have on. Yoongi already has a little stiffy just by looking at you.

“Stop calling me babygirl you freak, I’m older than you.” You say, responding to the comment he made. He chuckles, walking over to sit on your bed while you apply lotion on your legs. He drops his duffel bag on the ground next to him.

“Yeah, by like a few months.” Looking down at him, you noticed that he’s man spreading, leaning on his arms that are propped up behind him on the bed. Refraining from gulping, you look away.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you continue on with your nightly routine, pretending that the fine man is not sitting on your bed ready to pounce on you the second you say go. You can hear shuffling behind you as you fix your locs, putting them in the ponytail.

“_______, I got you something.” He says and you reluctantly turn around. This man really doesn’t learn or care to catch a hint. In his hand is a book. A book that you’ve been searching for everywhere and is sold out.

“How…” is all you can mutter out. Out of all of Yoongi’s highly prestigious and unusual gifts he attempts to give you, this has got to be the best one yet. Best, because you actually wanted it. Not that that Birkin Bag was easy to donate— that was a struggle.

“Uh— I saw you were looking for this shit everywhere on your spam.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why the hell are you on my spam page?!”

“So I had drove damn there 2 fucking hours to get this shit.” He says, ignoring the previous question.

You love it. You want to snatch the book out of his long slender fingers, throw your bonnet on and start reading immediately. But—

“I can’t take that Yoongi.” The sentence isn’t something that he hasn’t heard before. You tell him every single time he comes up to your apartment trying to hand you something he bought for you. You never take shit from him and if you do, it gets donated almost immediately.

He scoffs. Honestly looking a little pissed off— fed up to be exact. “What do you mean you can’t take it? Didn’t you hear me, _______?” He stands up, book still in hand. “I drove 2 hours for a fucking book!” He exclaims.

It’s not like you’re meaning to be a bitch. You’d just rather not take anything that was bought with drug money. Even the book you’ve been dying to read for months.

“Listen Yoongi—”

“Agust D.” He corrects.

“I’m not calling you that shit!” A smile cracks onto his face. Just a small one. Because, as mentioned before, he loves that shit. But he’s still fed up.

“I can’t take that. It’ll be donated just like the other gifts you attempt to bribe me with.” You say and he sets the book on the bed, stepping closer to you. “I’m not bribing you _______. I just wanna spoil you, just let me do that.”

“No! I don’t want anything you or my brother buy with your fucking D-Town money. You can keep all of that shit!” You roar while waving your arms around. He sighs, running his fingers through his long black hair, letting it fall back in place. “Money is money, _______.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Yoongi.” Arguing with him back and forth is like arguing with a wall. You two could go on and on about the lifestyle he and Trey are choosing to live.

Yoongi walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don’t pull away. Despite how stubborn you are, you’d never deny Yoongi’s touch whenever you feel him. It’s instant stress relief.

“I’m trying, _______.” He calmly says in your ear. The disembodied voice— so husky yet smooth. It sends shivers down your back and all of the hair on your arms stand tall.

“Try harder then.”

“Why are you like this?” You scrunch your face up. “Like what?!” You can feel him shrug his shoulders behind you.

“Like… stubborn and petty.” Offended, you scoff.

“Stubborn and petty like your mama?” It was a quick little insult— a joke! Everyone says it. Plus, you had to think of a come back quick or else you know Yoongi would’ve known that you knew what he said was partially accurate. But when you feel the tight hold Yoongi had around your waist loosen… you knew you fucked up.

“You know my moms’ is dead.” You immediately twist your body around to face him, your towel nearly unraveling. You quickly catch it. “Omg, I did not mean it like that, for real. I was just saying shit!” You ramble on and on about how you don’t think before speaking and how sorry you are.

Then he laughs. Like actually laugh. Not a corny little smirk or the low chuckle he does when he’s around his boys— not even a light smile. He gave you his infamous, gummy smile, shoulder bouncing laugh. He even threw his head back for a second.

You really couldn’t help but smile. You missed that laugh. Having been reunited with it after so long makes you forget everything said and done. Because that’s the Yoongi you know, the Yoongi you grew up with, the Yoongi you loved. You smile at the taller man still looking at you with that cute gummy smile even after the laughter died down.

“Stop apologizing _______, I was just fucking with you.” You scoff but the smile never fades, even when you playfully punch his shoulder. “That’s not funny!” He nods his head in agreement as if he wasn’t just literally laughing his ass off.

“It was just funny seeing you speak like that. First time in mad long you didn’t have that stick that you love so much up your ass.” Looking up at him, you can’t even be mad at what he just said. Not when all the old feelings were suddenly rushing back in. The ones you fought off years ago.

“Yeah,” you switch your focus onto the ground. “It was nice seeing you laugh like that.” His fingers lightly grip your chin to lift your head back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart is doing backflips but in your head there are a million different alarms going off, screaming ‘abort!’.

“You always make me laugh. Whether I’m laughing around you or at home in my bed, laughing about something that you said. You make me…” He trails off making you furrow your eyebrows a bit.

“Make you what?” He sighs, scratching the back of his head, looking out of the window. You shove his shoulder to get his attention again. “Make you what?!” He looks down at his shoes as if the answer was written on them. They weren’t. You checked.

“You make me… hmmph.” He mumbles and you slap your hands on your naked thighs in frustration. You grip his face in your whole hand to get him to stop looking around the room helplessly, like a mother trying to force feed their child.

“What!” You scream.

“Happy!” He reciprocates the volume, eyes going wide when he finally lets the shit flow free. Your hand slowly drops from his face. “Damn— satisfied?” He sassily asks, rolling his eyes. Too in shock to even say anything, you just stand there with your eyebrows high, looking like a dumbass.

“_______,” he starts, earning you attention. So many thoughts sprint through your mind as you stare up into his sharp brown eyes. It’s really hard to believe that after everything, he still found happiness in you. You can’t recall the last time you felt happy in Yoongi’s presence. The man that you once loved. You and Yoongi never dated, never slept together, never really announced any feelings for each other either. The relationship the two of you had was unspoken. You knew the love was there— he did too, and that was enough.

“I need you to know, that I want you.” He says seriously. Your heart drops at the words. No.

No, not now. Why now?

“I want us, _______.” You could melt underneath his gaze. You feel yourself slowly folding. Ready to submit and give into him— give into your heart that’s been begging to be his for 7 years now. “Tell me you want this too.”

Yes, tell him you want this. Want all of him. Because you do… but you can’t. It’s not the same. This is not the same as it was 7 years ago. Yoongi isn’t the same. You can’t do it.

“I can’t— I don’t… want this.” You try to stand strong but you’re weak. Yoongi always did that to you. “You don’t or you can’t— which one is it?” He says, already knowing the answer. He needs to hear it from you though. You sigh, closing your eyes. “Yoongi—”

“No _______ tell me right now why you can’t just let us be happy?” Yoongi’s frustration is valid. But so is yours. You try to walk away from him, to get away, like those alarms that kept going off in your head a few minutes ago told you to do. But Yoongi isn’t having it. He already laid his heart out there, he just wanted you to take it— for it to be yours. So he grabs your arm. “Don’t walk away from me.” You yank your arm back immediately.

“I fucking can’t Yoongi! You want me to stand here, laugh, ‘kee-kee’ in your face. Tell you I want you and that I want this just for you to go back to the streets the next second someone calls you.” You’re out of breath from all of the screaming, no doubt the neighbors were gonna report. But you aren’t done.

“D-Town tells you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get your life together, to get off of the streets and I’m left with the same answer. I’m not gonna be one of those bitches that hold you down when you decide to get into some dumb shit and I’m damn sure not gonna be the person people have to get in touch with because their fucking boyfriend died doing some fuck shit.” The undertone of your face is red and your hands are shaking. “It’s bad enough my brother is in to deep. I’m not trying to have to worry about someone else.”

Yoongi’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes in everything you said. You’ve never been this vulnerable. With anyone. You’ve never said any of this to anyone but you don’t want to keep having the same interactions over and over with him.

“I understand.” Is all he says. And it’s all he has to say. You know he’s not gonna quit the streets until the streets quit him. After all, that’s how it works. But he really did understand and if that’s how you feel he won’t push it.

“Can I just lay with you?” Before you can even protest he raises his hands to clarify. “Just for tonight. Can you please… just do this for me? Let me lay with you.” You sigh, over analyzing the possibility. In the end you conclude it was fine. So you grab your pajamas and change in the bathroom. When you come back in, Yoongi is already laying in the bed. Shirtless and wearing nothing else but the pair of basketball shorts he had in his bag. The book resting on your nightstand.

Your pajamas includes a sage green tank top and a beige pair of cotton shorts. You lie next to him in your bed after cutting the lights off. His body instantly cuddles into yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out. “Your head is on my boobs.” He chuckles into the pair before raising his head to look at you. “You used to always let me lay on your boobs. They’re comfortable.” He says with a faint pout, poking your plushy boobs with his finger, making you flinch.

“Yoo— will you stop poking me!” You say frustratedly. “It tickles.” Yoongi perks up at that. “It tickles, huh?” He sings, continuing to poke you. His fingers pokes at your chest, your sides, your neck. You try to fight him off but your laughter is making you weak. “Stu— stop!” You cry out and he just giggles at your plea. It’s really over once he hovers his body over yours, locking yours in place underneath him.

Your face hurts from laughing so hard, can’t even manage to fight it anymore. The poking eventually stops but the soft giggles and toothy smile on your face doesn’t falter. Yoongi’s eyes sparkle as they bore into yours. He carefully places his hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your lifted cheekbone.

“You’re so pretty, _______.” He observes your features from above and his heart pounds against his chest. The pace aligned with yours. “Sometimes,” he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I forget just how pretty you are. So I come to bother you— just to see you. But when I have you this close… you make me want to leave everything else behind just so I can be with you.”

That’s all you really wanted. For Yoongi to leave all the bullshit alone. Maybe then you two could work.

But you know that all of this is just pillow talk. Yoongi would never do that. Not for you. Not for anyone. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Yoongi.” You speak mellowly. He lifts his head out of your neck to look at you again. “I can’t tell you how I feel now?” You roll your eyes. “You can but don’t sit here and lead me on to believing in a lie.”

He doesn’t respond. You feel his lips on your cheek. Eyes widening, you look at him in confusion. “What are you—”

“I’m not lying to you, _______.” He kisses your forehead. “Even with everything that happened, no matter what you say to me— I never told you a lie and I don’t plan to.” He leans in to give you another kiss but pauses. His face just an inch away. Your breath hitches at the close proximity, growing nervous when his eyes focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers softly against your lips. Your mind isn’t working. There’s no alarms blaring, no weird gut feeling, just you. Underneath him. Without much thought, you mutter a breathy “yes.”

He leans in, his lips molding perfectly with yours. It’s soft and passionate and you’re worried that you just might have a heart attack the way your heart is pacing. Your fingers travel their way through his long strands of hair as you happily taste the minty flavor of his mouth— covering up the taste of cigarettes. When he pulls away to catch his breath, you immediately pull him back down. Now that you got a taste of him, you don’t want to let it go.

The kiss starts getting heated when Yoongi rolls off of you and pulls you on top of him. His hands roam the surface of your back, letting them slip under your tank top. You bite on his bottom lip once you pull away, letting your soft brown hands travel up his abdomen to his solid chest. Your back arches as you leave open mouth kisses against his chest. He takes the opportunity to cup your ass into his hands, occasionally squeezing the fleshy rump.

You slightly shift your hips up against him to lift up. “Fuck,” Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. “Don’t move like that.” You furrow your brows in confusion but you quickly understand when you feel something poking your thigh. In shock, you shift again. A low groan leaves Yoongi’s mouth and he places his hands on both sides of your waist.

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, the action and the sound he let slip gave you that tingling feeling in your stomach, that familiar sensation fluttering in between your legs. You do it again. Wanting to hear that sound from him again.

“Seriously, you don’t want this to go further than it already has.” True. You don’t, but you’re a little too lust filled to think straight. And the fact that Yoongi is hard as a rock underneath you has you wet. Grinding your clothed sex onto his bulge.

“Yo, I—”

“Shut up.” You say, placing your hands on his chest to support yourself as you grind against him. The lewd sounds that escape from both of your mouths flood the room. Yoongi’s basketball shorts get bunched up in the process, the repeated action dragging the band down, exposing his boxer briefs underneath.

You lift your hips up to pull the shorts down but Yoongi stops you. He sends you a warning look that reads, ‘don’t do this.’

Regardless, you enthusiastically yank them and his boxer briefs down his thighs, letting his dick stand tall against his lower stomach. “_______, you’re confusing me.” He says while you’re busy scrapping to get the clothing from around his ankles, satisfied when they hit the floor. You turn around, looking down at him once again.

“You’re confused? Hm, I thought you were hard.” Speaking sarcastically, you turn your focus onto Yoongi’s member. You grip his length in your hand, brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip making Yoongi twitch.

“A little bit of both honestly. I mean, mostly hard but— woah woah woah, stop!” Yoongi panics once you put your mouth on his dick. He immediately sits up, his back resting against the head board. “I’m not doing this with you.” He says, to which one of your eyebrows flick up.

“Why not?” You scoff. “You don’t seem to have any problem fucking all these other bitches.” Yoongi lets out an unamused laugh, wiping his hands over his face. “You’re not other bitches. You don’t throw yourself on my dick.”

“I just did!” Technically, you did.

Yoongi scoffs, mumbling something under his breath. “It’s not the same thing. You’re invested in this _______ and you know it.” You turn your head away from him, not wanting to hear the truth. “I don’t need you to have another reason to hate me.” Rolling your eyes—

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shake your head, scooting closer to him. “I’m not. I don’t hate you, Yoongi.” You repeat, your fingers go to his hair and you focus on the way his dark hair fall on your skin before looking at him again. “And right now… I’m horny, so.” You sit in front of him, anticipating his response.

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay, what?” He grabs your waist gently, pulling you closer to him. Your lips lock onto his again and this time, the pace quickens. Yoongi’s hands reach for your tank top to pull it over your chest, you lift your arms as he pulls it off, slinging it across the room. Like clockwork, you drag your shorts down as well, tossing them in the corner without a care in the world.

Yoongi’s hands roam all over your body. Taking in the feel of your body being close to his. He retracts from the kiss to drool over your body. His pale hands over your brown skin, the only source of light coming from the window. “What do you want me to do, _______?” He asks, palming your breast in both hands. You bite your lip as you look down at him touching you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask in a whisper and you could’ve swore you felt Yoongi’s dick twitch on your thigh right after the words fell off your tongue. He felt like doing a backflip. An ability he doesn’t have but that’s how you make him feel. It’s just like you to want to ride him— it being your first time even having sex with each other.

“Fuck yes.” You let out a giggle at Yoongi’s expression before leaning over to open the top drawer of your nightstand. His eyes travel with your every movement. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing a condom.” You popped out. He purses his lips at that. “Guess I’m not the only one you’ve been wrestling in the sheets with.” Looking back at the man with the condom in your hand, the jealous look on his face makes you want to run over to your phone to take a picture. Instead you laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You say, ripping open the packet. “I bought them because they’re a necessity. I’m not fucking anyone— but i’m glad I did buy them.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “I’d rather not have the neighborhood’s dick in me raw.”

It’s almost comedic the way his jaw drop. “Neighborhood’s dick is cuh-razy!” Slipping the condom on his length, you let out a giggle. Once you’ve got it on all the way you grip his shoulders, lifting your cunt over it. “It’s okay,” you jokingly reassure. “I’ll make sure to give you a good rating.”

“Oh, you got jokes— oh shit.” His demeanor changes once you rub his tip against your wet slit. “Are you—,” He reaches out to drag a finger through your folds. “You’re mad wet.” He states the obvious and when he pulls his finger away, your arousal drags with it. Without a second thought, he lifts his finger to his mouth, sucking on it to taste you. A low moan leaves his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours.

“You ready or did you change your mind?” You shake your head slowly, feeling more aroused than ever. “I’m ready.”

Once again, you maneuver his length through your folds before aligning it at your entrance. You take a deep breath and Yoongi’s hands rub your back. You slowly lower yourself down his length, feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. Your mouth falls agape when his full length is inside of your cunt.

After a few more rounds you get used to it. Yoongi stares at the action of your pussy swallowing his length. Your pussy is so tight around him, he’s afraid he might cum too fast.

He curse in your ear as you begin to ride him faster. “Fuck— you’ve been holding back on me for all these years.” Yoongi moves his hips, helping thrust into you. Your tits jump along with you as you bounce on his cock. So deep, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes throughout the quiet apartment.

“Ah, Yoongi!” You moan out and Yoongi feels himself growing light headed. “You’re making me go crazy, _______.” He slams into your pussy faster— harder. At this point you weren’t even moving. Yoongi was the one in control of your body.

Especially when he moves you off of him, switching positions to take full control. You lie on your back, abandoned pussy and all. “Yoongi, put it back in.” You beg.

He shushes you before bending down, face in between your legs. His mouth attacks your wet cunt. He flatten his tongue to fully taste your sex. Licking and sucking all of you. His mouth sucks on your clit making you scream out in pleasure while his three fingers abuse your hole. “Yoongi, fuck that feels so good.” He slightly smirks up at you.

“Tell me whose pussy this is.” He says lowly. You could’ve came right then and there just from how sexy he said it. All dominant and territorial. The way he looks— his long dark hair sticking to his face and neck.

“Yuh— oh my god!” You moan out as your legs begin to shake at the overwhelming stimulation of his mouth and fingers.

“Tell me.” He demanded a bit louder.

“Yours Yoongi! It all yours, mm.” His fingers moves faster and you grip the sheets for moral support. “F- Fuck me Yoongi. I want your dick inside me.” It doesn’t take long before he obeys. He lifts up, just before you could orgasm and slides his hard dick inside of you. With Yoongi in control now, the pace is much faster. He lifts one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder for better access.

Going deeper inside of you, hitting all of the right spots. You pull him down towards your body, your nails digging into his back, creating little crescent moon shaped marks. Chest to chest, Yoongi penetrates your pussy as the two of you share a feverish kiss.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.” You say against his lips, out of breath. He rapidly nods his head. “Cum, mm.” His thrusts slow down, instead he makes sure to go deeper, hitting your spot repeatedly, making your legs shake around him. “Cum for me, _______.”

A few thrusts later and you cream on his dick. He pulls out, slips off the condom and starts stroking his dick. You place your hands over his, moving your mouth towards his tip. When the long drags of warm semen pour out you catch every drop of it. Mouth wide open, tongue out— you swallow his cum. Licking the tip afterwards for good measure.

Yoongi’s heavy breathing fills the room as he collapses on the bed. You get up to throw the used condom out and to collect your pajamas off the floor, walking with a bit of a limp. You toss Yoongi his basketball shorts before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and changing.

When you come back, you find Yoongi already in his basketball shorts lying on the bed still. “Not gonna dip?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant. You don’t want him to go but you don’t need him to know that. You were just awfully vulnerable and something similar to regret is already creeping up on you.

“Naw, why would I?” You shrug before laying in bed next to him. Not even being able to position yourself, he makes sure he cuddles into you, your face close as hell to his. “So how was the neighborhood’s dick?” He jokingly asks, laughing after. You lightly punch his chest.

“I’m not finna play with you Yoongi.” Yoongi serves you a feigned pout. “Awe, you regretting it already?” You don’t say anything because you really don’t know if you are. You don’t regret the sex because— fuck that was amazing. Best dick you ever had and you really will give him a good rating. However, the things that were said could’ve stayed unsaid. You shared too much vulnerability and that’s not something you’re comfortable with. The last thing you need is Yoongi to throw any of that shit back up in your face.

“I don’t regret it.” You conclude. His arms wrap around your waist tighter, grabbing one of your legs to wrap it around him. “But it won’t happen again. This was a one time thing.”

“But you swallowed my cum.” He pouts again and for some reason you don’t think it’s feigned this time. So you lightly smack his lips. Too much of a distraction.

“Because I didn’t want to get my covers dirty, you freak.” He dramatically raises his eyebrows. “So now I’m back to being a freak.” You sigh because it seems like he’s purposely not paying attention to what you’re actually trying to say.

“Yoongi.” You say seriously making him nod his head. “Okay, I got it. it was a one time thing.” Despite his display of understanding, you can’t help but hear the underlying disappointment in his voice.

You lay in his arms for hours. Neither of you fall asleep, replaying the previous events in your head. You debate with yourself whether or not you’re being in denial, too petty, stubborn, unreasonable. Whether or not you should give Yoongi a chance. Because right now you feel safe. Right now, everything is okay while your head rests against his beating chest. Right now…

“AGUST D GET YO’ ASS DOWN HERE NIGGA!”

You jump. You and Yoongi both lift up— your face of shock is a bit different from his. He knows what it is and you think you do too. That’s why you’re shook as fuck. The shouting and calling through the window doesn’t stop. And when Yoongi arms unravels from your waist, your heart sinks.

“What is that?” You ask.

And when that same, familiar, sorry ass, corny ass smirk that you hate so damn badly form onto Yoongi’s face… you knew.

“That’s D-TOWN BABY.”

[<< • | next >>]

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#who(re) you 🍂#jiminscockr1ng #˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚#bts smut #bts fanfic #kpop smut #bts x black reader #black reader #bts x reader #yoongi x black reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months

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My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | series masterlist

Hi, and welcome to Bora Ranch!

At Bora Ranch you will rediscover who you are, reconnect with your sister, and your childhood friend, Park Jimin, that will stir old feelings back. There's a lot of ups and downs, a lot of heartbreak, misunderstandings, what ifs, bad timing, but in the end, you will know what truly makes your heart beat, and where your heart's home is.

It's a story that will take you on a heartbreaking journey to find out what love is and the meaning of 'home', coming home and finding love. There's a lot of angst in it, I'd call it HEALING ANGST. Everything will be good in the end! Just have to go through a lot of heartbreak before the sun truly shines. There's a lot of soulmates vibes/undertones in it, and it's a lovestory at it's core. It's very romancey (Why do I suddenly feel like I wrote a YA but with mature language???).

This story is HEAVLY inspired by McLoed's Daughters (both the world/setting/plot), some plot points follow that story, but most of it doesn't.

“It will take some time To find your heart And come back home You could walk for miles Cross every river And find your not alone ‘Cos I'll be there” - From McLeod’s Daughters theme song

🐴 Summary: You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite? 🐴 Pairing: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter)*, jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc *I also want to clarify some things about the tags/pairings! Jungkook x reader only happens once, it is crucial for the sake of the plot, but please don't let that stop you from reading it (I take it you want to read it because of Jimin x reader). Jimin x reader is the main couple! 🐴 Characters: female reader (she’s more like an OC, but isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴 AUs: ranch!au, slice of life!au, childhood friends to lovers!au, cowboy!au, soulmate!au 🐴 Genres: smut, humor, fluff, slow burn and angst (yes, it’s got everything lol!) 🐴 Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact! 🐴 Word count: 230k (epilogue excluded) 🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴 Warnings/tag: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain sexual themes, smut and a lot of sexual tension and a hell of a lot of angst! Like series is an emotional rollercoaster ride, it will leave you both happy, sad, frustrated, mad, angry and oh so in love. All through the series. You have been warned, lol. 🐴 Status: completed 🥳 🐴 Fancy reading on AO3? It is cross-posted there! 🐴 Do you want to see the book cover (there's a teaser too)? [it's here] 🐴 Author’s note: this series is heavily inspired by the TV show McLeod’s Daughters. Some plot points will feel familiar, while others won’t (because I don’t follow that story structure to a tee). But If you love that show that I do, I’m 100% sure you’ll love this story too! Also, I don’t expect people to really be interested in this… this is more of a story about coming home, finding home, finding love and such… and I don’t know if you want to read that sort of thing? But I fucking love it! ✨

Chapter #1 - Inheritance | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter one

Chapter #2 - It’s a Long Road | word count: 9.1k | read → chapter two

Chapter #3 - Sometimes | word count: 11.8k | read → chapter three

Chapter #4 - It Comes to This | word count: 7.5k | read → chapter four

Chapter #5 - Our Home, Our Place | word count: 11k | read → chapter five

Chapter #6 - Wild Horses | word count: 11k | read → chapter six

Chapter #7 - We Got it Wrong | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter seven

Chapter #8 - Love You, Hate You | word count: 9.5k | read → chapter eight

Chapter #9 - Take the Rain Away | word count: 8.2k | read → chapter nine

Chapter #10 - The First Touch | word count: 16.4k | read → chapter ten

Chapter #11 - This Perfect Day | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter eleven

Chapter #12 - Broken Dreams | word count: 14.4k | read → chapter twelve

Chapter #13 - Love Letter | word count: 13.4k | read → chapter thirteen

Chapter #14 - I Wish the Past was Different | word count: 10.5k | read → chapter fourteen

Chapter #15 - Did I Tell You? | word count: 13.7k | read → chapter fifteen

Chapter #16 - The Stranger | word count: 14.1k | read → chapter sixteen

Chapter #17 - Love of Your Life | word count: 13.3k | read → chapter seventeen

Chapter #18 - By My Side | word count: 14.7k | read → chapter eighteen

Chapter #19 - Home [END] | word count: 18.2k | read → chapter nineteen

Chapter #20 - My Heart's Home [Epilogue + Q&A] | word count: 7.4k | read → chapter twenty

Please let me know if you're excited for this??? I'm still writing it, and honestly... I love it! But it's tough to write such a long series without any feedback or knowledge whether it's good or sucks... so.. yeah....

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

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bunnyksj · 2 months

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Do I Wanna Know? - KSJ x Reader.

Summary: If your husband can sleep around, going after any woman he can get his hands on, what's stopping you from getting back at him by sleeping with your coworker?

Author’s Note: JIN MY LOVE, anyways thank you so much for all your support on the last fics like omg (>w<), i really appreciate it so much you don't understand.

TAGS: MDNI, smut, cheating (guys don't do it that shits wack), revenge sex, slight manhandling teehee, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, he hits it raw </3 (as normal LMAO).

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

It all started when your husband came home intoxicated from a long night out.

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

He lay sprawled out on your sofa, dark rings under his eyes. You could smell the alcohol radiating off his body from across the room, making your nose scrunch in disgust. His phone was violently vibrating, a plethora of messages coming through his phone. Angry mistresses demanding for cash in exchange for keeping quiet about his affairs.

“Fucking pig.” You muttered under your breath, a blend of hurt and anger flowing through your body.

You pour yourself a glass of champagne, softly crying into the glass, taking in the wright of the situation, the life you had built together, the love and adoration you once had for one another had slowly faded, and now, it had completely died out.

As more messages kept coming through, you felt your heart sink lower and lower, taking small sips from your glass. What should you do now? You stood there in silence, leaning against the kitchen countertop, pondering your next moves.

Should you just pack all your stuff and leave? No, you don't have anywhere to go, and getting a divorce is expensive enough, you dont wanna imagine how much it would be to find your own place, and settle in at the same time.

Eventually, an idea came into your head.

Who the fuck does your husband think he is? Sleeping around behind your back, like you wouldnt eventually find out. Well, it's time to show him you're not the only one who keeps secrets.

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

Seokjin was someone that you had worked with for a long time. You couldn't lie and said you didn't admire sharp features and soft smiles from time to time, finding comfort in his warm and caring eyes. And you definitely weren’t the only one. It was pretty common for the women around your office to fawn over him when he’d walk past. Talking in hushed giggles about what they would do to him if given the chance.

You thought you guys were friendly enough with each other, often talking during your lunch break, engaging in deep conversations about the issues you were dealing with. But that was mainly it. Seokjin usually kept himself closed off, brushing off the lustful stares and small giggles of his female coworkers, often keeping his gaze cold and calculating. He never gave them the time of day, and honestly, you didn't think he’d give you that either.

But hey, trying never hurt anybody.

You pressed the phone against your ear with shaking hands, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Hi..um..Seokjin,” You began, stamming with nervousness, but also a slight hint of excitement. “Are you busy at all today?”

“No, not really. Why?” He said, his soft voice coming from the other end of the line.

You took a deep breath, putting on a slight sultry tone in your voice.

“I’ve been thinking about you alot. Won’t you come over~.”

He took a deep inhale. “I don’t know if I should, y/n. What about-”

“My husband? Don’t worry about that dickhead.” You said, quickly cutting him off.

“Besides,” A small smirk crept onto your face. “You can keep a secret, right?”

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

“Shit…” He groaned softly, laying you down on your back. “You’re so fucking sexy baby, been wanting this for a long time..”

Seokjin came over shortly after you called him. His breath hitched as he entered your room, his hooded gaze trailed across your lingerie clad body. Your husband had left a few hours ago. To go where? Who the fuck knows. Not like you even cared anymore, you were having your own fun. Let him run around behind your back all he wants, you’ll do it too.

You felt a strange sense of satisfaction and power, like you had the upper hand now. You feel your heart racing in anticipation, as Seokjin lips slowly move down your neck, his hands reaching behind your back to unclip your bra, letting your breasts free.

Seokjin's firm hands run over your breasts, softly pinching your nipples under his thumbs. “So perfect…” He mutters, softly licking around one of your nips.

You whine softly, running your hands along his broad back, feeling his firm muscles under your soft palms. He slowly moves his hand down your torso, caressing the wetness pooling between your thighs. Slowly, he peels off your lace panties, throwing them aside.

“So pretty baby. You’re gonna let me take care of you right? Gonna make you feel so good.” He whispers slowly into your ear, breath tickling your throat.

He slowly moves over your clit, rubbing it gently, making you whimper softly. His hands run down your thighs as he places himself between your legs, his breath lightly fanning against your folds.

“Such a sensitive sweet thing. Poor baby hasn’t been fucked good in a while, has she?”

You shake your head, big eyes gazing down into his. “Wanna feel good…”

“I know, angel. Just relax for me, mkay. Gonna fuck you so damn good.”

He slowly licks over your folds, sucking on your pretty clit. His hands force your thighs apart, pulling you closer to his face, worshiping your body. He groans softly, moving his tongue around you, swirling over your clit, your arousal painting his lips. Soft wet noises and your whines fill the room, your hands running through Seokjin's soft hair, lightly gripping it.

“Mmm..fuck..so good~!” You cry, softly grinding your hips against his face, your eyes rolling back, pleasure coursing through your veins.

“You taste so fucking good..” He growls, slowly slipping his fingers into your pussy, spreading you open whilst he licks and sucks your clit. His fingers arch slightly, pressing onto your g-spot, making you arch and moan. Your hands pull on his hair, making him moan lowly, his fingers moving faster inside you.

“J-jinnie~,” You whine. “Want you now..”

“Yeah, you want me inside of you? Want me to fuck you like a good little whore?”

He kneels on the bed, throwing your legs over his wide shoulders, pulling you closer to him, your lower back slightly off the bed as he positions himself between your dripping thighs.

“Mhm..please, I want it so bad. Wanna be a good little slut,” You cry, your body aching with desire and need. “Please, Jinnie?”

He gives you a soft smirk, before pushing into you, his thick cock rubbing against your walls. “Gonna fill this little cunt up, fuck you just right.” He says, slowly pushing every inch as deep as he can inside of you.

You moan loudly, feeling him fill you up. He’s massive, way bigger than your husband, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You lie back on the bed, eyes rolling and panting loudly as he claims your body. His hips slap against yours, wet slaps filling the room, making you even wetter. His hands grip your legs, pushing them back a little to reach even deeper inside you, slight bruises forming on your legs due to his tight grip. Your hands claw at the sheets, your vision blurring from the intense pleasure.

“Fuck, should’ve known you were such a slut, would’ve fucked you ages ago, made you my little bitch.” He says, emphasizing his words with his harsh thrusts.

“F-fuck…you’re so fucking good..so big..” You gasp, your body clenching around his girth, begging for more.

You bounce off his hips, chest bouncing with each thrust, the desperation and passion of your fucking filling the room. His hands run up your chest, reaching your throat, his grip softly putting pressure around it,

“You’re mine now right? My good little slut?” He says, running his tongue over his top lip, looking down into your eyes, his eyes clouded with lust.

“Mhm..yes~!” You cry, your body slowly reaching its climax. “Wanna be yours, Jinnie. Only you can fuck me this good~!”

“Fuck, that's it baby..” He growls. “Such a shame, your little husband never treated you right, good thing you’re getting fucked by a real man now. Now you know how good I can make you feel, right?”

You nod, a warm pool of pleasure forming in your stomach. “Fuck, Jinnie! I’m gonna cum~! Please…”

A dark smirk grows on his face, his fingers playing with your clit, driving you to your peak. “Go on. Cum for me, sweet angel.”

You cry, your back arching, your body losing control. You cum around him, wetness coating all over the sheets below you as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm.

He growls at the sight of you, your pretty face twisted in pure pleasure. It drives him over the edge, and he cums deep inside of you. Thick ropes painting your insides, filling you up nicely.

He pants, sweat coating his forehead, his hand brushing back his sweaty hair, leaning down to kiss you passionately. You return the kiss, your tongues both softly sliding around each other, enjoying the intimate embrace. He grabs you by the hips, lifting you up bridal style.

“Cmon, let's get you cleaned up.” He says, smiling softly, carrying you towards the shower. You give him a small smile, leaning into his bare chest, panting softly, catching your breath.

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

A few days have passed since then, and your husband is none the wiser. You smile softly, thinking about the night you shared with Seokjin not long ago. Your thoughts are interrupted by a text message coming through on your phone. It’s Seokjin.

“You free today, angel?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#bunny.writes #kim seokjin #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan smut

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Kink.com // Jake Seresin & Bradley Bradshaw

Part One Summary: You’re offered an opportunity you just can’t refuse ~ To shoot a kink .com video with Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw, two of the worlds most renowned BDSM dominants.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. SMUT!! BDSM type scenes. Unrealistic representation of the porn industry but it’s what you’re getting. Overstimulation, orgasm denial, anal, and double penetration.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author Note: This is strictly porn with a plot. There is no critically acclaimed literature here. But vibrators are encouraged!

The warmth of burnt oranges, bright yellows and deep amber reds cast a comforting ambience through your apartment. Cascading windows brought the natural beauty of central park into your living room. You held your phone held close to your ear as you sat wrapped in your bathrobe, hair masked up, drinking in the luxurious moisture of the organic hair mask your best friend had brought you for your birthday. A warm cup of tea cooling peacefully by your side, nestled on the coffee table as you tried not to bite your nails. Coming back into your own head as if you'd been off somewhere else at the sound of your manager's voice.

“kink’s offering $90,000, they really want you to sign on as the submissive in this video Y/n.” It was almost as if your manager knew by your deafening silence that you had your reservations. “At least think about it. Three of the top five porn stars in the world, working together? That’s a lot of revenue for the company and not to mention that 90k? besides! I wouldn’t throw shit your way.”

“I've just never worked with either of them before, I’ll definitely have to do some research, ask around, find out what the go is.” It was something your manager, Alex, agreed with, opting to let you do your research before accepting the deal you’d been offered by Kink and ask around the industry. Weigh up the pros and cons before making a commitment or passing up the opportunity to work with Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw .

“At this stage.” Looking out across the park as trees blew leaves haphazardly across the pavement, you sighed. “I really need to do my research but I wanna say yes just because I know I won’t get this offer again anytime soon.” Alex agreed on his end. “Just keep that between us! It’s not in writing, but yeah, I guess it’s worth it.”

Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw, two of the world's most renowned Dominants in the porn industry. A chance to work with them was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and surely one that doesn’t come around twice. You see, Jake and Bradley had a very unusual request, only one, and that request was–

They only ever work with a submissive once and once only.

So when Kink offered you the chance to work with two of the most well respected, very talented and downright jaw-dropping best friends how could you say no? Their careers as dominants had taken off around the same time you had started gaining recognition as one of the top female submissives in the BDSM community.

Although you were a switch at heart and could dish it out to both men and women just as much as you could take it – you could never resist the chance to be tied up and ‘tortured’ whenever the opportunity was handed your way. And what’s better than being denied an orgasm by a dominant? Being denied an orgasm by two incredibly handsome dominants.

It took you, if you had to time it, a rough four hours to decide to take up the offer and work with Jake and Bradley. You rang around, asked the questions that needed to be asked. It really did settle your nerves asking those who had worked with Jake and Bradley in the past what they were like. It only took you so long to decide because the layout you received of the scenes looked pretty intense – maybe even the most intense video you’d ever shoot. Kink was trying to get you to branch out and they knew to offer you the gig with the duo would entice you even more, because, at the end of the day you were still human and there was not a doubt in your mind that you would let Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw take you – with or without the money.

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

As a professional, you did your research – well, by research I mean you sat at your desktop and binge watched any and all videos the dynamic duo had ever done. Especially for Kink, because they were brutal and you needed to know how they operated.

So you sat for hours, drinking your tea and teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves every now and again as you watched Jake fuck Rachel (Phoenix Trance, another very popular pornstar) with a dick stick as Bradley whipped her clamped tits. Oh, boy, did she look helpless tied up like that – hands tied with rope above her head as her toes just barely touched the ground. She was almost suspended. To the untrained eye, it really did look as if she was in pain, desperately trying to force her leg from Jake's shoulder as he thrust the dildo repeatedly into her soaking cunt.

But for you? a pro? You knew all the signs to look for and without a doubt in your mind – Phoenix was loving every second of the painful pleasure that was being inflicted on her body by Jake and Bradley.

At the same time as you were researching them, Jake was happily stroking his throbbing cock to videos of you being a submissive.

“Ah fuck!” He sat on his bed, laptop just to the side of him, legs spread wide as he slowly pumped his throbbing length watching on as you took a paddling like a true champ. Your ass so raw as you bent over the bench, hands tied in true bondage style as you gaged around the cock that was face fucking you at the same time. “Such a good girl—“ Jake was thinking the same, you looked defenceless against the two burly men whose faces he couldn’t recognise. Unlike him and Bradley, most male dominants are off-screen as much as possible, whereas they like to show the whole world how they fuck their submissives.

“You can’t take a lot can't you?” Jake was looking for signs of distress, looking for your tell-tale signs to ‘stop’ or ‘slow down’ and he only saw one. You would gag three consecutive times if you truly needed to breathe, not wanting to break character, the dominant would back away, slap your face with his cock a few times before going straight back to work.

Bradley was busy doing his own research, but unlike Jake? he was watching you be a dominant.

See when it came to being a dominant or dominatrix to be politically correct, you much preferred to work with women. Why? Because you knew how to work your way around a woman's body. And views were always ten times higher so with good revenue coming in for the company, meant a bigger paycheck for you. You enjoyed your job, truly you did but sometimes it was more about taking the biggest check so you could provide for yourself financially.

“Ohh fuck—“ Bradley watched as you held your submissive’s cheeks, her lips pressed out and puckered as you held what seemed to be a very high-speed vibrator to her sensitive bundle of nerves. With a hand wrapped around his length Bradley jutted his hips forward as he twitched in pure pleasure. “Such a tease.”

You had her arms and legs tied together. Feet to wrist in some of the most professionally tied bondage Bradley had seen in a while. Almost as good as his own knotwork. Leaning over your submissive Bradley couldn’t help but noticed how much joy you took in pleasuring your submissive– Bradley was sure he’d fucked her once before but he couldn’t put a name to the fucked out face he was listening to scream for you to let her cum. It was safe to say Bradley was very much impressed with your abilities none the less but watching how you ‘torture’ your submissives just made him want to give you something to cry about. “Let’s see how you like your own medicine.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Nervous. That’s what you were when you entered the lobby of Kink’s headquarters in New York. Like a 5-star hotel lobby, it blew you away with its magnificent ability to be seemingly innocent in its disguise. Walking up to the ‘reception?’ you stuttered a bit before the lady typing away on the computer noticed who you were.

“Hi, um–I’m h-here to shoot a video for–”

“Y/n darling, we’ve been expecting you!” The lady confessed with a wide smile that was warm and welcoming. “I’ll show you to the room shall I?” Before you could even nod she was on her feet. Her pencil skirt was so unbelievably tight around her thighs and ass that you could clearly make out the thong underneath the thin fabric. Her red bottoms clicked against the marble flooring until you both reached the elevator. Stepping in, it felt awkward – so you prepared for the awkward silence. But to your surprise, she kept talking.

“This your first time working with us?”

“Hmm? Oh-oh yeah” You mumbled, pushing your hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat. “I’ve never shot in this building before, but I’m not a virgin to Kink – done maybe three or four soft bondage videos for you guys.” She smiled, generally intrigued by your conversation.

“I think I’ve watched a few of your videos actually, either that or I’ve mailed the check.” This time you both laughed, it made you feel really comfortable walking into such a compromising situation–but you figured that was a part of her job description. When the elevator dinged, signalling you had reached your final destination, she bid you a professional farewell.

“Well Y/n I hope you enjoy your day. Two doors down the hall to your right.” You nodded in response, still nervous but much more confident than you were just moments ago. As you walked down the hall, remembering the directions given, you stopped at the door that read “Seresin/Bradshaw x Lavender” on the front. It was common knowledge your last name wasn’t lavender, it was somewhat of a stage name, something to give you an extra boost of confidence. Your last name wasn’t public knowledge.

Knocking three gentle times it wasn’t long before someone opened the door, and boy were you instantly smiling when you noticed it was Jake Seresin himself.

“Hi” Was all you said as he stepped to the side to welcome you inside.

“Hi? That’s all the guy who’s about to fuck your brains out gets?” You immediately knew Jake was joking by his tone of voice. You let out a sheepish laugh, biting your bottom lip as you tried to hide the smile growing on your somewhat nervous face. Jake turned, leaning against the door he’d just locked behind himself, arms folded over his chest as the black T he wore looked as if it was about to burst from his chest.

“Rumour has it you only want me for my body Seresin? Where’s your other half anyway?” Jake chuckled before running a hand through his hair, only to gesture over to Bradley who was helping the camera crew set up their stations and double checking they had all the toys the scenes required.

“He’s being pedantic, has to make sure everything’s perfect for every shoot we do.” Jake placed a hand on the small of your back as he walked you deeper into the dimly lit room. Blinds drawn and studio lights already shining. “Especially for such a highly anticipated collaboration - Who knows? Maybe if you’re as good as what I’ve seen we might have to see each other again?” You stood still, frozen in your tracks at the words that just escaped Jake Seresin’s mouth.

“You don’t work with people more than one time around? I know your rule, don’t be a tease.” You scoffed, somewhat flirting to ease your anxieties.

“Aren’t rules meant to be broken? M’not teasing Y/n, just letting you know that if you’re a good girl we might be able to come to a standing agreement.” Jake was smug in the way he spoke to you, clearly already very deep into his dominant character–a method actor for the camera. So you humoured him, trying hard to fight off the natural dominant within yourself as you would have to submit in less than half an hour.

“Well as long as you don’t break my rules Jake, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.” Confidence seeped from your pores, or maybe it was just the sweat beginning to build up from the heat being produced from the studio lights.

“And what would those rules be Y/n, hmm? does it have anything to do with the fact you gag three times in a very not so natural way if you can't take a dick down your throat?” Remember that confidence you thought you had? Yeah no, it was definitely just sweat.

“How did you kno—” Before you could finish your sentence, Jake spun you around so your back was against his chest, his hands pulling your arms behind your back, coming between the two of you as he leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“I do my research sweetheart, oh am I going to have fun with you today.” His hot breath fanned against your cool skin, causing goosebumps to rise wherever it fanned against. The heat between your legs already began to rise but maybe that was Jake’s objective to begin with, get you as naturally wet as he possibly could before filming commenced.

“Trust me I did my own, that stick thrust? weak at best.” You fired back, looking over your shoulder as Jake's grip around your wrist became tighter at the sound of your fiery voice.

“Oh yeah? We’ll have to see about that, won't we? God wait until Bradshaw gets a hold of those perky tits – you’ll be begging for a fucking orgasm.” Jake let you go as he stepped away. His pants had become increasingly tighter at the thought of what he was about to do to your perfect body. Your attitude just made it even better. He always loved a fight, loved some foreplay before really getting into it.

“Shall we?” Jake questioned, gesturing to the stool you would be sitting on momentarily, going through your safe words and restrictions.

“Only if you have something other than that belt hugging your waist to choke me with?” You teased, walking past him to the chair, smiling at Bradley who was waiting–arms crossed and smirking wildly as he watched you saunter over. You could hear Jake mumble under his breath but chose to ignore it so you could get the nitty gritty part out of the way so the three of you could truly have some fun.

“Trust me, the thing I'll be choking you with isn’t on my pants, it’s in them.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Okay Y/n, are you over the age of eighteen?” Bradley asked as the camera’s focused themselves on you as you sat perfectly poised on the stool. Both Jake and Bradley sat just off camera for this section of the filming, just asking the necessary questions the audience would love to know when the video is finished and posted.

“I am.” You politely responded, crossing your legs as you held your hand over your knees. You were far too excited, probably more excited than you’d ever been to go to work.

“Okay good.” Bradley was reading from a list of mandatory questions that needed to be asked, stuff Jake and himself had to know before they could even lay a finger on you – something Jake didn’t really consider before when he was making you cream your panties in the name of foreplay.

“what’s your safe word when not gaged?”

“Red.” You smiled, biting your bottom lip.

“And how about when you’re gagged?”

“Three consecutive uh uh uh’s, really quick, you’ll know it if you hear them.” Bradley nodded as Jake smiled, he already knew that.

“What do you say in response to a question asked if you are completely comfortable and enjoying yourself?”

“Yes sir.” You were getting squirmy, moving around the stool as your panties dampened, every question Bradley asked meant you were closer to getting fucked –and truthfully? You had never been so excited.

“How about if you need one or both of us to pull back but not break character or stop the scene?”

“Yes master.”

“Good, okay.” Bradley was checking off questions left and right, flying through the paperwork he had to fill out as he smirked at you, his eyes dark and full of lust.

“What are your restrictions?” Jake took over, eggar to know with a curious tone to his husky, deep voice. Giggling innocently, you looked at the two of them, the camera crew practically none existent in your mind at this point – you had done this too many times before to worry about a few extra men and women seeing you get fucked.

“I don’t like foot play and I really don’t care for electro stim –so don’t come at me with anything that shocks or zaps.”

“So overstimulation, orgasm denial, anal, and double penetration are okay? Just no prods or feet. Am I correct in my assumptions?” Jake was being more than professional for the camera, he knew exactly what to say and when to say it.

“More than okay.” It was the way Bradley coughed slightly to clear his throat, interrupting Jake before he could literally walk towards you right that second and start taking you as if you were all his to play with.

“Okay well, I think we have everything we need, I’ll have Jake quickly log this and I’ll help you get set up shall I?” Bradley stated as he smiled wildly, excited to finally get you out of your pretty sundress and into some restraints. He definitely hadn’t forgotten about the video he had watched of you ‘torturing’ you submissive – so he was very keen to have you screaming, begging to cum.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bradley was gentle with his hands as he hogtied you with the thick natural rope – talking to you naturally while off camera.

“This okay?” He asked as he tightened the rope, pulling your arms back the slightest bit more to meet your feet. Your stomach flat against the bench, exactly hip height to where Bradley stood beside you.

“Could be tighter if you want it for aesthetic but it’s okay Bradley.”

“I saw what Jake was doing before? Did it work?” He chuckled as he walked around the bench, making sure you were properly restrained on all angles.

“I don’t know, you tell me?” You teased, your legs spread and already bent – it would be so easy for Bradley to slide his hand down your ass cheek to see if his best friend really did get you nice and slick–which Jake had, but Bradley just groaned softly. He could wait, but the question on the tip of his tongue was could you?

“I would, but I’ve got something else planned for you first.” Placing a blindfold over your pretty eyes before giving you a quick and sharp slap to your ass before he left you hogtied and alone on the bench, retreating to get the camera crew and track down where Jake had wandered off to.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It wasn’t long after Bradley left that you once again heard heavy footsteps in the room and you knew it was go time by the slow and steady way they walked. Your breathing became increasingly heavy with anticipation. Everything was quiet for a moment, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing–until you felt a slight sting against your pussy.

“Ah!” You whimpered softly before you felt the sting again, it wasn’t a hand so it could only be what you assumed to be a soft whip one of the duo was working to flick against your slick, dripping pussy. You could feel a hand being twisted and interlaced in your hair, making a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head up from the bench.

“Open your mouth.” You heard the familiar voice of Bradley say – or maybe it was Jake? Without your visual to back you up, you weren’t entirely sure, but regardless of who it was you did as you were told when you felt the head of their cock glide against your soft bottom lip. Plump and ready.

“Good girl.” You heard him say before he slowly got himself familiar with the feeling out your mouth and throat. ‘Good girl’ You thought as you gaged around his shaft–definitely Jake. He didn’t give you much time at all to adjust to his size, beginning to face fuck you hard enough for your mouth to salivate like crazy, spit trailing from your lips to his tip whenever he would pull back to give the camera something nasty to film.

“Do you like the way my cock feels in that dirty mouth or yours, slut?” Jake worked to slap your face softly with his wet, heavy cock as he asked you the first question of the day— testing to see if you remembered the responses. Starting with something mild.

“Yes s-sir.” You responded before his cock was being shoved firmly down your throat once again–thrust picking up speed and depth as Bradley continued his soft assault of whips against your pussy, tenderising the area so overstimulation would be quick and easy to obtain.

“Uh--!” You gagged around Jakes length, not only from him face fucking your mouth but from Bradley’s own whipping progressively getting harder–faster, not so soft against your sensitive clit that was beginning to throb from the sharp slaps it was receiving. Long strains of perfectly woven strings all working harmoniously to bring you pleasure in the hands of a master.

“Look at you.” You heard Bradley say from behind you as Jake never slowed his assault on your face. “Do you want me to make you cum?” You gagged, Jake only pulled out of your warm mouth to marvel at the sight of your swollen lips and chin glistening from your own saliva and his cock just covered– jerking himself off as he waited for you to answer.

“Y-yes sir!” You cried through gritted teeth, your breathing heavier than before as you tried catching your breath quickly before Jake shoved his cock straight back down your tight, contracting throat. With one last whip you whimpered around the length stilled in your throat before feeling a set of fingers spreading your lips apart.

“Look at how wet you are? I bet if I just blew on your throbbing clit right now you would cum instantly?” Bradley teased, a hand came down heavily on your left ass cheek – making you jump slightly before you felt something enter you. God, you wished you could see what they were doing to you.

It was the stick dildo, entering your tight fuck hole as Jake pulled away, finally letting your hair go as your head fell heavily to the bench.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned as Bradley pushed the dildo deep inside your pussy, so deep you swore it was in your gut.

“You want to cum?” Bradley asked as he began thrusting the dildo in and out of your slick cunt. Already making you a moaning mess. “Answer me, whore–”

“Please! Please yes, make me cum sir!” You cried, begged as he fucked you so good with the dick stick, you couldn’t see but you had a feeling his face was right in front of your pussy, getting a front row seat as he kneeled behind you.

From the whipping stimulating your clit and the thrust filling you so good you were so close, so close to hitting your first high of the shoot.

“Please can I cum sir!” You cried, whimpering as you trembled, Bradley never slowed his pumps as he watched you take the dildo nearly as big as his own deep inside you.

“Hold it.” He ordered, a scream of pain leaving your lips as you tried so hard to stop yourself from releasing. “Beg for it you little whore.”

“Ah--! Sir p-please let me cum!” You begged, you were so close to not being able to hold back any longer, until you heard it, the words that made tears soak the blindfold wrapped tightly around your eyes.

“Not. A. Chance.” You felt the dildo leave your body, now empty you sobbed from the denial. Both Jake and Bradley left the room as you cooled down a bit– ready for the next intense scene to begin.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It was pure torture—being denied of an orgasm. But you loved it, the feeling of being powerless yet having all the power at the same time. Because you see, it’s never really the dominant who’s in control. It’s always the submissive - especially during a bondage scene because, with one word, you have the power to completely shut it down. Being powerless in a controlled and safe environment is exactly what you were right now, having been tortured within an inch of an orgasm you didn’t think it could get worse. Oh, how mistaken you were.

Hands tied above your head with one leg planted firmly on the ground and another tied to a plank of wood. This time you could see and oh how thankful you were for such a blessing. You couldn’t just feel the clamps pinching at your sensitive nipples, but you could see the way your buds plumped under the pressure of the harsh clamps that brought you so much pleasure— slightly irritated from the pressure they found themselves under. Just enough but somewhat painful. If left to be still it felt as if nothing was there, move slightly and oh shit.

You heard the familiar sound of the duo’s footsteps creaking against the wooden floorboards—you could see them this time, both of them in all their glory. Right now you could only describe them as sex on legs, but you were sure you’d have to wait to feel them inside you another time, maybe being a good girl as Jake said could be your only chance at feeling his cock inside your cunt instead of just your mouth - but at a later date that would have to be discussed because right now they were both walking towards you dangerously slow. Jake holding a vibrator in his large hand and Bradley with his signature whip.

You tried to move, whimpering slightly as Bradley got close enough to pull on the nipple clamps that made themselves at home on your perky tits. The chain dropping between them.

“Miss us?” He asked with a cocky smirk, pulling your head to the side as you answered a simple “Yes sir” While he trailed harsh kisses down your neck.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and Jake will let you cum? Do you want Jake to make you cum?” Bradley’s eyes never left your beautiful face as he moved to the side of you– allowing a smirking Jake to drop to his knees before you, placing the currently off vibrator against your very stimulated, very sensitive clit.

“Yes sir.” You whimpered only for Jake to slowly but surely turn on the vibrator one setting at a time.

“Ooh—! aauurrggg—--Yes!” You cried aloud. Your leg instantly shaking from the feeling. Bradley pulled and teased at the nipple clamps, his hands gentle in compassion to when he started to whip the soft whip against your exposed chest.

You tried running, but you had absolutely nowhere to go. The coil in your stomach tightening quicker than ever before as Jake effortlessly brought you closer to your orgasm - hopefully Bradley was right, hopefully Jake would let you cum.

“Aah-! Please, sir can I cum!” You groaned through gritted teeth as Bradley continued his assault on your now very raw exposed chest. Jake shook his head no, looking up at the desperation in your eyes he felt his cock throbbing.

“Why should I let you cum? What do I, well we, get out of it?” You really couldn’t think, barely able to speak as you held onto your orgasm for as long as possible.

“Anything, please sir just let me c-cum! M’begging” you cried out, at this point it was just pathetic how much you were crying out, begging to feel any sort of release. Wet tears streamed down your cheeks but everything just felt so damn good, like you were floating.

“Ahhhhhhh please, please I need to–I’m gonna– !” You cried again as Bradley tugged hard on the nipple clamps that were oh so tight on your nipples.

“You can cum but say what you are?” Jake turned the intensity up to the highest setting as he worked his fingers into your pussy, curling his fingers into your velvet walls as he manoeuvred the vibrator just right.

“Ahah- uhhh, I’m a fucking whore!” You whimpered. Your body trembling as your eyes rolled to the back of your head - squirting all over Jake’s hands as he finger fucked and teased your overstimulated clit through your orgasm–Bradley still working his magic on your exposed raw tits.

“Yes! Oh my fucking god yes! Mmmmm f-fuck!” You were sure your moans could be heard from outside the room but you didn’t care–you finally came, granted permission. Still coming down from you high as Bradley grabbed your face and pulled you towards him.

“We aren’t finished just yet, just one more thing before you're free to go.”

Jake slapped your clit three times after pulling the vibrator away–you were exhausted. Once again both men leaving you alone to recover for the next and final shoot of the day.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

There was nothing normal about your line of work, however – what’s better than making money off the feeling of euphoria. That’s how you felt when you were about to start the next and final scene of the shoot today. Jake and Bradley going out of their way to make sure you had a good experience with them and considering they were already considering working with you again? You were more than happy to play along with whatever they had installed for you – already knowing it wouldn’t be anything to do with your only two restrictions.

This scene was different all together, you were kneeling on a double bed made to perfection. your hands tied behind your back while a ball gag was sitting comfortably between your lips. Silvia already making its way down your chin as you salivated at the thought of what was to come.

When you caught the eyes of the two men, you were stunned to see them fully exposed and both rock hard. Their cocks bouncing freely as they sauntered over to you on the bed. Making sure to keep your cool so to not break character you eyed them both off as they sat softly on either side of you. Bradley must have had a fetish for your tits, because not only could he still see the lines his whip had left behind from the last scene, but he just wanted to feel his lips around your sensitive bud. So he did just that, diving head first into your chest to suck harshly on your nipple.

“Mmm–” You moaned as he sucked deep purple and red marks on sensitive buds – breaking some of your capillaries from the pressure. A pain you enjoyed and would marvel at the sight left behind in days to come.

Jake's hand diving straight for your entrance, making sure you were still slick as ever for him – and he wasn’t left disappointed. A smirk coming across his face when he saw you flinch from the overstimulation – so sensitive after being denied and tortured before. Jake grabbed at your face, his hand squashing your lips together as he came face to face with you.

“Are you going to take us both like the good girl you are?” Bradley finished his assault on your tits to come up and look at your face practically drained of all colour at the thought of having both their cocks buried deep inside you.

“Uhh huh” You moaned around the gag nodding your head with innocent eyes, Jake chuckled almost devilishly as Bradley rolled onto his back – bring you with him. pulling your chest down flat against his.

Bradley was quick to manoeuvre his cock to your entrance, unable to do so yourself considering your arms were bound behind your back in the same neutral rope used in both scenes before.

“Uhh-!” You cried out so beautifully in his ear, eyes rolling as he pushed himself further and further into your incredibly tight fuck hole. Bradley was biting his bottom lip as he lifted his hips just the slightest of bits to bottom out inside you, so snug and tight around his shaft–he could feel every pulse and shutter you made at the feeling of being so full, but not full enough.

As Bradley started a slow thrust into your pussy, Jake kneeled behind the two of you, stroking his own length with one of his hands and rubbing as much lube as he possibly could around your puckering tight ass hole. The feeling of Jake pressing his fingers around your ass made you want to cum then and there on the spot – but you knew what he was working up to, and you were so ready to feel so full.

As soon as you felt Jake's hand come to rest on your bound arms and Bradley’s hands squeeze against your ass cheeks – you knew it was about to happen. Soon enough the feeling of Jake pressing his tip inside your ass flooded every part of your body and you let out the most pornographic moan you had ever done, even some of the crew who were filing were stunned to hear you moan so beautifully as Jake pressed his cock further inside your incredibly tight ass.

“UUHH--!” Tears of pleasure were now starting to roll down your cheeks and Bradley realised that he had achieved his goal in giving you something to cry about. Both Jake and Bradley now balls deep inside you, one cock inside your ass, another pressing against your cervix – it was a feeling like no other and you couldn’t control your moans and whimpers of pleasure.

Not being able to tell them how you felt due to the ball gag hindering you from speaking, you could only tell them through your cries of pleasure. And they could only say so much to you during the process as well, not able to take things to a personal level like calling your name. all Bradley wanted to do at the very moment he saw your eyes roll was tell you how pretty you looked and all Jake wanted to do when he felt himself bottom out was let you know how fucking amazing you are at taking two large cocks inside you at the same time – but they couldn’t, contractually. Because it's porn and there are no relations in BDSM.

“Do you like the way we feel?” Jake asked at the very moment Bradley spanked your ass.

“UHH!” You replied, spit dripping from your chin onto Bradley’s chest as they fucked you at different speeds. Jake slow and steady in your tight ass while Bradley went all in, thrusting mercilessly into your dripping cunt.

“Do you want that gag out of your mouth? Bradley asked as he looked over your shoulder at Jake who was literal milliseconds away from blowing his load in your ass. You could only nod furiously – no noise escaping past your lips as you felt the familiar coil within you tighten as you enjoyed being used by two of the most renowned Dominants in the porn community.

Jake unclipped the gag, throwing it away and you couldn’t hold back any longer, screaming out how much you wanted to cum, how good it felt to be so full and stretched and how much you wanted them to flood you with everything they had.

“Please let me cum!” You cried looking down at Bradley as you felt Jake's hand come down on your right ass cheek.

“No” Bradley hissed as he slammed into you, his hand coming to wrap around your throat as Jake continuously spanked your ass–causing you to let out tiny “Ah’s” every time his slightly calloused hand made contact with your raw sensitive skin.

“Please, sir! C-can I cum!” You begged again, begging to feel the release, the pleasure, the euphoria.

Jake looked down at Bradley with a nod of approval and Bradley did the same, both about to shoot their thick hot spurts of cum deep inside you.

“You can cum but tell us what you are.” Bradley ordered and without a second to think you were creaming around his cock, pulsing like crazy around his shaft as you fell even more lifeless into his chest.

“I’m a f-fucking cum whore!”

As you came Jake felt your ass tighten around his shaft and that was enough to throw him overboard, spilling his hot creamy mess inside your deep stretched out ass hole. Bradley doing the same, only into your tight cunt, his load mixing around with yours as you trembled between the two of them – completely fucked out and exhausted.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

As you got ready, covered your body in the coconut scented moisturiser you liked so much, fixed your hair and makeup after an extensive shower, you exited the studio bathroom only to be greeted by Jake and Bradley who were once again – fully clothed and staring intensely at you. You could only raise an eyebrow in confusion at their weird behaviour.

“Do we need to redo a shot?” You couldn't for the life of you fathom doing a reshoot after how taxing today had been on your body, not that you hadnt enjoyed it. “I swear if that’s what you're asking me we’ll have to do it another time because–”

“Take this” Jake Interrupted you, handing you a piece of paper that had both Bradley and Jake's personal numbers written down. “I’m a man of my word and you were a very good girl Y/n.” You couldn’t stop the smile from plastering itself across your face or the feeling of heat rising in the apples of your cheeks.

“I already have the company’s number? Why would you give me your personal numbers?” you asked, still confused – most likely from being exhausted and ever so sore.

“I never once said we wanted to work with you again – you made that assumption on your own, I just went along with it.” Jake explained, but you still didn’t get it and that’s where Bradley stepped in to clear things up.

“What Jake's trying to say is we’d love to see you again, maybe on a personal call next time – just us three and no sets?” You looked at Bradley, your jaw almost hitting the ground.

“Mouth closed Y/n, you’ll catch flies.” Jake chuckled at your reaction. You instantly turned to face him more as you answered.

“Oh bite me Seresin.” You hissed jokingly as you giggled.

“That a yes though?” Bradley asked inquisitively – waiting for your response as your mind pondered the potential ramifications of a personal relationship or whatever this could be outside of the professional environment.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Part Two Coming Tomorrow

Tags: @phoenix1388 @avaleineandafryingpan @bradshawseresinbabe @cherrycola27 @bradshawbabes @desert-fern @jstarr86 @a-serene-place-to-be @sweetlittlegingy @teacupsandtopgun @marvelshauntedhouse @weirdothatwritess @darkheartcherry @elijahmikaelsonbitch @je-suis-prest-rachel @untoldshortsofthefandoms @chunkiwhunki @whatislovevavy @roosters-girl @endofdays56 @ccristata @emorychase @averyhotchner @xoxabs88xox @krismdavis @creativitybeware @afterglowsb-tch13 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @ladscarlett @onlyheretowastetime @sometimesanalice

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

i just saw your post about glasses!eddie munson and whenever you have the time, would you be able to write a cute series of reader finding out about his glasses ITS JUST ADORABLE

author’s note: this was meant to post sooner than now but here it is lol, i finished this pretty quick but got sidetracked. glasses!eddie has invaded my brain and it’s never leaving.

cw: sfw, glasses!eddie, eddie’s not so subtle flirting, acquaintances to friends, once again another fic where everyone bullies eddie (give this man a break), if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Your voice is soft, leaning back toward Eddie, whose eyes are nearly closed from how hard he’s focusing on the board, blindly scribbling something down on the paper. He’s lost on where the voice comes from until you’re in focus, looking back at him with a smile.

Eddie wasn’t a friend, but he wasn’t an enemy either. He was the boy who got picked on relentlessly and as much as you wanted to help, you weren’t sure it would change anything. Plus, he didn’t seem that bothered by it—or he was just really good at faking like he wasn’t.

“Oh,” Eddie replies, still confused, “I’ll be fine—Mr. Donahue’s handwriting is always shit, I can barely understand it.”

It wasn’t a total lie, but it was still legible.

“Munson!” The teacher's voice rings from the front of the classroom, “let's stop trying to distract other classmates and focus on our own work, okay?”

And if it wasn’t the condescension in his tone that pissed you off, it was the way he so quickly blamed Eddie for the interaction. He shrinks slightly, sending you an apologetic look.

It happens a few more times that week, catching Eddie glancing at the board as if it’s nearly impossible to see—and maybe he was telling the truth, but it’s also obvious that Donahue hates Eddie for no other apparent reason than just because he thinks he’s up to no good, which isn’t fair to Eddie.

You show up early to class the following week, bag resting in the chair of the desk beside you—Eddie’s usual seat, waiting. He’s always bordering on being late, making it to class as the bell rings, looking more frazzled than the others.

You weren’t sure what he got up to between classes, but he definitely seemed overwhelmed.

“This seat taken?” He asks with a smug smirk, pointing at your backpack. You smile slightly, reaching for it.

“Sorry—I just wanted to make sure I could sit beside you.” You tell him honestly. It throws Eddie off, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly before relaxing, eyes roaming over you curiously. “You said you can’t understand his handwriting, I was gonna let you copy my notes.”

“Can I copy your work too?” Eddie asks jokingly, but you can tell he means it. “I’m barely scraping by with a D in this class.”

You snort out a quiet laugh. “Let’s worry about the notes first.”

Eddie spends most of the class still struggling, forehead creased up as he sifts through your notes, writing things down sparingly. It’s almost like he’s trying not to be mean, focusing a little too hard on one word every now and then as he looks over, your papers perched on the corner of the desk.

“If my writing is horrible you can tell me,” You say, which makes Eddie chuckle, “seriously, I won’t be offended.”

“It’s not that,” He assures you, “it’s just—the angle, it’s a little hard to read them—“

“Oh, well,” You grab the papers in a bunch, extending them toward him, “here, just take them.”

Eddie ignored you, his fingers wrapping around the leg of your desk to pull it flush against his—it’s quick enough that it doesn’t make much noise, only a slight shifting that draws a few eyes.

“Or…that works too.” You say shyly, face heating up at his straightforwardness. “Better?”

He glances over, shifting the papers to his side and gives a subtle nod as his lips pull together in a tight line, “Yeah, actually.”

And it’s almost blissful silence as Eddie copies them down, asking a few questions when your words meld together out of habit when you’re writing too quickly, he still leans in slightly but you don’t pester him on it—eventually Eddie’s actions are noticed, all eyes shifting toward the back of the classroom.

When you look up, everyone is staring back, including the pensive and threatening eyes of your teacher.

Eddie mumbles a soft, “Sorry.” as he pushes your desk back.

“Do I need to remind you two that this isn’t a matchmaking class?”

And it’s a ridiculous comment to make, but it has Eddie scoffing slightly underneath his breath.

“I’m letting him copy my notes,” You say innocently, “is that okay?”

You can’t remember having a problem in any of your classes, either flying under the radar or one of the usual favorites—you’ve never felt this tense, staring down the entirety of the group that was staring right back, though your gaze was focused on Mr. Donahue.

Eddie looks at you briefly before settling his eyes toward the desk, fiddling with pen in his hands to soothe his anxiety.

“If Eddie has a problem, he can come sit up front,” He says coarsely, “I don’t think you have the wiggle room to be socializing, do you?”

And suddenly his gaze on you is forgotten, flicking toward Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t give him the satisfaction, shuffling his shoulders forward in an effort to hide himself, scribbling something random down on the paper in front of him—it’s something he did when was bored or uncomfortable, even, a comfort.

You catch Eddie toward the end of class, gripping his sleeve before he can sneak away.

“How far behind are you?” You ask him, peering up at him curiously. Eddie looks sheepish, glancing away for a moment.

“Uh, I haven’t really taken notes all semester—I kinda just..scribble shit down so it looks like I’m working.”

Your eyes slant down slightly, in an ire of disbelief as your mouth parts, “Eddie, are you serious?”

He shrugs, reaching a hand up to scratch his jaw. You huff through your nose, snatching the pen perched in Eddie’s pocket and uncapping it before shoving it into his hands.

“Give me your address.” You insist, holding out your arm to him. Eddie seems skeptical, fingers wrapping around your arm gently, shifting your sleeve up, “I’m getting you caught up—don’t look at me like that.”

And truly, he’s not sure how to respond. Kindness and niceties weren’t at all familiar, feeling like there was always some ulterior motive. Still, he scribbles down the information with slow strokes, careful that it doesn’t smudge—leaving a small smiley face out of spite, forcing a similar expression onto your own face.

“I’m free after six,” He tells you, “so unless you want to get caught up in awkward conversation with my uncle, wait until then.”

You laugh at that, pulling your sleeve down.

“How else am I supposed to uncover all of your secrets?”

Eddie smirks slightly, eyes averting toward the floor.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know—you just have to ask.”

He spends most of his nights—sans the ones where he’s performing for the small audience at The Hideout or hosting Hellfire meetings—organizing campaigns and writing down random things that come to his mind, feeling the need to get the thought out on paper, even if it’s song lyrics or a drawing.

He adjusts the thin rimmed glasses up his nose, eyes hurting from the strain he’s forced them through all day. He knows he should spend a few minutes resting, even just closing his eyes for a moment, but he can’t help it. Eddie knows it’s his fault, the beginnings of a headache forming as he tries to focus, his finger sneaking up to rub at his eye—he can feel the haziness, willing it away.

But then you’re knocking at his door and every thought is thrown out the window—part of him never expected you to show, his heart thrumming in his chest as he leaps from the bed, tossing the papers away haphazardly and forcing the glasses up into his hair without a thought, pushing his bangs away from his face.

Eddie whips the door open, causing you to startle slightly.

“Hi.” You say wearily, a soft smile on your face.

“Hi,” Eddie responds slightly out of breath, before clearing his throat and offering a smoother, “Hey.”

Your eyes glance up, noticing the difference in his face. His bangs were like a trademark, constantly hiding his eyebrows. You point up curiously, speaking before you can think things through.

“You wear glasses?” You ask, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“No—no uh, of course not.” Eddie responds quickly, adamant in his refusal. “Why would you—“

He’s clearly caught off guard, standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes crossing as he follows your finger, only realizing his mistake when you drag the glasses down slowly, pushing them gently up the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that is definitely an interesting pair of non-existent glasses.” You say jokingly, grinning at his embarrassment, cheeks flushing a deep red.

It’s hard to explain how perfectly they fit his face—like it’s the missing piece that pulls him together. He’s not dressed up like usual, in a faded graphic shirt and gray pair of sweats, no jacket or rings in sight. It’s natural—and it’s in that split second you can see the real Eddie. Not the threatening, menacing Eddie Munson that everyone played him out to be.

Eddie nods wearily, beckoning you inside.

“I won’t tell anyone,” You promise him with a tinge of amusement, rounding on him as he closes the door, shoving the stack of papers at his chest, “—if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Eddie pulls the glasses off of his face, folding them up.

“It’s not that,” Eddie tells you, “—didn’t mean for you to find out about them, it kinda ruins the whole image, you know?”

Image. It makes you laugh to yourself silently.

“You didn’t seem like you were trying to hide them,” You giggled slightly, “besides, I don’t think they ruin anything.”

“I kinda forgot you were coming.” Eddie lies, knowing he had been riddled with nerves since he stepped foot inside of the trailer that evening, not understanding why he was so anxious to begin with.

“Look, I don’t mean to overstep or anything—“ You stop briefly, sighing softly, “but if you need a tutor or even just…some help, I don’t mind.”

Eddie doesn’t really know how to take it, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

“I study with Nancy a lot,” You explain, “it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m a lost cause,” Eddie admits with half-smile, “there’s no saving me.”

“I don’t believe that,” You tell him honestly, approaching him to shove the glasses back toward his chest, his other hand still stuffed full with the papers containing your notes, “—seriously, put them back on and I can spend a couple hours seeing where you’re at.”

Eddie listens, though skeptically, placing the glasses back onto his face—you smile without really thinking, causing him to react similarly.

“It’s okay to let someone be nice to you,” You assure him, “as many assholes as there are at Hawkins, there’s still a few of us who mean well.”

“I can’t be taught, I’m just warning you now.” Eddie remains adamant, leading the way toward his room. You follow behind eagerly, taking in the abstract way of decoration littered around the trailer.

“Fine—you can at least show me your drawings then.”

Eddie looks back at you briefly, a confused grin on his face.

“I’m really observant,” You tease, “and curious.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?” Eddie asks.

“I’ve already got one secret to keep,” You respond, teasing him lightly, “what’s one more?”

“How bad is it?” You ask him, staring up expectantly.

“What—oh, my eyes?” Eddie asks, “Uh, kinda bad. It’s okay, though—I manage.”

You crease your eyebrows together, motioning for him to remove the glasses. He does, watching as you reach for a paper, holding it up in front of him.

“Tell me when you can read it clearly.”

Eddie nods, squinting as you move the paper closer and closer, until it’s only a few inches from his face, your eyes widening in shock.

“Eddie,” You stress, “you can’t be serious?”

“I told you I manage,” He argues with a slight laugh, “but it’s bad, I meant that.”

Your expression remains the same, arms falling to your side as you discarded the paper.

“They look weird,” Eddie defends, “that’s why I only wear them at home—I already get enough shit at school anyways.”

“Bullshit,” You say boldly, “they do not look weird.”

Unfortunately, you did see all of the relentless teasing he caught at school, that wasn’t lost on you.

“You don’t have to lie,” Eddie says, “it won’t bother me.”

“I’m not,” You counter, smiling as the glasses returned to his face, his eyelashes touching the lenses, bangs brushing against the rim, “they fit you—they’re…cute.”

Eddie snorts in disbelief, “Okay, enough.”

You smile to yourself, watching as his cheek flushed a faint pink.

“Can I try them on?”

Eddie doesn’t answer outright, pulling them away from his face and handing them over—they’re a little bigger, his more prominent facial structure different from yours and causing the glasses to slide down your nose slightly. You push them up with your finger, squinting at the strain it puts on your eyes.

You can see Eddie smiling over the rim, admiring how perplexed you look in the moment, “Don’t look at me like that,” You say playfully, “these things are really strong.”

Eddie shakes his head, “It’s—nothing, nevermind.” He pulls the glasses from your face gently, placing them back on his own.

And Eddie’s never been shy, but suddenly he can’t force the words out, afraid of the mix of both rejection and embarrassment.

“I like you like this,” You tell him, hoping it eases him, seeing how tense he was—clearly unloved by many, “I mean, I like you both ways but this—it’s nice.”

“You’re the first.” He says flippantly, not aimed at you for any specific reason. He’s not immune to the words thrown at him, they do start to wear on him after time, even if he brushes them off for the most part.

“They’re insane,” You tell him with a surety, “all of them.”

“Careful,” Eddie treads, “Jason would have a fuckin’ field day if he heard you say that.”

You shrug, smugness in your expression.

“He’s terrified of me.”

“Jason—terrified of you?” Eddie asks, begging for more clarification.

“Our parents are friends—I’ve seen…a lot.” You say cryptically, not wanting to dive into details, “I’m not one for blackmail but I’m not totally above it.”

“You’re so interesting,” Eddie speaks candidly.

“I’ll take that was a compliment?” You respond, “Hopefully.”

Eddie nods with a subtle smile.

“Well—like you said,” You start, repeating his earlier sentiment, “I’ll tell you anything, just ask.”

You hold your finger up as his mouth opens—

“But, notes first—secrets later.”

Eddie pushes his glasses up comedically, forcing a quiet laugh from you—it’s the exact reaction he wants. He settles, agreeing with your rules.

“Deal.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x you #my writing

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sxcret-garden · 9 days

Text

4th Desire ღ Hush, My Dear [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~5.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, a bit of angst, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, semi-public (they have to keep quiet cause reader’s family is literally in the other room), quickie, clothed sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pain kink, biting (idol receiving), he’s lowkey mean… again askjfkljas, orgasm denial, praise) ღ warnings: reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mentions of her mother trying to convince her to wear a dress to an event even though reader doesn’t like wearing them, mentions of a bad experience Jongho had in his past relationship, (him running his fingers through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Dinner with your family goes about as you expected - you’re slightly uncomfortable because of their choices in conversation topics and very much bored. Luckily, your boyfriend tagged along and knows just how to make you feel better, and in the process he too seems to be able to finally let go of his worries.

Author's note: This has a bit of a different pacing than the chapters so far... fun fact! It's also the first chapter I wrote for this fic... no I don't write them in order, that would be way too simple kalsdjflksda

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“Necklace or no necklace?” you ask, raising your voice a little so your boyfriend would hear you in the other room. You hear footsteps, and not much later his figure appears in the doorframe to his room, where you’re looking yourself in the big mirror next to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

“Y/N…” he mutters your name, and as you shoot his reflection behind you a look, you immediately respond,

“I know…”

“It’s just your family,” he says it nevertheless and he walks over to you. Coming to a halt right behind you, his palms find your waist as he lets his gaze take in your figure through the mirror. “You don’t have to dress up for them.”

“I know,” you say once again, peeling yourself out of his hold in order to walk over to the far end of the closet, pulling out yet another different necklace. “This one?” you ask and Jongho gives you a huff, a sympathetic smile showing on his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, coming closer to put his hand above yours. “Wear what’s comfortable. Your parents won’t expect you to look like you’re going to some big event.”

“Well you’re the one talking…” You shoot his outfit a look - neat black pants paired with a knitted sweater in dark colors and a button-up shirt underneath it. You can tell he put at least some thought behind it.

“Hey,” his gums show as he smiles at you. “I’m trying to leave a good impression on your parents, okay? You’re their daughter, not the boyfriend who needs to make sure they like him,” he chuckles.

“They already love you. You could show up in pajamas and they’d be fine with it,” you retort.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” You put the necklaces back to their assigned space in your boyfriend’s wardrobe, before closing its doors. You decide against wearing one after all.

“Actually… we still have time, so I want to ask you something,” you start, turning towards him. “Let’s sit down first?”

“Sure.” You notice by the way his stance changes ever so slightly that your partner can sense you have a more or less serious question. Really, you’re just curious about something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you clear your throat and pose your question.

“You’re being very careful… ever since we started experimenting more while having sex,” you state. “And I appreciate that! It’s just making me wonder if there’s a reason to that, other than for general safety’s sake? Because I feel like you really don’t have to check in with me as many times as you do.” You were afraid he might not share your opinion on this, and feel criticized for something that seems perfectly reasonable to him. But to your relief he seems to know what you’re trying to say.

“Ah… you’re right,” Jongho responds, and then he thinks for a while. “There is a reason for that, actually,” he then says. You guess it might have something to do with his previous girlfriend, and it looks like you’re correct in that assumption. “I told you about how me and my ex tried going in that direction too, right?”

“Right.” The way he suddenly becomes very serious makes you tense up as well - it’s like a barely noticeable darkness reflecting in his gaze.

“So we didn’t want the same things… a lot of the time. There was this one specific thing - I’ll spare you the details here - that she kept wanting to try out but I always said no because it felt too risky for me.”

“Makes sense.”

“And one day we were out with friends, drinking.” You have a hunch what his story might lead up to, and you furrow your eyebrows as you listen on. “And we came home tipsy. Not totally drunk, we were still aware of what we were doing, but also not sober. And this time I gave in, thinking if it’s something that will give my partner pleasure, it will be fine.”

“It wasn’t fine…?” you guess, and a short and regretful laugh escapes him.

“No…”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“I hurt her that day. Not seriously, and not permanently. But it could’ve been avoided… and I think that’s why I’m being so extra careful with you. I swore to myself after that, that I wouldn’t do certain things if I’ve had something to drink or I’m too tired.” He glances up at you now, one finger swiping his hair covering his face to the side as his features soften, and he looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “But I guess I’m more afraid of hurting you than I thought I was.”

“So that’s why…” you respond. “I thought you were overdoing it a bit,” you admit. “But now I get why you’re so focused on making sure I’m okay at all times… thank you.” Grasping his hands in yours now, you look him right in the face. “I mean it. Thank you for keeping me safe.” He can only watch and blush when you bring your joint hands up, brushing a kiss onto his knuckles with your lips. “But now I’m wondering… can you enjoy it like that? I mean.. it must be stressful to always carry that fear with you.” There’s a complicated expression on his face now, and he hesitates for a second before he speaks.

“Yes and no,” he answers honestly. “I am enjoying it, please don’t misunderstand! But… yeah, I think you noticed that overall I’m not letting go as much as I might be able to without those fears. Except for last time…”

“When I called you-”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let you say it out loud, and you wonder why. Does it really affect him that much?

“Then…” You give him a reassuring smile. “When you’re ready to let go of that fear, you can. I trust that you won’t hurt me. And I promise I will say something if you’ve overstepped a boundary or I feel unsure about something. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mouths. You get up to take a step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, and you put your arms around him, bringing your hand up into his hair as he leans into your embrace. “Sorry for overcomplicating things and not telling you sooner,” he mutters, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers combing through his locks. “You have a very good reason. Don’t feel pressured to go against your gut feeling, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you too for understanding.”

You remain like this for a while, and the longer you stay in this position, the harder it becomes to tear yourself away from the warmth of the hug. However, eventually you force yourself to step back anyway, because it is soon time to make your way to your parent’s place.

It’s half past 6 on this Saturday when the two of you arrive at your destination to have dinner with your parents and your grandparents. The invitation had come suddenly, and not completely unrelated to your cousin revealing that she and her long-time boyfriend would get married soon. Your mother had already warned you over the phone that she wanted to discuss some “details” with you, and that you and Jongho should come over for dinner on the weekend. You could only guess that those details would be mostly about trying to convince you what you should wear for the occasion according to her, and once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for that fear to come true.

“Oh my, who do we have here?” your mother greets you and, mostly, your boyfriend, who she seems to like a lot. It’s really no secret that ever since you first introduced him to her, she too wishes her daughter would get married soon. Though you’re nowhere near ready for taking such a huge step, so whenever the topic arises, you do your best to quickly switch to a different one. However, today her concerns aren’t of your marital status, but of - as you had guessed - your planned outfit for your cousin’s wedding.

Pulling you aside after making sure everyone else is seated at the dinner table, entertaining themselves with a conversation about who knows what, her demeanor immediately changes and she becomes serious.

“So, Y/N…” The moment she calls you by your name, you startle just a little bit. “I’ve been thinking.” Whenever she uses that line, you know something uncomfortable is about to go down.

“What is it?” you reply, acting as if you didn’t already know the answer.

“For your cousin’s wedding… you’re not gonna show up in that suit again, right?” Memories of the last occasion you decided to go with neat dark blue dress pants and a fitting blazer instead of the dress that multiple people apparently expected you to wear come back to you and you gulp.

“I was going to,” you say, and your mother sighs. It’s a condescending sigh, one that’s supposed to tell you how naive and young you are and how you should trust your mother’s words, who surely knows better.

“You should wear a dress at least for her wedding,” she says. “Don’t you think? I mean… every young woman there is going to wear one!”

“How do you know that?” you dare to talk back at her, but she raises her eyebrows at you in response. Evading your question, she continues,

“You’re so young and such a pretty girl! It would be a waste if you went in pants.” With a bitter taste in your mouth and a glance towards the living room where the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, you retort,

“Mom, can we talk about this another time? I think everyone’s waiting for us to join…” Not expecting your attempt at getting out of this uncomfortable conversation to work, you’re surprised when she gives in and you find her agreeing with you.

“Okay, I’ll call you about it during the week. Don’t even think about not picking up!” she adds, lifting a finger as a silent warning, and then she lets you off the hook, walking into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Letting out a deep sigh, you too follow.

Eventually you reach the part of the evening where the conversations of your family members are starting to bore you. Just because you've moved past the uncomfortable questions (at least you know your mother won’t bother you about your outfit for the wedding in front of the others) doesn't mean you feel particularly up for engaging in their small talk and occasional political debate. If you're being completely honest, you just might've been fine if it was only the small talk.

Yet here you are, watching your parents and grandparents argue about economics and politicians, and from the way Jongho is reaching over to place his hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze as he tries not to frown too much at what's unfolding at the table, you can tell he notices your discomfort too. And it's not like you didn't warn him, it's not like he didn't assure you multiple times that it's fine, he doesn't mind, he wants to come to your family dinner anyway. But now you can't help but feel apologetic to him.

As if he knew what's going through your head when you shoot him a look, your eyebrows furrowed, he shakes his head and leans in to whisper in your ear,

"Are you okay?" Frankly, you're not okay per se. Used to this is what you are, and equating one with the other in your mind, you give him a weak nod.

"They'll stop... eventually," you whisper back, so the people in question wouldn't hear. And they really do stop a mere moment later. To your dismay, they pause their noise only to comment on you and your boyfriend instead.

"The two lovebirds... look at how they can't wait until they're alone." It's your grandma of all people who makes the comment, a knowing grin sitting on her face and you feel uncomfortable. You know it's just how people act when they see a young couple - they tease. But that doesn't mean you particularly appreciate what's probably just an expression of them being happy for you.

"Mom!" your mother exclaims and everyone laughs. You glance over at Jongho, and you see him smiling along to their bickering. It's a polite smile, nothing more, because he knows how much you hate receiving this kind of attention.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" your grandma defends herself, the creases around her eyes deepening with mischief. "We were like this too when we were their age." Now she shoots your grandpa a look, one filled with warmth as he gives her a somewhat awkward laugh because of her straightforwardness, and then puts his arm around her frame to pull her in close for a moment. You can't help but wonder if you too will still be as in love with your partner once you've reached their age, and your gaze naturally wanders over to your boyfriend sitting next to you. The familiar sight of his smile, the way he lowers his head ever so slightly because after all he's still a little shy around your family, and the way he sits up straight the exact moment your father asks him a question to start a conversation all fill your chest with warmth. Without thinking, he lets his palm glide up and down your thigh once as he answers, and just as you're about to put your hand above his, he deprives you of his touch, gesturing along with the way he talks instead. You listen to them chat as the rest of the family returns to political debates, and in your father's face you can unmistakably see that, just like your mother, he's taking a liking to your boyfriend, and it fills you with relief. And yet you soon find your mind drifting off again, wondering what would happen if your boyfriend put his hand back on your thigh, letting it wander just a bit higher. Wondering how far he could technically go without anyone else at the table noticing - though you know he’d never cross the line in front of other people. And so instead you fantasize about how he would continue unknowingly riling you up, or maybe he’d be aware of it, he is Jongho after all. He’d tease you and keep an eye on you all while making sure to keep the conversation going naturally, so that not a single soul would even guess that you’re craving for him to touch you, and he’s craving for you to beg for it. And then, after dinner is finally over, he’d pull you to another room, and-

Jongho’s hand actually returning to your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts, and as he glances over to you, noticing how your mind is drifting off further and further from the conversation at the dinner table, he moves his palms a little more towards the inside of your leg. You almost startle at the sensation, and at what it inevitably stirs up inside of you, and so you turn to look at him. As soon as you do, you find him already staring back at you, the expression on his face having changed almost unnoticeably. He leans in to mutter something in your ear again, and with it, his fingertips move towards your middle just a bit, sparking desire deep inside you once again.

"Shall we get out of here for a minute?" Thankful for his suggestion, you nod, and with the excuse of you having a headache along with assuring everyone that you'll be fine, you just need some quiet, so as to prevent anyone from following you two, he leads you out of the living room and towards the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. As soon as you close the door behind you, locking up as well, he pulls you towards him by the hand he's already holding.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes wandering to your lips instinctively, and with his free hand he captures your chin.

"Whatever..." you breathe.

"Don't say that," your boyfriend retorts, tilting his head to the side a little, now looking you in the eyes instead. "I can tell you kept zoning out in the middle of their conversations."

"Can you blame me?" You give him a huff and a weak smile as you look away and he lets go of your chin to comb his fingers through your hair instead.

"No, to be honest." Now he as well shows you an apologetic smile. "What were you thinking about when trying to drown out the sound of their arguing?"

"Just... nothing much," you answer, suddenly worried about whether he saw right through you or if his question didn't have so much meaning behind it after all.

"You sure? I noticed that you were upset when I took my hand away earlier... you sure it was nothing much?" You gulp at his tone, the way his voice alone reveals that he very much has a pretty good guess about what you've been fantasizing about for most of the evening. And at the same time he's now taking a step towards you, forcing you to back away and eventually your behind hits the edge of the sink, with your boyfriend now towering above you.

"I..." you try to say something, but it seems your body language already tells him everything he needs to know, because now he's placing one hand on the small of your back as he leans in, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

"Cause I've been thinking about dragging you off to somewhere else and putting you in a better mood for a whole while now." You swallow thickly, and when he takes a proper look at your face to see your reaction to his words, all you can do is part your lips and whisper a confession.

"Me too." He retrieves his hand from behind you, his palm wandering to your sides and then to your front, dragging it up across your chest and letting his fingertips graze your throat on its journey to finally cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut almost instantly as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and then he leans in, coming to a halt a mere inch apart from you.

"Want me to entertain you for a bit?" His enticing offer leaves you unable to do anything but nod, and when you take a glance at his face you don't miss the look he’s giving you, knowing he already has you under his spell. However, Jongho doesn't leave you much time to think about it as he kisses you slowly, a pace meant solely to make you crave for more. You throw your arms around his shoulders as you let him part your lips to deepen the kiss, and still it ends too soon. The pleading expression in your eyes only makes him chuckle, but for now he gives you what you undeniably want and he kisses you again.

His hands wander towards your hips eventually, and after pulling down your pants and underwear just enough for comfortable access, one of his hands keeps you in place while the other finds your core. A mere finger, dragged up and down your folds painfully slowly, is enough to have you moan into his kiss, and next thing you know he pulls back and ceases all motions. Shaking his head at you, he mutters,

"They might hear us."

"R-right..." you whisper an answer, already having forgotten all about your family still chatting merrily not too far away from you.

"Let's be careful," Jongho says, shushing you while momentarily removing his hand from your side. Not letting you wait, he continues his teasing motions, and you bite your bottom lip as you try not to make a sound under his touch and his more than curious gaze scanning even the tiniest of your reactions. "What?" he whispers, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice. "Didn't think you'd already be that wet just from thinking about me all evening." And before you can even come up with anything to say in your defense, he dips a finger inside you quite effortlessly, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand. The act makes him smirk, and he pushes you back into the edge of the sink to keep you from moving around. Clicking his tongue at you as quietly as he possibly can while the amusement in his gaze is apparent, he says,

"So impatient." Furrowing your brows, you shoot him a pleading expression that causes his features to soften, and he adds another finger. "That what you want?" Nodding, you can see his eyes growing darker, and you squeeze yours tightly shut as he watches on, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Feels so good, hm?" he keeps talking, his voice low and quiet, and you dig your fingertips into the fabric of his shirt where it covers his shoulders.

"Y-yeah..." you answer, doing everything in your might to keep your volume at a whisper.

"Shh," he, however, shushes you. "Don't talk. You don't wanna risk getting caught, do you?" And so you do as he says, merely shaking your head vigorously, and earning yourself a kiss brushed against your lips.

"Good girl." And then he picks up the pace just a bit, thumb now pressed against your clit, and the way he curls his fingers against that perfect spot deep inside you makes your head spin.

"Fuck," you mouth, and you earn a sharp look from your boyfriend, but he keeps going nonetheless. You can feel your knees getting weak as you melt under his touch, heatwaves rushing through your body with every time he pulls out and pushes back inside. And then, just as your high starts building up in your stomach and you throw your head back, he pulls out just as slowly as he started. For a second you stare at him blankly, but when he takes a step back, you immediately find yourself protesting.

"Don't do this... not now, please..." You can tell exactly how satisfied he is with himself for riling you up like that and then withdrawing just as you were about to find your sweet release by the cocky grin he's giving you, head leaned back ever so slightly so he could triumphantly look down at you even better.

"Why?" he asks. "It's far too risky to let you lose control. Remember?" He leans in closer now, his fingers that have just been inside your pussy merely a few seconds ago now brushing against your lips just before he leans in, the tip of his tongue licking your juices off your mouth. "They might hear us." Unable to say a word, all you can do is reach out for him, cling to him as he tries to walk backwards.

"No, please... baby... need you so bad..." You press your thighs together tightly as you speak those words, his gaze immediately dropping down to your legs as he registers the movement, and as his pupils darken, he slowly lets his eyes wander back up to your face.

"Then what do you want?"

"Just fuck me please... do whatever you want but please fuck me..."

"Love..." he calls out to you rather softly now, quite in contrast to the firm grip on your ass that he pulls you towards him with. You suck in a breath as you can unmistakably feel his bulge against your lower stomach, but Jongho doesn't waver. "I don't think you can keep quiet if I do whatever I want with you."

"I can... please..." you push him, and he seems to ponder on your plea for a moment. Just when he lets go of you, you think this is it, you're not getting what you want tonight, but then you see him unzip his own pants, and before you can think any further, he orders,

"Turn around." You don't hesitate. All you do is do as he says, facing yourself in the mirror as you bend over the sink as far as the insufficient space between its edge and the glass surface in front of you lets you. You can see his eyes being glued to you from behind, one hand moving to your back and pulling your shirt up as your boyfriend moves it towards your shoulders, while he's giving himself a few strokes with the other. His palm wanders back down, fingertips tracing your spine, and you arch your back for him as he follows your shape, eventually letting his hand rest on your ass.

"That's right," he mutters, rubbing circles onto your skin before squeezing the flesh. For a second there you prepare yourself for impact, but he's already steadying your hips, aligning himself with your cunt. Even just his tip parting your folds makes you shudder, and so he leans forward, until he can comfortably place his hand over your mouth.

"Is it okay if I do that?" he asks, whispering, and you nod your head in desperation. At this point you think you'd comply with almost anything if only he finally filled you up, and at the same time you feel warmth spreading in your chest as he checks in on you and makes sure you're comfortable. And then he pushes up into you, forcing you to bite down a moan that would've almost escaped, and you find yourself agreeing with his earlier words. There really is no way in hell you could keep quiet when he has his way with you. And yet you manage to keep it down as he settles inside you with his full size.

"One sound and I won't let you cum, got that?" he warns, and you can barely nod as he begins rolling his hips into you. Though he starts slow, he too seems close to losing his composure as he picks up speed, using you to chase his own high as well. And even though the pleasure keeps gradually building up deep inside of you, you can keep it together so far. However, when his other hand lets go of your hips so he could rub circles against your clit instead, you know he's about to drive you insane. And so, as a moan threatens to escape your throat, you do the only other thing you can think of as an alternative - you sink your teeth into the palm of his hand. With him bringing you closer to the edge with every repetition of his movements, you don't pay attention to the impact of your actions, but when you bite down harder you can suddenly hear your boyfriend hissing a curse above you.

"Fuck..." Finding the reflection of his face in the mirror and the way his features distort in pleasure as he fucks you harder only causes you to apply even more force to how you’re biting down on his palm, and in turn he tightens his grip on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut as you're about to roll them back from all the sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, shaking you whole. Only a mere second later, a strained grunt escapes your boyfriend as he cums inside you, halting at once to allow for you both to come down from your highs.

He pulls out carefully as you release his hand, and grabbing a few paper towels, he begins cleaning you up. With one arm around your waist he helps you stand, the other wiping clean the insides of your thighs, making you shake whenever he grazes your still sensitive core.

"You okay?" he asks finally, placing a kiss just below your ear as he holds you close, letting you rest with your back against his chest.

"Yeah..." you whisper, before remembering his hand. "What about you?" You turn around, reaching for his wrist to take a closer look at his palm, only to find very apparent bite marks there. You can't help but snort at the situation, remarking, "Well, I guess it's not the noise we need to worry about now."

"Ah... right..." Taking a look at the mark himself, an embarrassed smile now graces his face, gums showing as his ears take on a soft shade of pink. You take a hold of his hand again, bringing it up to your mouth now.

"It's okay," you say, blowing some cool air onto it, before placing gentle kisses all over the mark. "I'll make it better."

You return to the table significantly later than what would’ve been a timespan where you could be sure nobody would get suspicious, but thankfully the only question you receive is whether your “headache” is better now or not as everyone’s busy cleaning up the table. Your boyfriend immediately takes a heavy looking stack of dirty plates from your mother’s hands and carries them to the kitchen instead, and once again it makes you happy to see what a good impression your parents have of him.

“You really picked a good guy, Y/N,” your mother tells you as she moves over closer to you, and you agree silently as you glance over to where his back is disappearing in the kitchen. Caught up in your feelings, you startle as she claps her hands together next to you, the loud sound immediately makes you look at her. “You get to work too! You’re gonna have to be a good wife to him!”

“Mom!” you call out, finding several things that bother you about that sentence, but in the end only addressing one. “We haven’t even been dating for that long!”

“Oh,” she throws one hand over her mouth, before smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes, just like your grandma had done earlier. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. But can you blame me?” Now putting her hand on your shoulder, she points in the direction of the kitchen, and following her movement with your eyes, your gaze soon comes to rest on your boyfriend, who gives you a smile upon noticing.

“Jongho,” you call out to him to make him come over to you. “Can you tell my mom to stop simping over you?”

“What?” they ask, in unison, but very much for different reasons, as your boyfriend can’t help but smile in amusement, whereas your mother adds, “What’s simping…?” And before you can explain, your boyfriend chimes in,

“It’s a good thing, I promise.”

“Ah, well,... either way, someone’s gonna have to get dessert ready, and I assume it’s not your father,” your mother switches topic, shooting you a look. And then, glancing at Jongho and then back to you, she adds, “But that won’t be a problem you’re gonna have, right?” Walking away with that, she leaves you to protest in vain and to internally die of embarrassment, and when you see your boyfriend merely laughing at the situation, you’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here…” you mutter, but he shakes his head, one arm snaking around your body loosely.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure you, and yet your mood won’t change.

“But I’m not… I hate it when they are like this. They act like we’re already married…”

“Hey…” He pulls you aside, fingertips dancing down your arms until he takes a hold of your hands. “They like me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, averting your gaze because you really don’t want to keep discussing this, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that they’re taking this too far too quickly. And instead of dwelling on the topic, your boyfriend now finds reason to complain about something entirely different.

“You guess?” he asks, his tone making it sound like he’s upset, but the playful spark in his gaze as he raises his eyebrows at you tells you he’s just fooling around.

“I mean… no, it’s a good thing,” you correct yourself, shooting him a thankful smile for attempting to cheer you up and then letting him pull you into a quick hug, before your mother starts calling everyone to the dinner table again in order to have dessert. It’s self-made chocolate cake, sweet just as you like it, and even though you know it couldn’t possibly match your boyfriend’s tastes, he still finishes his entire plate.

“This is why they like you so much,” you mutter eventually, when people start moving again to get ready for bed. “You’re risking a tummy ache just to make them happy.” He can’t say anything to that, having been caught red-handed by you, who wouldn’t not know his ulterior motive behind forcing himself through sugary hell. So instead, you get up, touching his shoulder lightly as you do. “Let’s get ready for bed too?”

You help your mother put the remaining plates and cutlery into the dishwasher before brushing your teeth and eventually moving to your old room with your boyfriend. Making yourselves comfortable under your blanket which is that much fluffier than the one you’re using at his place, you immediately feel sleep tugging at your bones and you let out a content sigh.

“Say…” you mumble, facing him as you’re both rolled over onto your sides. “You didn’t seem so anxious about possibly hurting me today.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he whispers a response, sounding as if he hadn’t really noticed that fact himself.

“Is it because we didn’t have much time?” you ask, grinning at the thought of your dirty little secret that you’re keeping from everyone else in the house. Jongho thinks for a short while, but then he shakes his head along with an “mh-mh” coming from his side.

“Because I trust you.” Your smile widens at his words. “I think the trust that you’ll say no if you want me to stop is finally bigger than the fear of accidentally hurting you…”

“That’s good,” you respond, reaching out to place your palm onto his cheek, squishing it lightly between your fingers and contrary to the expected reaction, Jongho merely raises his eyebrows at you slowly, as if he couldn’t properly process what you just did. Letting go of him, you move your hand towards the back of his head instead and your partner shows you a delayed shy smile. “I’m really glad for that,” you whisper, before you roll onto your back and he reaches out for your hand in order to place a goodnight kiss onto the back of it.

“Me too.”

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